Chapter Text
The humming of the kitchen refrigerator was the loudest sound in the small, sunlit apartment.
Dahyun adjusted the tie of her work apron, her eyes crinkling into a slightly tired eye-smile as she set a steaming plate of breakfast on the table. Across from her, Kazuha was already seated in her school uniform, chopsticks neatly aligned beside her bowl. Even sitting cross-legged, her posture remained impossibly straight; a habit years of ballet had made impossible to shake.
But as Kazuha picked up her chopsticks, her eyes drifted to the space on the small shelf near the window.
Kazuha had spent her entire life under the warmth of Dahyun's care, but as she grew older, the missing piece of her own puzzle became an undeniable shadow. There wasn't a single unfamiliar face among them.
"You're staring at the shelf again, Zuha," Dahyun said, pouring a glass of fresh juice and setting it down next to her daughter's plate.
Kazuha blinked, snapping out of her thoughts and offering a small, reassuring smile that mirrored Dahyun’s own features. "Sorry, Mom. I was just thinking about the studio's upcoming showcase next month. The directors said family invitations are being sent out this week. " She paused, her fingers tightening slightly around her chopsticks as she looked up. "It's just... every year the registration forms ask for two signatures. I always, just write your name twice. "
The kitchen fell into a silent stillness. Dahyun’s hand froze for a split second over the juice pitcher, a sudden, sharp wave of old memories flashing across her mind. She forced her composure back in place, sitting down across from her daughter and reaching over to gently pat Kazuha’s hand.
"You only need my signature, Zuha," Dahyun whispered. "I'll be there."
Kazuha lowered her eyes to her glass, buying herself a moment before speaking again. She knew how hard her mother had worked to build the life they had now. Every late shift. Every missed meal. Every recital attended alone. But when she caught her reflection in the dark kitchen window, the elegant curve of her jaw and the shape of her eyes looked nothing like Dahyun's.
She looked once more at the photographs on the shelf. There was room for one more frame. She wondered whose face belonged in it.
Dahyun followed her daughter's gaze to the shelf. Her smile faded for only a heartbeat. Then she reached for the juice pitcher.
The apartment erupted into familiar laughter as the front door swung open.
"We brought pastries!" Nayeon announced before anyone had a chance to greet her.
She swept inside with a white bakery box balanced in one hand. Sana followed close behind, hugging a bouquet of fresh flowers to her chest, while Tzuyu nudged the door shut with her foot, both arms occupied by grocery bags.
"Aunt Nayeon! Aunt Sana! Aunt Tzuyu!" Kazuha smiled, already on her feet, reaching for the grocery bags.
"Look at you, Zuha." Sana pinched Kazuha's cheek, then pulled her into a tight hug. "You're getting taller every time I see you. Every time I visit, you look even more like a ballerina."
Nayeon reached up automatically to smooth a loose strand of Kazuha's hair. "You keep growing. At this rate you'll be taller than all of us."
Tzuyu lifted Kazuha's backpack from the sofa and hung it on its usual hook. "She’s already taller than Dahyun."
Dahyun looked up from the kitchen and didn't miss a beat. "I'm still taller than Chaeyoung."
The room dissolved into laughter.
From the balcony, where freshly washed sheets swayed in the morning breeze, Dahyun leaned back through the open door. "Zuha, could you run down to the basement storage and grab the extra folding chairs?"
"We're going to need more seating for tea."
"I'll go, Mom!" Kazuha replied.
As soon as Dahyun disappeared onto the balcony, Kazuha stopped. She didn't head for the basement. Instead, she turned toward the three women on the sofa. She swallowed once before speaking.
"Aunts," Kazuha whispered, her voice trembling.
Nayeon paused halfway through opening the pastry box. Sana’s bright smile faltered, and Tzuyu slowly lowered her tea glass, her eyes locking onto the teenager.
"What is it, Zuha?" Nayeon asked, her voice dropping into a cautious, gentle register.
"The registration forms are due next week." Kazuha took a deep breath. "They are asking for my family history."
