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“Mommy,” Yongbok’s voice came from the dining table, feet swinging back and forth on the chair, “when is Papa coming back?”
Minhee didn’t turn around immediately. She was at the kitchen counter, cutting vegetables.
“Three days,” she answered easily. “Papa just left yesterday, remember?”
Yongbok hummed, clearly dissatisfied with that answer. “But three days is very long,” she said seriously “Papa always comes back fast.”
Minhee smiled to herself, reaching for the pan. “Papa has work,” she said, her tone light. “He’ll come back when he’s done being a very busy man.”
Yongbok rested her chin in her palms and watched her mother move around the kitchen. “Papa said he’ll bring me something,” she announced. “Maybe a new friend for Bbokkari. Or chocolates. Or a keychains. Or all three.”
“All three?” Minhee raised an eyebrow, amused. “That’s a lot of bribing.”
Yongbok grinned. Minhee laughed softly, as she stirred the food, tasting it, adjusting the salt. Everything felt… normal. A little quieter, maybe, but not in a bad way. Just different.
She reached into the cabinet and pulled out plates. One. Two. Three. She placed them on the counter without thinking.
Behind her, Yongbok let out a giggle. “Mommy.”
“Yes, princess?” Minhee said, still focused, grabbing cutlery.
“Papa’s not here,” Yongbok said, pointing helpfully at the extra plate.
Minhee froze. “Oh,” she said after a beat, then laughed it off, sliding the third plate back into the cabinet.
Yongbok hopped down from the chair and padded into the kitchen, peeking up at the counter. “Mommy miss Papa?”
Minhee stirred the pan a little harder than necessary. “He’s only gone for just three days,” she said. “That’s nothing.”
Yongbok squinted at her. “Hmm.” That hum felt suspiciously judgmental.
Minhee plated the food, this time just two plates, and carried them to the table. She sat across from Yongbok, picking up her spoon like everything was perfectly fine.
Yongbok studied her mother's face for a moment, then shrugged and went back to eating.
Everything was fine.
It was only day one, after all.
By next day, the house felt… stretched.
Minhee sat on the couch with her phone in her hand, one leg tucked under her, the TV playing something she wasn’t really watching. Her thumb hovered over the screen before she finally typed.
Lina🐰 : Did you eat?
The message sent. Minhee stared at it, then locked the screen, then unlocked it again not even a minute later, just in case.
Nothing.
She sighed, leaning her head back against the couch. She knew better. Seungmin had meetings all day. He’d said so. Back-to-back, annoying, tiring meetings.
Her phone buzzed a few minutes later.
Min🐶: Just finished one.
Min🐶: Bored...🙁
Min🐶: Eating now.
Minhee smiled immediately. She typed back fast.
Lina🐰: Good puppy.
Lina🐰: 🙃
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Min🐶: Yes, mom.
She scoffed, shaking her head.
Lina🐰: 😏
This time, there was no reply. Minhee let the phone drop onto her lap, and stared at the ceiling, listening to the distant sound of Yongbok singing in her room.
It was strange how missing someone didn’t come all at once. It crept in. Quiet, subtle. Like realizing the house had one less sound than usual.
She opened her phone again, scrolling through their chat without thinking, pictures of food, silly stickers, Seungmin’s badly timed jokes, her voice notes telling him to behave.
Her chest felt tight in a way she didn’t like.
“Mommy?”
Minhee looked up.
Yongbok stood at the doorway, hugging Bbokkari, eyes bright. “Can we go to Channie’s?”
Minhee blinked. “Chan’s? Sure,” she said quickly, a little too quickly. “Go get your bag.”
Yongbok beamed, and ran off, already calling out a list of things she needed to bring, her voice filling the hallway.
Minhee stayed on the couch, exhaling slowly. She picked up her phone again.
Lina🐰: We're going to Hyunjin's for a bit.
Lina🐰: I miss you.
She typed, then paused, replaced it with another text.
Lina🐰: House feels weird without you.
Minhee stared at the message for a long moment before sending it. She smiled sadly, curling into herself a little, and rested her chin on her knee, phone pressed lightly to her palm.
She wasn’t falling apart.
She was fine.
She just missed her husband.
And it was only day two.
By the time Minhee and Yongbok reached Chan’s place, the noise hit them first.
Yongbok barely waited for the door to open fully before slipping out of her mother's hand and darting inside, shoes half-off, voice already calling names. Minhee smiled faintly as she stepped in slower, setting her bag aside, letting the familiar warmth of the house wrap around her.
From the backyard came laughter, Chan’s bright, Hyejin’s high and unstoppable, Jihan’s trailing behind like he was trying to keep up but already tired.
Hyunjin was outside. Minhee followed the sound, stopping just at the edge of the sliding door.
