A Narrow Dining Table
Thursday. I tossed and turned all night, haunted by what had happened. I didn't fall asleep until three in the morning and woke up at nine. Six hours. A stretch of sleep that was neither too short nor particularly restful. But I dreamed. I couldn't remember the details, only the lingering scent of lavender.
After washing my face, I stood in the kitchen. I needed to make something to eat. First, for myself. I opened the refrigerator. Eggs, green onions, tofu, and soybean paste. I decided to make soybean paste stew. I washed the rice, dumped it into the cooker, and began dicing the tofu. A normal morning. I had to keep things normal.
Seojin. Her lips. The towel. Lavender. My knife slipped. The tofu cubes turned out as awkward trapezoids instead of neat squares. "...Focus," I muttered to myself, gripping the knife tighter.
After breakfast, I sat down in my studio. A new commission had come in today. A web novel cover illustration. Fantasy romance. I needed to sketch out the concept for the female lead. I read the brief: Wavy brown hair, a gentle impression, warm brown eyes. ...Of all times, why did this kind of request have to come now?
I picked up my stylus and started on the rough sketch. The facial contour. The placement of the eyes. The nose. The mouth. Once I finished, she looked exactly like Seojin. I erased it. I drew it again. I made the eyes larger, the nose sharper, the hair color a shade lighter. She still looked like Seojin.
"Fuck." I tossed the stylus onto the tablet and leaned back in my chair. This was unacceptable. I was a professional. I was supposed to be drawing the client's character, not the woman next door.
I checked my phone. My chat history with Seojin. The last message was the one I had sent: Me too. Have a good night. Nothing after that. She had to be hyper-aware of it too. Not after what had happened last night.
I couldn't focus all morning. It took three attempts before the rough sketch finally yielded a face that didn't resemble Seojin. I made the eyes rounder, curled the corners of her mouth upward, and gave her a more cheerful vibe.
Lunch. I boiled some ramyun for myself. I cracked an egg into it, threw in some chopped green onions, and even mixed in some leftover rice at the end.
2:00 PM. The doorbell rang. My heart skipped a beat. Seojin? I checked the intercom. A tiny head, just about Yuri's height, was barely visible at the bottom of the screen. I opened the door.
"Mister!" It was Yuri. Her nose was a little red, likely from yesterday's fever. But her energy was as high as ever.
"Yuri, your shoes."
"Ah." Yuri turned back to take off her shoes, neatly lining up her tiny indoor slippers. It was a habit Seojin had clearly instilled in her.
"Mister, aren't you making food today?"
"...Food?"
"Mom told me to ask if you're making food today." Yuri tilted her head. She was a completely innocent messenger. Seojin hadn't come herself; she had sent Yuri instead. Yuri didn't understand what that implied, but I did. She was embarrassed. Embarrassed to face me directly. And so was I.
"Are you... coming over to eat?"
"Yep! With Mom!"
"What do you want to eat?"
"Egg rolls! I love your egg rolls, Mister!"
"Alright. Come over at six."
"Really? Pinky swear!" Yuri held out her pinky. I hooked mine with hers. Her tiny finger barely reached the first joint of mine. She pressed her thumb against mine to seal the deal, shouted, "Pinky swear!" and dashed back toward the front door.
"Yuri. Is your cold all better?"
"Yep! I took the medicine and slept, and now I'm all better. The medicine you gave me!" Yuri beamed and slipped out.
Seojin had sent Yuri. In the form of a question: Aren't you making food today? She could have come herself, but she didn't. Because it was awkward. It would have been hard to ask me to eat together with the very mouth that had touched my lips last night. That was fine. I wouldn't have known what to say if I had gone to her, either. Let's meet under the pretext of a meal. That was how we had always done it, anyway.
I started cooking at five-thirty. Egg rolls, Yuri's favorite. But egg rolls alone would make the table look bare. I heated up the soybean paste stew again. I also seasoned some spinach with sesame oil and toasted sesame seeds. Finally, the rice.
Six o'clock. The doorbell rang. I opened the door.
"Mister! We're here!" Yuri burst in first. Seojin stood behind her. From the kitchen, I looked at Seojin. Seojin looked at me. Our eyes met. Within half a second, we both averted our gaze.
Seojin's outfit was different from usual. Normally, she wore linen dresses or loose-fitting knits that subtly revealed her collarbones or exposed her shoulders. Today was different. A high-necked, long-sleeved crewneck t-shirt. Her collarbones were completely hidden. On her lower half, she wore loose, oversized jeans that concealed her waistline. Even her hair was tied back, her shoulder-length waves gathered into a neat ponytail.