She stepped closer, searching each of their faces. "Mom won't tell me.”
“Please... tell me the truth. Who is my other parent?"
No one answered. Sana looked down at her lap, twisting the strap of her watch. Nayeon opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her gaze drifted toward the closed balcony door. Tzuyu sat perfectly still, her face returning to a blank, heavy mask. She let out a slow breath, her hands folding tightly on her lap.
"Zuha... " Nayeon finally murmured. "It isn't ours to tell."
"But I have a right to know!" Kazuha pleaded, a single tear of pure frustration escaping her eye. "Every time I catch my reflection, I see someone I've never met."
"Did they abandon us?"
"No!" Sana blurted out instantly, her eyes welling with sudden, fierce emotion as she reached out to touch Kazuha's arm. "No, Zuha. Don't ever think that."
“Your other parent... it's not like that at all. It's just..." Sana choked on her words, clamping her mouth shut as Tzuyu met her eyes.
Tzuyu finally spoke. "Your mother has spent seventeen years protecting you."
"If she's still silent, there's a reason." Tzuyu held Kazuha’s gaze. "When she's ready, she'll tell you herself."
The rustle of the balcony door sliding open cut off any further discussion. Dahyun walked back into the living room, wiping her hands on her apron, her signature eye-smile returning to her face as she looked at her friends. "Okay, what did I miss? Why is it so quiet in here?"
Kazuha quickly wiped her cheek, forcing a small, reassuring smile to her face as she grabbed the keys. "Nothing, Mom. I'm just heading down to get those chairs now."
As the teenager walked out into the hallway, the heavy iron apartment door clicking shut behind her, the three aunts exchanged a long, profoundly worried look with each other.
The apartment door clicked shut. Nayeon let out the breath she'd been holding. Sana lowered her eyes. Tzuyu met Dahyun's gaze. Dahyun's smile slowly disappeared.
Dahyun looked from one face to another. "She asked again."
---
The apartment door clicked shut. Nayeon's parting words lingered in the apartment. "Every year you grow up, Zuha... you just look more and more like your mother."
Kazuha stood entirely frozen in the center of the living room. The tears she had been desperately holding back all afternoon finally spilled over, hot and silent, tracking down her porcelain cheeks.
She knew Nayeon hadn't meant Dahyun. The thought settled in her chest with terrifying certainty. Her aunts' silence. Sana's near-breakdown. The way they had all looked toward the balcony.
They weren't hiding the truth. They were protecting it.
"Zuha?"
Dahyun stepped into the living room, a fresh dish towel in her hands. The moment her eyes landed on her daughter's shivering shoulders and the raw grief written across her face, the towel slipped from Dahyun's fingers, dropping silently to the floor.
"Oh, sweetie... " Dahyun whispered, her voice cracking with a profound, immediate ache.
She crossed the room in three quick strides, wrapping her arms securely around Kazuha’s waist and pulling her tight against her chest. Kazuha didn't pull away. She buried her face in her mother's shoulder and sobbed out seventeen years of unanswered questions.
"Why won't anyone tell me?" Kazuha choked out, her voice a ragged, breathless plea against Dahyun's apron. "Aunt Nayeon said I look like her.”
“If she’s out there…”
“If she gave me these eyes…”
“If that's where my love of ballet came from…”
“Why did she abandon us, Mom? Didn't she want me?" Kazuha said in between sobs.
Dahyun closed her eyes; tears slipped free.
She drew one slow breath before guiding Kazuha toward the sofa.
"Listen to me, Kazuha." Dahyun gently cupped her daughter's face. "Look at me."
Kazuha did.
"She never abandoned you."
Kazuha blinked through her tears, her eyes searching her mother’s pale, stressed face. "Then why isn't she here?"
Dahyun let out a slow, heavy breath, her fingers trembling slightly as she smoothed a loose strand of hair behind Kazuha's ear. "Because she had to leave, Zuha. Seventeen years ago, everything was different. Before the companies. Before the contracts. Before our lives split apart."
