Nam Ji-yeon stood by the kitchen´s counter, deftly packing an array of carefully prepared banchan into neatly stacked containers.
Her movements were practiced, transferring colored banchan: fermented kimchi, glossy soy-braised potatoes, and delicate sesame-dusted spinach.
The sound of the front door opening announced her son’s arrival.
Eu-jin stepped into the kitchen, his tall frame momentarily filling the doorway.
His brow furrowed in that distinct way that had always reminded her of his late father.
‘You’re here already!’ she exclaimed, not looking up from her task but smiling all the same.
He stepped forward.
‘Mmh,’ he replied in his usual understated manner.
‘Why did you ask me to come home so urgently?
Did you want to tell me something?’ Ji-yeon shook her head, her hands never pausing as she sealed another container.
‘No, nothing urgent.
I just prepared some banchan for your friend Nari.’ Eu-jin blinked, taken by surprise.
‘What?
Why?’ he asked with genuine astonishment.
His mother turned to him with resolution.
‘She’s been very kind to you.
She found you an apartment, introduced you to her friends, and helped you settle back into Seoul.
If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t have settled back so easily.
We owe her a lot.’ Eu-jin’s brow furrowed slightly.
‘I already thanked her…’ he said, almost defensively.
Ji-yeon gave him a knowing look, her hands pausing briefly over the Tupperware lids.
‘Yes, but now I want to thank her.
You bring her the banchan.
Knowing her mother, I was able to guess her tastes.’ Eu-jin, caught between mild exasperation and a grudging appreciation for his mother’s unrelenting care, nodded.
‘Thank you, Mother.
Kim Nari will be happy,’ he said, gathering the stack of Tupperware into a bag.
As he turned to leave, Ji-yeon watched him go.
Once the door closed behind him, she shook her head.
‘Why are men so naive?’ she muttered to herself, her words laced with a mix of amusement and resignation.
… The air was charged with anticipation as Kim Nari stood poised at the front of the lecture hall, her voice carrying over the captivated silence of her students.
On the screen behind her, Gauguin’s luminous painting colors —visions of a Tahiti that had bewitched the artist and reshaped the conception of what was paintable.
Her movements were fluid, her gestures precise, as though she were not merely teaching but introducing them to a different world.
‘When he went to Tahiti,’ she continued, her voice warm and inviting, ‘can you imagine what Gauguin’s experience represented for art?
His vivid colors defied the traditions of impressionism, which had been enslaved to the softness of pastel tones.
And there, at the end of the 19th century, Paris was shaken by his images of indigenous life, deemed primitive by those blinded by their own sophistication.’ Unnoticed by her, Eu-jin slipped into the back of the hall.
He eased into a seat, his attention arrested not by the paintings, but by her.
He watched her in admiration as she commanded the room, her voice weaving of passion.
Nari clicked the remote, and the slide changed to display the work of a contemporary Vietnamese-Canadian artist.
The vibrant, sinuous forms danced across the screen, echoing Gauguin’s influence yet standing defiantly as their own.
‘As you can see,’ she said, her gaze sweeping the room, ‘Gauguin wasn’t concerned with realism.
Now, I want to introduce you to this artist.
Look at her forms, her movement.’ A murmur rippled through the room.
‘There’s something reminiscent of Gauguin’s sinuous forms,’ a student observed.
‘Exactly!’ Nari said, her face lighting up.
‘But she’s not searching for the exotic anymore.
In a world as interconnected as ours, the notion of the exotic is fading.
Instead, she captures the everyday, yet with a depth and intimacy that calls to mind Gauguin’s bold identities.
If we stretch our imaginations,’ she added with a playful smile, ‘one could argue that if Gauguin were alive today, he might be this artist—a woman.’ Her words hung in the air, a delicate suspension of thought that made the room hold its collective breath.
A student in the front row spoke up.
‘She’s incredible.
We should invite her to the campus.’ Nari tilted her head, as though considering it.
‘We could try.
But for now, that’s all for today.
