Her dad's cardigan was brown, soft and about two sizes too big. Yoongi stood in the hallway with the sleeves rolled up three times and the hem hanging almost to his knees. He looked like a boy wearing his father's clothes.
"It suits you," her mom said, trying not to laugh.
"Thank you, Mother."
"Don't call me ma'am. Call me Mother, or Aunt if that's easier."
"Yes, Mother." His ears turned red. "I mean, thank you."
Her dad walked past them and looked him up and down. "The shoulders are tight."
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."
"Don't apologize for your shoulders."
"Yes, sir."
"Sit at the table."
The dining table had been set for four, but there was food for ten. Her mom had made beef short ribs, braised black cod, a pot of seaweed soup, glass noodles with vegetables, three kinds of kimchi, steamed egg, and a plate of fried shrimp. She had been cooking since Seo-yeon's text. The housekeeper had been dragged in to help, and she stood by the kitchen door with a stunned look, staring at the famous man in her employer's cardigan.
"Sit here," her mom said, pointing to the chair across from Seo-yeon. "Next to your father."
"Thank you, Mother."
Yoongi sat. Her dad sat at the head of the table, straight-backed, with his napkin tucked into his collar. For a moment nobody moved.
"Eat," her dad said.
Yoongi picked up his chopsticks. He picked up a piece of kimchi. He put it in his mouth, chewed and swallowed, and then froze.
"Is it too spicy?" her mom asked anxiously.
"No. It's very good." His eyes were watering. "It's, um. Very good."
"Drink water."
"I'm fine, Mother."
Seo-yeon pushed a glass toward him under the table. He took it and drank half of it in one gulp.
"Not used to spice?" her dad asked.
"I eat spicy food, sir. Just not this spicy."
"Hmm." Her dad took a large piece of kimchi, put it in his mouth and showed no reaction at all. Seo-yeon watched him blink once, slowly, and look at the ceiling. She pressed her lips together.
"Daddy, are you okay?"
"It's perfect," he said in a strained voice.
"Your eyes are watering."
"It's the steam."
"There's no steam. The soup is cold."
"Eat your food, Seo-yeon."
Her mom shook her head and set a plate of shrimp in front of Yoongi. "Eat this. It's not spicy."
---
The conversation started slowly. Her mom asked him what he liked to eat, and he said everything, which she didn't believe. She asked if he cooked, and he said he could make ramen and eggs and not much else. She told him that was unacceptable for a man about to have two children, and he promised to learn.
"I can learn," he said. "I'll take lessons."
"From whom?" her dad asked.
"My mother, Father. Or a cooking class."
"A cooking class," her dad said, as if it were a foreign word. "Hmm."
"Daddy, you can't even boil an egg," Seo-yeon said.
"That's not true."
"Last year you tried to make instant noodles and set off the smoke alarm."
"The pot was defective."
"It was a new pot."
"It was still defective."
Yoongi pressed his lips together hard. His shoulders were shaking.
"Are you laughing?" her dad said.
"No, Father."
"You are."
"It's the cardigan, Father. It's very warm."
"It's not warm in here."
"I'm sorry, Father."
Her mom burst out laughing, and Seo-yeon followed, and after a moment Yoongi let out a helpless snort. Her dad looked from one of them to the other with a stern face. Then, slowly, he picked up a shrimp, bit into it and said, "It was a defective pot."
That finished everybody.
---
When dinner was over, her mom took Seo-yeon to the kitchen under the excuse of making fruit and tea. The housekeeper had already put out the plates. Her mom closed the door with her hip and whispered, "He's nice."
"He is."
"He's very tall."
"Mom."
"I'm only saying, the babies will be tall." She picked up a knife and started peeling a pear with quick, practical strokes. "And he keeps looking at you."
"Does he?"
"Every minute. Like you might disappear."
Seo-yeon touched her stomach and smiled. "I know."
"Your father hasn't said a harsh word since the picture."
"He's pretending."
"He's pretending to be angry. He's been walking around the house all week saying 'that boy' and 'that old man,' and now that he's met him, he doesn't know what to do with himself." She set the peeled pear on a plate. "He's afraid to like him."
"Why?"
"Because if he likes him, he has to let you go a little." Her mom looked at her and smiled. "That's what fathers are like."
Seo-yeon didn't say anything. She picked up the plate and carried it to the table.
---
Her dad had moved to the living room. He sat in his armchair with a glass of tea on the side table and a stern look on his face, and Yoongi sat across from him on the sofa. They had been alone for five minutes, and neither of them had said a word.
Seo-yeon hesitated at the door.
"Come back in twenty minutes," her dad said without turning his head. "We're talking."
"Daddy..."
"Twenty minutes."
She looked at Yoongi. He gave her a tight smile and a small nod. She put the plate on the table and went out to the garden.
Inside, her dad let the silence go on for a long time. Yoongi sat with his hands on his knees and waited.
"You have a company," her dad said at last.
"Yes, Father. An agency."
"They own you?"
"They manage my contract. It's not quite ownership, but it's close."
"What do they say about this?"
"They don't know yet."
"When will they?"
Yoongi took a breath. "Soon. I'm going to tell my manager first. He's been with me for nine years. Then the head of the agency." He paused. "They may not be happy."
"What will they do?"
"I don't know. They might force me to hide it. They might ask me to leave the group. They might break my contract." He kept his voice steady. "I've been thinking about it all week. I'm not going to deny her or the babies, whatever they decide."
"That could end your career."
"It could."
"And you'd accept that?"
"Father, I've sung for twelve years. I love it. But I've only known about these two for a few days, and I already know I'd choose them." He looked down at his hands. "I'd rather lose the stage than lose them again."
Her dad was quiet for a long time. Then he said, almost to himself, "You sound like I did when I was your age."