"Her family controlled every part of her future. They made sure she had no choice."
Dahyun paused, her chest tightening as she looked straight into the eyes Kazuha had inherited.
She looked at her daughter. "She didn't leave you, Kazuha."
Dahyun swallowed. "She never even knew you were born."
"By the time I realized I was carrying you, she was already across the ocean." Dahyun looked down at her hands. "Her family made sure there was no way to reach her."
She drew another slow breath. "When I realized what they were capable of... I couldn't risk losing you too."
Kazuha stared at her mother. She had spent years imagining someone who had chosen to leave. She had never imagined someone who didn't know she existed.
Dahyun pulled Kazuha back into a warm, fierce embrace, resting her chin on her daughter’s shoulder as the wind rattled the kitchen balcony. "I wanted to keep you safe from that world, Zuha. But you are growing up so fast, and every time you step onto that ballet stage... I see her in every single movement. I'm sorry I kept it a secret. "
Kazuha wrapped her arms around her mother's neck and held on.
For the first time that afternoon, neither of them spoke.
It wasn't the whole truth.
But it was the first piece of it.
---
By the next morning, Kazuha had declared the investigation officially underway. Kazuha sat at a corner table in a cafe near the university district, a thick leather notebook flipped open in front of her. Across from her sat her two closest friends from the ballet studio, both leaning over the notebook with the same determined look.
"Okay, if we want to trace my mother’s past, we have to start with her university years," Kazuha instructed smoothly, her elegant ballet posture perfectly straight even while leaning over her phone. "That's when everything fractured."
Their first stop had been the three aunts. Kazuha had subtly brought up her mother’s old college days, hoping to catch them off guard. But Nayeon, Sana, and Tzuyu were too well-trained. They delivered a performance of complete ambiguity.
"Oh, your mother was entirely focused on her music studies, Zuha-ah," Nayeon had hummed smoothly, twirling her designer sunglasses with a smirk. "She barely had time for anything outside the piano rooms."
"Yes, she was very busy!" Sana had giggled loudly, quickly stuffing a piece of garlic bread into her mouth to keep from talking further. "Just a lot of quiet library sessions!"
Tzuyu hadn't even looked up from her tea, her face a blank, heavy mask. "Her historical timeline is highly confidential, Kazuha. Focus on your choreography instead. "
Kazuha uncapped her pen and wrote.
Known Facts
• Mother attended university.
• Piano major.
• Other mother left seventeen years ago.
• Nayeon, Sana, and Tzuyu - aunts refuse to talk.
She stared at the page. "That's... not much."
She looked up at her friends. "We're changing tactics."
Kazuha looked back at her notes. "We're going to see Aunt Chaeyoung."
Son Chaeyoung was an eccentric, artistic soul who currently runs a cluttered, colorful tattoo and design studio downtown. If anyone knew the story Dahyun refused to tell, it was Chaeyoung. More importantly, Kazuha knew exactly how to crack her.
An hour later, the heavy glass doors of the art studio swung open with a loud chime. Chaeyoung was sitting at her drafting table, a pencil tucked behind her ear, wearing a paint-splattered oversized shirt.
"Zuha!" Chaeyoung beamed, her eyes twinkling with pure affection as she stood up. "What brings my favorite ballerina to the creative lounge? Do you need a custom poster layout for the showcase?"
"Actually, Aunt Chaeyoung, I have a question." Kazuha smiled gently, stepping right into her space. Without a single second of hesitation, she reached into her bag and placed a sleek, limited-edition imported charcoal sketch set right on the drafting table; a rare item Chaeyoung had been frantically trying to order from Europe for six months.
Chaeyoung froze. "...No." Her eyes widened. "...You did not."
She slowly lifted the tin with both hands as though it were made of crystal.
"The Ultra-Black Series..." she whispered. "Zuha... I've been trying to import these for months."
"I know." Kazuha smiled. "I had help finding them."