See you all next Friday.’ The students began to file out, still caught in the spell of the lecture.
From the back of the room, a soft clapping rose.
Eu-jin rose from his seat, his gaze fixed on her with awe.
‘Wow,’ he said as he approached her.
‘I wish I’d had teachers who spoke with such passion.’ Nari chuckled, the corners of her lips curving upward in a way that betrayed both her pride and embarrassment.
‘Oh really!
Science still needs you.
What are you doing here anyway?’ ‘I came to bring you something,’ he said simply.
… Nam Ji-yeon’s car was parked on a residential street where the lampposts lighted faintly.
Inside, Ji-yeon drummed her fingers on the steering wheel with a rhythm that betrayed her fraying patience.
Beside her, Kim Jin-na sat stiffly, her eyes flickering nervously across the street, as if expecting something—or someone—to appear at any moment.
‘They’re here,’ Jin-na whispered sharply, her voice slicing through the stillness.
She pointed to the car pulling into view—a sleek, silent car driven by Eu-jin.
In their shared panic, Ji-yeon muttered a curse under her breath as she and Jin-na scrambled to lower their seats, ducking out of view like two conspirators caught in a poorly executed heist.
But in their haste, Ji-yeon’s knee struck the horn, sending a sharp honk reverberating through the quiet evening.
Both women froze, their eyes widening in mutual horror as the sound echoed like an accusation through the empty street.
‘Why are you like this?’ Jin-na whispered furiously, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.
Ji-yeon rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath as she sank deeper into her seat.
They peered cautiously over the edge of the dashboard as Eu-jin’s car slowed and parked a little further on.
For a moment, the street was eerily still, the two women tension almost unbearable.
… Inside Eu-jin’s car, Nari sat with a large container of banchan resting on her lap.
The spicy scent filled the small space.
Nari glanced nervously at Eu-jin, whose eyes remained fixed on the road ahead.
‘Thanks for taking me,’ Nari murmured, her voice barely more than a breath, as if afraid to disturb the fragile equilibrium between them.
‘Sara went to say goodbye to her aunt before leaving Seoul.’ Eu-jin responded with a nod.
Nari’s grip on the container tightened.
She faltered, her hand hovering over the door handle.
With a deep breath, she turned to with a courage she did not fully understand even if her voice was uncertain betraying her.
‘Would you… like to come home?’ she asked.
‘There’s too much food here for one person.’ Eu-jin blinked, momentarily taken aback.
‘Mmhhh…
I don’t know what my mother was thinking,’ he mumbled, his voice betraying a hint of embarrassment.
Nari smiled, warmth returning to her tone.
‘We’ll have ramyeon and your mother’s food for dinner,’ she offered, her attempt at levity easing the tension.
After a pause that felt longer than it was, Eu-jin nodded.
‘Okay,’ he said simply.
Nari stepped out of the car, the cool evening air brushing against her skin as she waited for him to join her.
Eu-jin followed, and together they walked toward her apartment.
Only then did Ji-yeon and Jin-na started breathing.
‘That was too close,’ Jin-na muttered, her voice trembling.
‘Next time,’ Ji-yeon muttered, ‘we’re taking your car.’ Jin-na said nothing, her focus locked on the figures stepping out of the car in front of them.
As Nari and Eu-jin disappeared from view, the two women, with exaggerated caution, raised their seats, their earlier panic giving way to curiosity.
Jin-na reached into the glove compartment, pulling out a small bag of snacks with the satisfaction of someone who had earned a reward.
‘Now it all depends on your food,’ Jin-na said, her tone teasing as she popped a chip into her mouth.
‘Are you sure you put a lot of red ginseng in the banchan?’ Ji-yeon smirked, feigning offense.
‘Very sure!
If it doesn’t work as an aphrodisiac, they’ll be in big trouble.’ Their laughter erupted in unison, the sound carefree and mischievous, like two schoolgirls reveling in a shared prank.
The night hours stretched on, seeming longer than the hours of the day.