"Father?"
"When I met her mother." He picked up his tea and looked into the cup. "I had nothing. A small business, a rented office, and a lot of debts. Her grandfather didn't approve of me. He said I was a gambler." He took a sip. "I told him I would rather lose everything than lose her. He said that was foolish."
"What did you do?"
"I proved him wrong." He set the cup down. "It took ten years."
Yoongi smiled a little.
"You will have a harder time," her dad said. "Your world is very loud. Everyone will have an opinion. You will be called many names. Some of them will be about my daughter."
"I know."
"If one person insults her in public, I will not be calm."
"Neither will I, Father."
"Hmm." Her dad nodded slowly. "Good."
He fell silent again. In the garden, Seo-yeon could be seen through the window, walking slowly between the flower beds with one hand on her stomach. Both men looked at her.
"She is my only child," her dad said. His voice was lower now. "When she was little, she followed me everywhere. When she was fifteen, she told me she wanted to be an independent woman. When she was twenty-four, she moved out because I disliked her boyfriend. I thought I'd lost her." He cleared his throat. "Then she came back, crying, with news that I didn't expect. And the first thing I felt was not anger. It was relief that she came home."
Yoongi didn't say anything.
"I am not good at talking," her dad said. "I am telling you this because I want you to understand. I will not let anyone hurt her again. Not her old boyfriend, not you, not anybody."
"I understand, Father."
"If you hurt her..."
"I won't."
"If you do..."
"Then you have every right to be angry." Yoongi met his eyes. "But I won't."
Her dad looked at him for a long moment. Then he reached up, took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"My eyes are dry," he muttered.
"Of course, Father."
"I'm only tired."
"Yes, Father."
"Do not tell my wife."
"I won't."
He put his glasses back on. "You may call me Father."
Yoongi blinked. "Father?"
"You heard me. If you're going to be the father of my grandchildren, you cannot keep calling me 'sir.' It makes me feel old."
"Yes, Father." Yoongi's voice cracked. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Pass me the tea."
Yoongi passed him the tea, and he took it and turned his face toward the window to hide whatever his face was doing.
---
When Seo-yeon came back in twenty minutes, she found them sitting side by side on the sofa with a photo album between them. Her dad was pointing at a picture and talking in a low, gruff voice.
"That's her first day of school. She cried the whole way."
"Daddy!"
"Then she refused to leave. She said she liked it."
"Daddy, you're showing him the baby pictures?"
"He is the father of my grandchildren. He should know."
"Wait," Yoongi said, pointing at a page. "She had a bowl cut?"
"A very bad one," her dad said fondly.
"Daddy!"
"Look at the bangs. They were crooked. Her mother cut them herself."
"I was trying to save money," her mom called from the kitchen.
"We had a lot of money."
"I wanted to try."
"She wore a bucket hat for a year to hide it."
Seo-yeon covered her face with both hands. "Yoongi, don't look."
"Too late." He was grinning so widely that his eyes had almost disappeared. "You were adorable."
"I'm going to disappear."
"Please don't. I like the bucket hat."
Her dad let out a short, rough laugh and turned the page.
---
It was almost ten when Yoongi finally stood up to leave. Her mom had packed him two containers of leftovers and a bag of cut fruit. Her dad had walked him to the door and had handed him a paper bag with the red ginseng that Yoongi had brought, saying, "Take it back. I don't need it." Then, after a moment, he had taken one box out of the bag, put it in his own pocket, and returned the rest.
"For my back," he said.
"Of course, Father."
"Return the cardigan next time."
"I will."
"Wash it first."
"Yes, Father."
At the door, Yoongi bowed to her parents, a deep, slow one, and this time his cap stayed on. "Thank you for dinner. And for letting me in. I'll come back soon."
"Come on Sunday," her mom said. "I'll make something good."
"I'd love to."
"And bring your parents," her dad said. "We should meet."
Yoongi's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Of course. We're going to share two grandchildren. It would be strange if we never met."
"I'll tell them tonight."
"Good."
Seo-yeon walked him out to the gate. The night was cool and quiet, and the streetlights threw long gold lines on the driveway. Neither of them spoke until they reached the gray car at the corner under the tree.
"That went well," she said.
"Did it?"
"Very well. My dad gave you a nickname."
"He did?"
"He told my mom you were 'a decent boy with a loud voice.'"
Yoongi put a hand on his chest. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me."
"It's the nicest thing my dad has said about any man, ever."
"Then I'm honored."
She laughed. For a moment, they stood facing each other in the dark, and the air between them felt quiet and a little warm.
"I want to ask you something," he said.
"Okay."
"Can I come to the next one? The detailed scan, in a few weeks."
"You already said every checkup."
"I'm confirming."
"Yes, you can come."
"And the classes? The ones where they teach you how to hold a baby?"
"The prenatal classes?"
"Those too."
"Yoongi, you'll have to wear a mask in the classroom."
"I'll wear a mask. I'll wear two masks. I'll wear a paper bag on my head if I have to."
"Please don't."
"Then a mask." He looked down at her stomach, and then back up at her face. "Seo-yeon. Thank you for tonight."
"I didn't do anything."
"You did everything." His voice was low. "You let me in."
She didn't know what to say. After a moment, she stepped forward, stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. It was quick and light, and she pulled back at once, with her face on fire.
"Goodnight," she said.
"Goodnight," he said. He didn't move. He stood there with his hand on his cheek and a stunned look on his face until she was halfway up the driveway.
"Seo-yeon!" he called.
She turned around.
"I'm going to say it properly. The thing I said by accident. I promise."
"I know."
"I'm just not ready to say it in a driveway."
"Then say it somewhere better," she said, smiling.
"I will."
She went inside. Behind her, the gray car didn't start for a full five minutes.