Chaeyoung laughed once in disbelief. "I love you."
Then Kazuha gently rested her hand on top of the tin before Chaeyoung could open it.
"But I'd like something in return."
The laughter disappeared.
"...No."
"Auntie—"
"No." Chaeyoung slid the charcoal back across the table.
"I know exactly what you're going to ask." She folded her arms. "And the answer is no."
Kazuha blinked.
"I promised your mother." Chaeyoung said, her tone suddenly firm.
Silence settled between them.
"I've kept that promise for seventeen years," she said. "I'm not breaking it because you brought me fancy pencils."
Kazuha lowered her eyes. "I'm not trying to make you betray her."
Chaeyoung didn't answer.
"I'm trying to understand her." Tears appeared in Kazuha’s eyes.
The studio became very still. Kazuha looked around at the half-finished paintings, the drying canvases, the smell of linseed oil filling the room.
She looked back at Chaeyoung.
"When I was little..." she said, "...I always wondered if we were abandoned."
Chaeyoung swallowed.
"I don't want to reopen wounds."
"I just want to know the person she loved."
"I deserve to know where I came from."
Chaeyoung closed her eyes.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Finally she rubbed both hands over her face.
"...You really are your mother's daughter."
She looked toward the front window as if expecting Dahyun to burst through it.
"Dahyun is going to kill me."
Kazuha almost smiled.
Chaeyoung pointed a finger at her. "I'm not telling you the whole story."
"I'm not betraying Dahyun," she said, meeting Kazuha's eyes. "I'm only giving you names."
Kazuha immediately pulled out her leather notebook.
Under Known Facts, she wrote one more line.
• Names:
Then she looked up. "I'm listening."
Chaeyoung sighed. "Your mother dated a few people in university."
She counted them off on her fingers. "There was Jisoo from the theatre club..."
"Momo from the dance academy..."
She fell silent.
Kazuha waited.
"...And then there was Mina."
The studio suddenly felt very quiet.
Kazuha lowered her eyes to the notebook and slowly wrote the name.
• Names:
• Jisoo
• Momo
• Mina
Chaeyoung looked down at the unopened charcoal tin and sighed. "I got robbed."
---
The leather notebook was beginning to fill with notes.
Printed articles, photocopied yearbook pages, and screenshots from old social media accounts were tucked between its pages.
Kazuha and her friends gathered around a large wooden desk in the back of the school library.
Armed with the three names Chaeyoung had reluctantly given them, they'd spent the afternoon combing through university archives and forgotten social media pages.
"Okay, look at these three profiles side by side," Kazuha’s best friend whispered, sliding three printed photographs across the desk.
Three photographs lay side by side.
Jisoo smiled confidently at the camera.
Momo looked like she'd been caught halfway through laughing.
Mina's expression was quieter, almost unreadable.
"Wow," Kazuha’s other friend let out a low, deeply impressed whistle. "Every single one of them is absolutely gorgeous. And Honestly... I can imagine you being related to any of them."
"Seriously," the first friend giggled, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere with a playful nudge to Kazuha’s elbow. "I think your mom definitely had a type."
Kazuha’s face flushed a delicate shade of pink, but then her eyes locked back onto her notebook. She tapped her pen aggressively against the desk. "Focus, you guys. We're not here to judge my mom's dating history. We are trying to eliminate targets.”
Kazuha turned to a clean page.
Possible Candidates
□ Kim Jisoo
□ Hirai Momo
□ Myoui Mina
“Let’s start with the first name: Kim Jisoo."
Laptops opened. Pages rustled. Someone searched university alumni records while someone else scrolled through archived student newspapers.
"I found her," Kazuha’s friend announced, turning her monitor around to display an official corporate newsletter from an international entertainment conglomerate. "Jisoo-sunbae was one of the theater department's biggest stars. She signed with an international company right after graduation."
Dahyun's words echoed in her mind. She was already across the ocean.
"It's not her," Kazuha deadpanned.
“It doesn't fit." She continued as she crossed out the first name on her list with a sharp black line.