The stillness of the street was broken only by the occasional car passing in the quiet of the night.
Jin-na, ever watchful, munched on her snacks, while Ji-yeon struggled to keep her eyelids from succumbing to the pull of sleep.
‘Ehh!
Don’t fall asleep, Ji-yeon!’ Jin-na whispered urgently, nudging her companion awake with a sharp elbow.
Ji-yeon groaned, her exhaustion evident.
‘I’m tired.
We’ve been here for two hours.
Let’s just go home.’ ‘Not yet,’ Jin-na insisted, her gaze fixed on the apartment as if willing the lights to obey her unspoken command.
‘I want to make sure all the lights turn off.’ With a sigh of resignation, Ji-yeon leaned back, her eyes returning to the apartment windows.
Suddenly, she sat up straighter, pointing excitedly.
‘Ehh, look!’ The lights in Nari’s apartment flickered off, leaving the windows in darkness.
‘Good, it worked!’ Jin-na exclaimed triumphantly.
‘At last!
Sometimes divine—or maternal—intervention can save months of agony.’ The two women exchanged relieved smiles, their mission seemingly accomplished.
‘Are we going home?’ Ji-yeon asked, already reaching for the ignition.
‘Yes, our mission is—’ Jin-na began, but her words were cut short.
‘Wait!’ she cried, alarmed.
Ji-yeon froze, her hand hovering over the keys.
‘What’s happening?’ ‘The lights are back on!’ Jin-na exclaimed with panic.
She pointed toward the apartment.
Ji-yeon glanced at the glowing windows and shrugged.
‘So, what?
Some people prefer light, others dark.
Everyone has their tastes.’ Before Jin-na could respond, the front door of the apartment flew open, and Eu-jin emerged, moving with urgency.
He ran toward his car, his footsteps echoing in the stillness of the night.
‘Hide!’ Jin-na hissed, her voice urgent.
Both women quickly lowered their seats, pressing themselves flat against the cushions.
‘Do you think he saw us?’ Ji-yeon whispered with anxiety.
‘No,’ Jin-na replied uncertain.
‘He wasn’t looking this way…
but what happened?’ Ji-yeon fumbled for her phone, her fingers moving quickly as she dialed Eu-jin’s number.
Taking a deep breath, she steadied her voice before speaking.
‘Hi, Eu-jin!
Did you bring the banchan to Kim Nari?
Did she like them?’ ‘Yes, a lot,’ Eu-jin replied, his voice calm on the other end.
‘Thank you.
She said she’ll call you.’ Ji-yeon pressed further, trying to sound casual.
‘Where are you at this time?
I don’t hear you very well.’ ‘I’m in the car,’ Eu-jin explained.
‘Going to rescue Sang-in.
He had a problem with his car.’ ‘Ah, okay!
Let’s talk tomorrow,’ Ji-yeon said, ending the call with a practiced nonchalance.
As the line went dead, silence filled the car once more.
Jin-na slowly raised her seat again, her expression contemplative.
‘We didn’t think about external factors,’ she murmured, shaking her head.
‘We need to be more focused.’ … Eu-jin drove home with Sang-in sleeping beside him, his mind drifting back to the peaceful moment he had shared with Nari moments ago.
The calming serenity of the aquarium inside her house still lingered in his thoughts.
‘I didn’t realize you were so fond of fish,’ he had said.
Nari had smiled gently.
‘Watching them swim relaxes me deeply…
They bring me peace.’ Eu-jin had been curious, noticing the ethereal glow of the fish.
‘Are those luminescent fish?’ he asked, fascinated.
‘Yes.
Would you like to see them more clearly?’ she had replied.
Without waiting for an answer, she reached over, switching off the light.
The soft glow of the aquarium intensified, casting a quiet radiance over the room.
Eu-jin had watched, entranced, as the luminescent fish glided gracefully through the water.
Beside him, Nari glowed with the same ethereal light.
Now he wonders if, had Sang-in not called, he would have dared to take a step forward with Nari—the courage that always seemed to vanish in her presence.