Diary of a Kpop idol

Chapter 01

August 04

I was in Los Angeles to visit my former nanny, Jamie. Born in Paris in 2005, I spent my early years in San Francisco before moving away at five. Jamie, who had since married and moved to LA with her husband, now has two children. When she opened the door, it took her a moment to recognize me.

She warmly welcomed us inside, offering cool drinks to escape the summer heat. With her husband at work and her kids at school, we had some quiet time together. As I enjoyed a mango drink, Jamie shared stories from when I was a toddler.

My birth name is Yee Lee, but everyone called me "E" because the names sound similar.

"You were more talented than your peers," Jamie said with a smile. At 42, she had aged gracefully, with a few wrinkles marking the passage of time. Now, at 13, I listened to her stories with fondness.

"You said your first word at just 7 months old. Can you guess what it was?" she asked.

"Mom?" I guessed, recalling that I was visiting with my guardian, Xingyi, instead of my parents.

"Not 'Mom,' but 'First,'" Jamie said with a laugh. I was puzzled, but it was clear that Jamie and Xingyi were recalling a funny memory.

They laughed about how she used to say, "First, drink the milk, and then I’ll take you outside." I just rolled my eyes at their amusement.

"At seven months, she could stand with support but not walk. Do you know why?" Jamie asked, and Xingyi shook her head.

"Because she was too chubby," Jamie said. Xingyi looked at me, surprised. "Why can’t I see any meat on her bones?" she joked, making them both laugh. I ignored their teasing.

Xingyi and I have been through a lot together, and she’s like a sister to me. Though I’m no longer as skinny as I once was, I still have some baby fat. Before this trip, I weighed 34 kg, but I gained 2 kg from food and water. I had weighed 38 kg after my recent birthday. Xingyi often checks my weight because of its unusual fluctuations.

Jamie continued sharing stories until her children returned from school. I gave them the chocolates I had brought. After lunch, Xingyi and I headed to our old house in San Francisco.

When we arrived, the house was well-maintained. The gate had been replaced, and rose vines adorned the walls, giving the garden a medieval look. A white garden house stood to the left as we entered.

Inside, I took a tour to jog my memory of the past. Though my memories were faint, I still recognized some things. I went upstairs, reminding Xingyi that she could choose any room she liked, before heading to my own.

My room was large and fancy, with a walk-in closet and a library. It wasn’t decorated in pink, reflecting the preferences I had back then. I had once hidden teddy bears in the closet, not wanting to disappoint expectations.

The room had a wide corridor with three-drawer cupboards on the right side. A large window offered a view of the bed. There were two more doors: one led to a study with bookshelves full of books, and the other led to the bathroom.

I lay down on my bed, appreciating the spacious house. It had five bedrooms, two guest rooms, eight bathrooms, a study, a kitchen, a dining area, a large living room, a store room, a laundry room, a big balcony, and space for two cars. There was also a housekeeper’s room and rooms for piano practice and gymnastics. The house was a comfortable, impressive space filled with memories.

As I lay there, I found myself lost in thought, reminiscing about the times spent in this house. The silence of the large rooms was comforting, yet it also felt a bit unfamiliar, as if the house remembered me but had moved on in my absence.

Xingyi's voice echoed from downstairs, reminding me that we had the entire evening to ourselves. I made my way down the wide staircase, passing by the grand piano in the music room, a place where I had once practiced for hours under a gentle tutor's guidance. The memories felt like they belonged to someone else, yet they were mine.

"Do you want to go out for dinner or cook something here?" Xingyi asked as I entered the kitchen. She was leaning against the marble countertop, her phone in hand, scrolling through restaurant options.

"I think I'd like to cook. It might be fun to make something together," I replied, feeling a sudden urge to create something in this house that held so many old memories. It was a way to make it feel more like my home again.

Xingyi smiled. "Alright, let's see what we can find in the fridge. It looks like the housekeeper stocked up for us."

We rummaged through the fridge and pantry, gathering ingredients for a simple but delicious meal—pasta with fresh vegetables and a light salad on the side. As we cooked, the kitchen filled with the aroma of garlic and herbs, and we chatted about everything and nothing, slipping into the easy companionship that defined our relationship.

After dinner, we took our plates out to the balcony, where the soft evening breeze carried the distant hum of the city. The view was as beautiful as I remembered, with the lights of San Francisco twinkling in the distance. It was moments like these that made me appreciate the calm amid all the changes in my life.

As we sat there, I felt a sense of contentment. This house, once filled with the laughter and energy of my childhood, was now a place of quiet reflection. It wasn't just a building—it was a part of me, holding pieces of my past while making space for new memories.

Later that night, as I got ready for bed, I stood in front of the mirror in my old room. I couldn’t help but notice how much I had changed since I last lived here. Yet, in some ways, I was still the same little girl who had hidden teddy bears in the closet and played outside until dusk.

Climbing into bed, I pulled the covers up and closed my eyes, listening to the faint rustle of the wind outside. The house might have changed, and so had I, but being here again felt like reconnecting with an old friend. As sleep gently overtook me, I knew that this place would always be a part of my story, no matter where life took me next.