Possible Candidates
□ Kim Jisoo
□ Hirai Momo
□ Myoui Mina
"Mom said her family separated them."
She tapped the screen. "Jisoo signed a contract."
"That's not the same thing."
She leaned back in her library chair, her gaze falling onto the two remaining names on the white paper: Momo and Mina.
With Jisoo crossed off the list, only two names remained.
Hirai Momo.
Myoui Mina.
The deeper they searched, the clearer the pattern became.
"Momo's profile says she transferred from Osaka."
"Wait," another friend said. "Mina too."
Kazuha leaned closer.
Both had come from Japan.
Both had trained at the same dance academy before university.
"Zuha, look at this," her friend whispered, turning the laptop screen to show an old, archived photo from a university festival.
An old festival photograph filled the screen. Students crowded beneath blooming cherry trees, smiling at the camera.
Momo stood on one side. Mina stood on the other.
Between them, grinning with an arm slung around each of their shoulders, was a much younger Sana.
"They both knew Aunt Sana," Kazuha murmured.
She looked from the photograph to the notebook lying open beside her.
Sana had almost said something.
Sana had been there.
She uncapped her pen.
Beneath Possible Candidates, she added the same note beside both remaining names.
Sana.
Possible Candidates
□ Kim Jisoo
□ Hirai Momo - Sana
□ Myoui Mina - Sana
Then she looked back at the photograph.
---
Kazuha left the library without another word.
Half an hour later, she was pushing open the glass doors of Aunt Sana's boutique.
"Aunt Sana, please." She opened the notebook between them.
"It's one of them."
She pointed at the page. "They're both from Japan. They're both dancers. They both knew you."
Her voice broke.
"Please."
"Is it Momo..."
"...or Mina?"
"I just want to know who I am."
Sana looked down at the notebook. Her fingers tightened around the fabric she was holding. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were shining with tears.
"Zuha..." She shook her head. "I can't."
Her voice cracked. "Please don't do this to me."
"Zuha.”
A steady voice cut through the boutique from right behind her. Kazuha froze, her heart doing a backflip against her ribs. She spun around slowly.
Dahyun stood by the entrance. She wasn't smiling. There was no anger on her face either. Only sadness.
When Kazuha met her eyes, Dahyun's familiar eye-smile returned—small, tired, and full of understanding.
"Your aunts told me everything," Dahyun murmured gently, stepping into the boutique and wrapping a warm arm around Kazuha's shivering shoulders. She gave the crying Sana a reassuring nod before looking back down at her daughter. "I'm not mad, Zuha.”
I know you're just trying to understand."
“Let's go home. It's time for us to have a real talk."
Kazuha slipped the notebook back into her bag.
She followed her mother out into the cool evening.
Neither of them spoke on the drive home.
They didn't need to.
For the first time in seventeen years, Dahyun was ready to tell her daughter everything.
---
The apartment door clicked shut, sealing out the cool evening air. Dahyun immediately guided Kazuha to the kitchen table and set a steaming mug of jasmine tea in front of her to help calm her shaking hands. The soothing aroma filled the room as Dahyun pulled up a chair directly across from her daughter, her posture relaxed, her expression serious.
"I understand why you're doing this, Zuha," Dahyun said. "I really do. But grilling your Aunt Sana at her boutique was not the right answer. She’s hurting just as much as you are. " Dahyun paused, wrapping her warm hands around her own mug. "Sana was caught right in the middle of everything seventeen years ago. Your biological mother was her best friend.”
Dahyun looked down into her tea. "Keeping this from you has hurt her too."
Kazuha looked down at the swirling tea leaves, a deep wave of genuine guilt washing over her elegant features. She took a slow, steadying sip. "I'm sorry, Mom. I promised I would call Aunt Sana and apologize properly to her tonight. I just... I got so desperate."
Dahyun reached across the table, gently patting Kazuha’s hand. "I know, sweetie. I'm not mad."