Hyunjin stood in the garden with a small watering can, sleeves rolled up, hair tied loosely at the nape of her neck. She was humming, something soft and unrecognizable, while carefully watering the plants, moving with the kind of calm that made everything else slow down too. Minhee stepped out, sitting on the low bench near the garden bed.
Hyunjin smiled at her, and went back to her plants immediately. “This one’s new,” she said suddenly, pointing at a small pot. “Sung bought it because the seller said it’s ‘hard to kill.’”
Minhee huffed a laugh. “Is it?”
“Very. I don’t trust it.” She moved to another plant. “This one needs more sunlight but not too much. It’s dramatic. Like someone we know.”
Minhee watched her fingers brush leaves gently, listening. Just listening. Hyunjin kept talking, about soil types, about how one plant leaned oddly no matter how often she fixed it, about how Jisung forgot which days were watering days and overcompensated by drowning everything on Sundays.
Minhee nodded at the right places. She realized, distantly, that the tightness in her chest had eased. The garden, along with the kids' noise filled the silence that would’ve otherwise echoed with thoughts of empty kitchens and unoccupied chairs.
Hyunjin’s voice was steady, weaving ordinary things into something comforting. Behind them, Yongbok laughed loudly, proudly announcing she’d won something, and Chan cheered like it was a championship. Hyejin declared new rules. Jihan plopped down dramatically on the grass.
Minhee leaned back slightly, letting the sun warm her face. For a moment, just a moment, she wasn’t counting hours. She wasn’t checking her phone. She wasn’t missing. She was just… here.
Hyunjin glanced at her, a quiet, knowing look in her eyes, but said nothing. She just handed Minhee the watering can.
“Here,” she said casually. “You do this one.”
Minhee took it, surprised, then smiled. “Okay.”
Jisung’s voice came from behind them, easy and familiar. “I’m heading out for a bit.”
Hyunjin turned instantly, like her body recognized him before her mind needed to.
“Keys?” she asked.
“Already got them.”
She nodded, lifting another watering can. Jisung stepped closer, one hand sliding around her waist without hesitation, pulling her in. Hyunjin leaned back into him naturally, and Jisung pressed a quick kiss to her temple, lingering just long enough to be soft, then tucked his chin briefly against her hair.
“I’ll be quick,” he murmured, and let her go, ruffling Hyejin’s hair as he passed, dodging the little girl's dramatic protest.
Minhee had turned away without realizing it, focusing on the thin chain around her neck, thumb rubbing the small pendant back and forth, back and forth.
The garden suddenly felt quieter, even with the kids still laughing. The space beside her felt… noticeable. Empty in a way it hadn’t a moment ago.
Three days, she reminded herself. It’s just three days. Still, her fingers tightened slightly around the pendant as the thought of Seungmin crossed her mind, how he’d kiss her forehead before leaving for work, how he’d tease, and linger like he was memorizing her, how he always said call me if you miss me like it was a challenge.
She exhaled slowly and forced her shoulders to relax.
Hyunjin shifted closer, not touching, just near enough. “You okay?” she asked lightly, eyes still on the leaves.
Minhee nodded. “Yeah. Just-” She stopped, then smiled faintly. “Just being silly.”
Hyunjin hummed, like she understood exactly what Minhee didn’t finish saying.
The kids shrieked again, something about a race, and Minhee stood, setting the watering can down. “I’ll go check on them,” she said, a little too quick.
Hyunjin smiled gently. “Go.”
Minhee walked toward the noise, toward the chaos, hoping it would be loud enough to drown out the ache settling deeper in her chest, because now, more than before, she missed him.
Night settled quietly over the house.
Yongbok was already asleep, sprawled diagonally across her bed like she’d wrestled sleep into submission. One arm hugged her favorite doll, the other flung dramatically over the pillow Seungmin usually tucked under her head when he read her bedtime stories.
Minhee lingered by the doorway for a moment longer than necessary, watching her chest rise and fall, smoothing back a curl that had escaped the braid.
“Papa will be back soon,” she had said earlier, confident and easy. But now, standing in the dim hallway, the words felt thinner.
She closed the door softly and padded back to the bedroom. The lamp on Seungmin’s side of the bed was still off, exactly how he left it. His pillow looked too neat. Untouched. Wrong. Minhee slipped under the blanket and turned onto her side out of habit, facing his empty space.
Cold.
She sighed and flipped onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Her phone lay face-down on the bedside table. She’d checked it too many times already, messages read, replies sparse but affectionate, his last one hours ago.
Min🐶: Meeting ran late. Might take some time. I’ll call when I can.
He had said he’d be back today.
Minhee knew business trips were unpredictable. She knew meetings stretched, flights delayed, plans shifted.
She’d been cool about it all day, productive, even. Dinner cooked. Yongbok bathed. Toys picked up.
But night did things to her.