She had consciously chosen to cover up. It was because of last night. Because of the towel incident, Seojin was deliberately hiding her body. But the problem lay with me. The very fact that she was wearing such conservative clothing made me recall last night all the more vividly. Because she was covering up, I became hyper-aware of what lay beneath. The collarbones hidden under that crewneck. The waistline concealed inside those jeans. The things I had seen yesterday. Fuck. Calm down, Han Siu.
"Please, sit down."
"...Okay." Seojin sat at the dining table. Yuri sat right next to her. I was supposed to sit opposite them, but because it was an island counter, I ended up sitting next to Seojin, with Yuri in the middle.
"Wow, egg rolls!" Yuri cheered.
"Thank you for the meal," Seojin said. Her voice was slightly higher than usual. It was obvious she was trying to sound artificially bright.
"Please, help yourself." My voice was also clipped.
The meal began. Yuri stuffed an egg roll into her mouth and squealed, "So good!" before pushing the seasoned spinach aside. "I don't want this."
"Yuri, eat your vegetables too." Seojin placed some spinach onto Yuri's plate.
"No."
"You have to eat it to grow tall."
"I don't need to be tall."
"Yuri."
"...Just one." Yuri picked up a single strand of spinach and ate it with a deeply crumpled face. I almost burst out laughing but held it in, terrified that my eyes might meet Seojin's.
But they did. We had both been holding back our laughter while watching Yuri, and we happened to look up at the exact same moment. Our eyes locked. Seojin's brown eyes. The same eyes as yesterday. The eyes that had looked up at me just before we almost kissed. For a mere 0.3 seconds. Then, we both looked away at the same time. Seojin stared down at the stew, and I stared at my rice. My ears burned.
"...The soybean paste stew is delicious," Seojin said, taking a spoonful. She didn't look at me.
"Thank you."
"As expected."
Our conversation was transactional. No, we were just pretending it was. We only talked about the food, keeping our dialogue strictly within safe boundaries. Both of us.
Yuri picked up her third egg roll and said, "Mister, make this for me every day."
"Every day might be a bit much."
"Why?"
"You'll get tired of eggs."
"Nuh-uh! I won't!"
I surrendered to Yuri's sheer determination. "Alright," I said, nodding.
Seojin stroked Yuri's hair. As her hand naturally reached out, her arm entered my field of vision. Her wrist, visible beneath the sleeve of her crewneck. A slender, pale wrist. The very hand that had taken mine yesterday and pressed it against her cheek. I kept eating, focusing entirely on chewing, concentrating on the texture of the rice grains.
"Siu."
"Yes?" My heart thumped.
"Your slippers."
"Ah."
Seojin pulled a plastic bag from beneath the table. Inside were my slippers, freshly washed. "You even washed them."
"They got wet. Yesterday."
The word yesterday had slipped out. Seojin's voice dropped slightly.
"Thank you."
"No, it's nothing."
Silence.
Yuri broke the silence by slurping her stew. "Mom, why isn't Mister talking?"
"Huh? We're talking."
"No, you usually talk way more. You're quiet today."
One must never underestimate the observational skills of a five-year-old. Seojin and I blurted out at the exact same time:
"That's not true." / "It's not like that."
We spoke in perfect unison. Yuri tilted her head. The tips of Seojin's ears flushed red. I was probably no different.
"Yuri, adults are just quiet sometimes."
"Adults are quiet?"
"Yes."
"I don't like that. I want to be noisy."
Seojin laughed at Yuri's declaration. It was her first natural laugh of the evening. A laugh that dissolved the tension. The fine lines crinkled beneath her eyes, and her shoulders relaxed. I laughed too, thanks to Yuri. If not for this child, this table would have been buried under a suffocating silence.
"...I think the spinach is delicious," Seojin said, picking up a clump.
"I'm glad."
"The sesame oil tastes wonderful."
"Yes. Sesame oil is a perfect match for spinach. The savory flavor cuts through the bitterness."
"As expected, you..." Seojin stopped herself. She seemed to swallow whatever words were meant to follow As expected, you...
"What is it?"
"Nothing. I just meant it's delicious."
Seojin went back to her food. The clink of spoons against bowls. The sound of Yuri poking an egg roll with her fork. The gentle bubbling of the stew. The small sounds around the table filled the awkward silence.
The meal ended.
"I'll do the dishes—"
"Please, sit. I'll take care of it."
I gathered the dishes first and began washing them. As I was finishing up, Seojin spoke up.
"Yuri looks like she's about to fall asleep on the couch..."
"That's fine. Let her sleep."
Seojin draped a blanket over Yuri on the sofa. Yuri curled into a ball and closed her eyes. Within thirty seconds, her breathing became slow and even. Her ability to fall asleep so quickly was nothing short of miraculous.