Leaning back in her chair, Dahyun’s expression shifted into curiosity. She tilted her head, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. "So, tell me about this grand investigation of yours. Your aunts told me you cracked the vault. I’m guessing it was your Aunt Chaeyoung who broke the secrecy first?"
Kazuha couldn't help the tiny, dimpled smile that escaped her lips, the tension in the room finally lifting. "I may have bribed her with a limited-edition imported charcoal sketch set she's been trying to get for months. She couldn't resist." She opened her leather notebook, turning the page to show the three bold, handwritten words. "She gave us three names from your university days: Jisoo, Momo, and Mina."
Dahyun let out a loud, genuine laugh that echoed beautifully through the small apartment, shaking her head. "Of course she did. Son Chaeyoung is entirely spineless when it comes to art supplies. And how exactly did you and your friends cross out the first name on the list?"
"We ruled out Jisoo."
Dahyun raised an eyebrow. "How?"
"Her timeline didn't match what you told me."
She tapped the notebook. "She built an international acting career."
"That wasn't the same as being cut off by her family."
Dahyun smiled to herself. She hadn't realized Kazuha had pieced together so much on her own. Dahyun looked down at the notebook. Only two names remained.
Momo.
Mina.
She already knew which name Kazuha would ask about next.
"You take a problem apart the same way your mother always did," Dahyun murmured.
Kazuha’s breath caught in her throat at the casual mention, her eyes widening slightly.
"But you've had a long, exhausting day of playing detective," Dahyun said, standing up from the table and tapping the edge of Kazuha's tea mug. "Go wash up first. Go change out of your uniform. Wash your face. Clear your head."
“When you come back down, I promise I will sit right here and tell you the entire story from the very beginning. No more secrets. No more hiding."
Kazuha looked at her mother for a long moment. She believed her. The frustration she'd carried all afternoon finally eased.
"Okay, Mom. I'll be quick.”
She grabbed a fresh change of comfortable clothes and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door with a click.
Left alone in the kitchen, Dahyun let out a long, heavy breath. She sat back down at the dining table, staring at the open leather notebook where the names Momo and Mina sat side by side under the dim overhead light. The hot water was running in the bathroom, the jasmine tea was cooling, and Dahyun steeled her heart, ready to finally give her daughter the answers she'd been carrying alone for seventeen years.
Kazuha finished washing up, padding into the living room in a pair of comfortable, oversized sweatpants. The tense energy from the afternoon had evaporated, replaced by a silent stillness. She joined Dahyun on the sofa, pulling her knees up to her chest as she braced herself for the answers she had waited seventeen years to hear.
Dahyun wrapped both hands around her own mug. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, they weren't looking at the living room anymore. They were looking seventeen years into the past.
"For you to truly understand the whole truth, Zuha," Dahyun started, her voice dropping into a low, beautifully melodic register, "we have to start from the very beginning. Long before the legal battles, before the dance academy, and before you were even a thought."
She turned her head to look at Kazuha, a smile playing on her lips.
"Let's start with Kim Jisoo," Dahyun said, as she smiled to herself.
"You were right to cross her off the list, but her place in my life was important.”
"When I was a freshman, Jisoo-sunbae was impossible to ignore. Every theater production wanted her. Half the campus was in love with her."
Dahyun laughed.
"Including me."
Kazuha listened intently, her eyes locked onto her mother's profile as Dahyun chuckled.
"I was a quiet music major who spent all my time hidden in the piano rooms, but on a total whim, Son Chaeyoung dragged me to try out for the theater club’s musical production," Dahyun explained, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I somehow got a small role, and because of that, Jisoo-sunbae and I got incredibly close. She practically took me under her wing, coaching me through lines and stage fright."
Dahyun paused, a wave of fondness softening her features. "She was my first love."
Dahyun smiled. "Or at least, what I thought love was back then."
“It was that innocent, sweet, and chaotic college romance where everything felt incredibly high-stakes. We eventually made it official.”
"She was wonderful."
