It All Started With A Creepy Mail ⚊ Yang Jungwon [#4]

✗ thirty five ✗

⚊ chapter thirty five

Dinner was in full swing when I walked into the kitchen, the rich, savory smell of adobo filling the air. Papa was at the stove, stirring the pot with the kind of care that made me smile.

Adobo was one of my favorite Filipino dishes, and it always reminded me of home, no matter where we were.

Mama was already seated at the counter, going through some work papers, but she looked up and smiled when I entered.

“Excited for dinner?” she asked.

I nodded, settling into a chair near her. “It smells amazing.”

Papa chuckled as he plated the adobo, setting the dish in the middle of the table.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, turning to me with a warm smile. “So, how’s Seoul treating you? Are you starting to feel more at home?”

I paused, thinking about the question.

“It was hard at first,” I admitted, “I was really upset with both of you for making me move here. But... it’s growing on me. I’ve made some good friends, like Minji and Jungwon, and they’ve helped me see the city in a different light.”

Mama smiled knowingly. “We’ve noticed you’ve been getting more acquainted with Seoul. You seem happier.”

I shrugged, a bit embarrassed by the attention. “I guess. Seoul is still overwhelming sometimes, but it’s not so bad when you’ve got people who make it feel like home.”

Papa grinned as he began serving the adobo. “That’s good to hear. It sounds like you’ve had some interesting experiences.”

I laughed, thinking back to the pajama party. “Yeah, like squeezing fifteen people into one living room for a pajama party. It was cramped, but honestly, it was a lot of fun. Everyone was so entertaining and nice—it was worth the lack of space.”

Papa raised an eyebrow, his tone curious. “And what about this Jungwon? We’ve noticed he’s been giving you a lot of rides home lately.”

Before I could respond, Mama let out a small squeal, and I felt my cheeks heat up.

“Oh my gosh, Mama, stop,” I muttered, trying to hide my embarrassment. “It’s not like that.”

But of course, my parents weren’t letting it go.

They exchanged a glance, both of them clearly amused by my flustered state. “We just want to know if he’s special,” Mama teased.

I sighed, knowing there was no escaping this conversation.

“He’s just a friend,” I said, though the words felt a bit hollow. “But yeah, he’s... important to me. He’s been there for me when I needed someone, and I guess I’ve come to rely on him.”

Papa nodded thoughtfully, and Mama looked like she was bursting with curiosity, but thankfully, they didn’t press any further. We ate in comfortable silence, the warmth of the adobo settling in my stomach and making me feel content.

After dinner, Mama excused herself to the restroom, leaving me and Papa to clean up. As we stacked the dishes,

Papa spoke again, his voice gentle. “How are you really feeling about all the changes, Jillian?”

I paused, considering his question. “I’m used to it by now,” I admitted. “Moving around, losing friends, never really getting to build lasting connections—it’s been my life for as long as I can remember.”

Papa’s expression softened with a hint of sadness. “I’m sorry, Jillian. We’ve always wanted to give you the best life, but I know it hasn’t been easy for you.”