Night made the house feel bigger. Emptier. Every sound stood out, the hum of the fridge, the ticking clock, the distant bark of a dog outside. Sounds Seungmin usually commented on, complained about, joked through.
She turned again, hugging his pillow to her chest without meaning to. It smelled faintly like him. Clean soap, something warm and familiar, and her throat tightened unexpectedly.
“Such a baby,” she muttered to herself, eyes stinging as she pressed her face into the pillow.
She missed the way he wrapped an arm around her in his sleep, pulling her close like a reflex. Missed his quiet goodnights. Missed the way he’d mumble her name when he thought she was already asleep.
Her phone finally buzzed.
Minhee’s heart jumped as she grabbed it. too fast, too hopeful.
Min🐶: I’m so sorry. I’m still stuck here. I’ll be late.
Min🐶: Don’t wait up, okay?
She swallowed.
Lina🐰: Okay.
She typed back, then erased it.
Lina🐰: Be safe.
She sent instead.
Lina🐰: We miss you.
The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.
Min🐶: I miss you more.
Minhee let out a shaky laugh, half fond, half miserable, and lay back down, phone clutched loosely in her hand. She turned toward his side again, curling into the empty space like she could will him there.
“Come home,” she whispered into the quiet, voice barely louder than a breath. The house didn’t answer.
But somewhere far away, she knew Seungmin was thinking the same thing.
Minhee lay awake, staring at the faint outline of the window. The clock on Seungmin’s side blinked. Too late, far past what she’d been expecting.
She sighed softly and turned onto her side again, hugging the pillow tighter. Sleep refused to come, no matter how hard she tried to convince herself to rest. Her mind kept circling back to the same thought.
He should’ve been home by now.
Then-
A sound.
Not the settling of the house. Not the wind. A very real, unmistakable sound.
Minhee froze.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she sat up, breath caught halfway. She listened again, every sense sharpening. From downstairs came a soft clink, metal against wood. Keys.
Her phone was in her hand before she even realized she’d reached for it. She slipped out of bed, feet barely touching the floor as she moved, careful but fast, pulse roaring in her ears.
Another noise. A quiet sigh. Familiar. She rounded the corner-
And there he was.
Seungmin stood just inside the doorway, one hand still on the door handle, the other holding his bag. His hair was slightly messy, coat half-open, shoulders slumped with exhaustion, but unmistakably, undeniably him.
For a split second, Minhee just stared. Then relief crashed into her so hard it almost hurt.
“Seungmin,” she breathed.
His head snapped up, eyes widening before softening instantly. Minhee crossed the space between them in three quick steps and threw her arms around him, burying her face into his chest like she’d been holding herself together by sheer will alone. Her fingers fisted into the fabric of his coat, clinging like if she didn’t, he might vanish again.
“You’re home,” she said, voice muffled and trembling. “You’re actually home.”
Seungmin let out a breathy laugh, the kind that sounded like relief wrapped in fatigue, and dropped his bag without care. His arms came around her immediately, strong and firm, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.
“I’m home,” he murmured, pressing his cheek into her hair. “I’m sorry it got so late.”
Minhee shook her head against him, already nodding at the same time, emotions tangled and messy.
“I don’t care. I just-” Her voice cracked despite herself. “I missed you. So much.”
Seungmin tightened his hold, one hand cradling the back of her head, thumb brushing slow, soothing circles like he was grounding both of them.
“I know,” he whispered. “I missed you too. Every second.”
She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes shining, scanning his face like she needed to confirm he was really there.
“You said not to wait,” she accused softly.
He smiled, fond and a little helpless. “I didn’t think you’d be awake.”
“I wasn’t sleeping,” she admitted, then huffed out a quiet laugh. “I tried. Failed.”
Seungmin leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering there. Minhee tilted her head up, fingers still curled into his coat, and before Seungmin could say anything else, she kissed him. Her lips lingered against his, familiar and gentle, like coming home.
When she pulled back, she didn’t let go. “You’re not going on business trips again,” she said firmly, eyes serious now.
Seungmin blinked, then huffed out a small laugh. “We’ll go bankrupt.”
She didn’t even hesitate. “I don’t care.” she swallowed, her voice softer but no less certain. “You’re not leaving me and our family like that again.”
For a moment, Seungmin just looked at her. Then he smiled, that gentle, teasing smile that always made her heart ache.
“Then,” he said carefully, “how about I take you two with me?”
Minhee scoffed, a broken laugh slipping out as her eyes stung. “Yeah, right.”
She wiped at the corner of her eye quickly, pretending she wasn’t emotional, but Seungmin saw it anyway. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers, thumbs brushing her cheeks with infinite tenderness.
“I mean it,” he murmured. “If I have to go… I don’t want to go without you.”
Minhee tucked herself back into his arms, resting her head against his chest, and for the first time in three days, the house felt right again.
And Minhee finally breathed like she hadn’t been holding it in all along.