"But eventually, we realized we wanted different things. We had too many differences, and our relationship just didn't last. But there was no drama, no heartbreak. We stayed friends and stayed in close touch. Even now, she’s still a wonderful friend who checks in on us from Europe."
Dahyun shifted on the sofa, turning her entire body to face her daughter. She reached out, her pale hand gently cupping Kazuha’s shoulder and looking straight into her eyes.
"So yes."
"You were right."
"Jisoo isn't your mother."
Kazuha let out a slow, steadying breath, her posture relaxing just a fraction. One name was gone.
Two remained.
Dahyun stood up from the sofa for a brief moment, walking over to her bedroom. When she returned, she was holding a slightly faded, glossy print—the exact archived photo Kazuha’s friends had discovered on the library database earlier that afternoon. Dahyun gently handed it to Kazuha.
"This was the second year of university," Dahyun murmured, sitting back down and pointing to the three laughing girls beneath the campus cherry blossom trees. "I was actually the one who took this picture. Sana, Momo, and Mina... they were inseparable back then."
Before Dahyun could even inhale to start the next chapter of the story, Kazuha looked at the picture, and a sudden, bright laugh escaped her lips. The heavy, emotional weight in her chest instantly lifted, replaced by genuine amusement as she remembered the library desk conversation with her ballet friends.
"What?" Dahyun blinked, caught off guard by her daughter's sudden amusement. "Why are you laughing?"
"I'm sorry, Mom," Kazuha giggled, leaning back against the sofa cushions while pointing at the beautiful Japanese dancers in the frame. "It's just... when we were looking through your archives this afternoon, my friends literally joked that you had a type. A theater star and two elite visual dancers? You really only fell for the absolute queens of the campus."
"That's completely unfair," Dahyun protested, laughing despite herself. "I didn't go looking for them."
She pointed accusingly at the photograph. "They kept finding me."
Kazuha laughed harder at her mother’s frantic, classic defense, the cozy living room finally feeling warm and safe again.
After the laughter faded into a comfortable silence, Dahyun's expression softened. She looked at the photograph in Kazuha's lap, then lifted her gaze to meet her daughter's eyes, eyes that looked so much like another pair she'd loved seventeen years ago.
Dahyun reached across the cushions, gently wrapping her pale hand around Kazuha's wrist. "Zuha... before I tell you which one of them changed my world forever, I need to ask you something important. What will you do if it turns out to be one of them? If you find out exactly who she is?"
Kazuha’s elegant posture straightened, the playful amusement instantly vanishing, replaced by a profound, unshakeable maturity. She looked down at the photo of Momo and Mina, a single, determined breath escaping her lips.
"I don't want to cause a corporate scandal, and I don't want to ruin her high-society life, Mom," Kazuha whispered, her voice carrying an unshakeable conviction. "But if I find out who she is... I just want to meet her. Just once. I want to stand right in front of her, look her in the eye, and introduce myself as her daughter. I want her to see that the baby she never knew existed grew up well, and let her know we were okay."
Dahyun blinked hard. Tears gathered despite her best efforts. She squeezed Kazuha's hand.
Dahyun’s eyes shone as she looked at her daughter. Dahyun smiled through her tears. "You grew up so well, Zuha."
"Alright," Dahyun said, taking a steadying breath as she looked down at the faded print in Kazuha's lap. "Before I can even mention Momo or Mina’s names, I have to introduce your Aunt Sana first. Because without her, I never would have met either of them. "
Kazuha looked down at the photograph again. Sana stood in the middle. Smiling. Completely unaware that she was about to change all of their lives.
"Sana was impossible to ignore," Dahyun laughed, a fond smile spreading across her face. "She somehow knew everyone on campus, and the moment I arrived, she decided we were going to be friends."
“She was incredibly clingy, aggressively flirtatious, and she had this terrifying habit of barging into my private piano practice rooms. She would slide right onto the wooden bench next to me, wrap her arms around my neck, and just cling to me while I was trying to practice my scales."