Seojin stood up and walked over to the kitchen. Putting distance between herself and Yuri, she closed the distance between us. She stood on the opposite side of the island counter. I stood by the sink. Just a single counter between us.
"Siu."
"Yes?"
"About yesterday... I'm sorry."
"Why are you apologizing?"
"I barged in so suddenly, looking like a mess... and the atmosphere got so strange."
"It wasn't strange."
"No, it was. I was strange." Seojin bowed her head, her ponytail shifting to one side. "Acting like that toward you all of a sudden..."
"Seojin."
"Yes?"
"Don't apologize."
I returned the exact words she had said to me last night. Seojin lifted her head and looked at me.
"...Are you really okay with it, Siu?"
"Yes." My voice was firm, surprising even myself. "I'm fine. With yesterday. All of it."
A faint glint of moisture appeared in Seojin's eyes. She wasn't about to cry; it was just a sudden swell of emotion.
"...Thank you." Seojin smiled. It wasn't a trembling, fragile smile, but a genuine one. The lines crinkled beneath her eyes, the corners of her mouth lifted, and the tension finally drained from her shoulders. "I'll take Yuri home once she wakes up."
"Take your time."
Seojin picked up a water glass from the counter and took a sip. A trace of water lingered on her lips. I stared at them. For a fraction of a second. Then I looked down at the sink. But Seojin had looked at me at that exact moment. She knew exactly where my eyes had wandered. Her cheeks flushed a soft pink. Setting the glass down, she muttered a meaningless, "Thank you for the water."
I didn't dislike this awkwardness. It felt like a gentle breeze slipping through a crack in a wall that had finally begun to crumble. A cool, yet warm breeze of April.
Around nine, Yuri woke up. "Mommy..." she mumbled, rubbing her eyes as she clung to Seojin.
"Alright, let's go. Say thank you to the mister."
"Thank you, Mister! The food was yummy!"
"Sure. Goodnight."
Seojin held Yuri in her arms as she stood at the entryway. "Thank you for today as well, Siu."
"Of course."
Seojin opened the door to leave, then paused and looked back. "Drop by the cafe sometime soon... I made another new menu item."
"What kind of menu item?"
"Come and see for yourself." Seojin smiled. Yesterday's embarrassment and today's awkwardness still lingered, but something else had settled over them. A sense of anticipation. A flutter of excitement.
"I'll drop by when I have some time." My response was slightly delayed. A non-committal answer. If I set a specific time, it would become a promise, and once it became a promise, we would both be overly conscious of it. I knew that would feel like a burden, especially so soon after last night.
"Yes. Whenever you can." Seojin didn't press for a date either. She had the same intention. Her smile simply widened a fraction. "I'll be waiting," she said, and stepped out. The door clicked shut.
I sat on the sofa. A lingering warmth remained where Yuri had slept. This apartment was too spacious for one person. A studio, a living room, a kitchen. Too much space for a single soul to occupy. But now, the traces of three people sharing a meal filled the emptiness. The scent of egg rolls still drifted from the kitchen, one of Yuri's crayons was wedged beneath a sofa cushion, and the glass Seojin had drunk from sat on the counter. I reached to clear the glass, then stopped. I'll clean it tomorrow.
After sending it, I realized something. This was the first time I had written "Goodnight." It had always been "Have a good night."
I put my phone down and stared at the ceiling. It had been an awkward day. But it wasn't bad. Meeting under the pretext of a meal, laughing under the pretext of Yuri, talking under the pretext of food. A day built entirely on excuses. But that was fine. Because we had those excuses. For now, at least. I decided not to think about what would happen when those excuses ran out. Not tonight.
I got up from the sofa and went into my studio. The brown-haired female lead I had abandoned yesterday was still on the monitor. The client's character. A face that shouldn't resemble anyone. I picked up my stylus and began refining the details. Making the eyes rounder, curling the corners of the mouth higher, brightening the hair color by one more shade. I consciously drew her differently.
Around one in the morning, I saved the file and leaned back in my chair. The female lead on the screen now bore almost no resemblance to Seojin. It was a face tailored perfectly to the client's brief. Yet, I knew that the slight curl of her lips still looked exactly like Seojin's. I didn't erase it. I would be going to the cafe soon anyway. I would get to see how those lips moved in person once more.
An unscheduled promise felt liberating. If we had set a date, it would have turned into a countdown, but leaving it vague allowed the rhythm of daily life to remain undisturbed. I could just go when I wanted to. When I want to. The phrase felt foreign in my mind. I was used to when I have to or when I must. The sensation of actually wanting to do something was a concept I hadn't felt in a very long time. It would take some time for that word to find its place in my vocabulary again. But it would. The way our eyes met across the table today—that was the start. An undeniable beginning.