"Did you run away?" Kazuha grinned, thoroughly enjoying the imagery of her chaotic aunt.
"I couldn't!"
Dahyun laughed.
"I'd turn bright red and completely forget what I was supposed to be playing."
"Without fail, the door would swing open."
"Sometimes it was Momo."
"Sometimes it was Mina."
"They would say 'Sana,' and then sigh, 'leave the poor girl alone.' Then, they would drag her out by her collar."
Dahyun laughed.
"They would pull her away while I tried very hard to remember how to play the piano."
Dahyun pointed to the three faces in the photo. "The three of them were inseparable because they were all international exchange students from Japan who had known each other since childhood. But whenever Sana tried to cling to me, Momo or Mina would always step directly in between us, pushing Sana away to rescue the poor, flustered freshman music major."
Kazuha’s breath caught in her throat. She looked at the center of the photo, tracking the intense dynamic, before looking up into her mother’s pale face. A sudden, wild deduction flashed across her mind.
"Wait... " Kazuha blurted out, her eyes widening to the size of saucers as she pointed a dramatic finger at the center figure. "Mom... is Aunt Sana, my mother?! Is that why she almost had a breakdown at the boutique today?!"
Dahyun burst into laughter, shaking her head as she covered her face with one hand.
"Oh my gosh, no!" Dahyun said. "Absolutely not, Zuha! Aunt Sana is definitely not your mother. If she were, she would have legally claimed you, thrown you a massive debutante ball, and dressed you in pink tutu lace before you could even crawl! She was crying because she loved your mother very much. Watching us fall apart hurt her too."
Kazuha laughed until she had to wipe tears from the corners of her eyes.
The laughter faded.
Silence settled over the room once more.
Dahyun’s eyes drifted back to the old photo in Kazuha’s lap, her expression shifting into a deeply nostalgic softness.
"The truth is, Zuha," Dahyun murmured, "back then, it was actually Mina whom I had the biggest crush on. She was the definition of icy elegance. She was so quiet, so serene, moving through the campus like an untouchable porcelain queen. Whenever she stepped into the piano room to drag Sana away, my heart would stop. I found myself hopelessly attracted to her, but she felt like a star in a different galaxy. I convinced myself a quiet music major like me had absolutely zero chance. So, I kept those feelings to myself, certain they would never amount to anything."
Kazuha’s fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the photograph, her eyes tracing the beautiful, elegant features of the girl named Mina.
"But then, there was Momo," Dahyun continued, a warm, bright smile lighting up her pale face as she chuckled. "Momo was something else entirely. Where Mina was quiet, Momo seemed to fill every room she walked into. She was always there, dragging me out of the stuffy practice rooms for street food, making me laugh until my chest ached, carrying this fearless energy that was impossible to ignore."
Dahyun paused, a wave of profound fondness softening her features. "Before I realized it, I'd fallen completely in love with her. She broke through all my walls, and we began a real, beautiful relationship. It was loud, it was passionate, and it was everything a college romance was supposed to be.”
Kazuha’s breath hitched in her throat. She looked down at the photograph, her heart doing a backflip against her ribs as she connected the pieces. Kazuha's breath caught. The pieces slid together almost too easily. Dahyun had loved Momo. They'd been together. The answer suddenly seemed obvious.
"Mom... " Kazuha blurted out, her elegant ballet posture instantly straightening as she looked into Dahyun's face with wide, breathless eyes.
"Is... is Aunt Momo, my mother?"
Dahyun didn't answer right away. Instead, she just tilted her head, a teasing glint returning to her eyes as her signature eye-smile flared out in full force. She reached over, gently tapping the tip of Kazuha's nose with her finger.
"Do you want me to actually finish the story, Zuha?" Dahyun asked with a chuckle. "Or are you going to keep jumping to conclusions before I get to the ending?"
Kazuha quickly clamped her mouth shut, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink as she leaned back against the sofa cushions, captivated and desperate to hear the twist that had kept her identity hidden for seventeen years.