Second Overtime | JENSOO & CHAELISA

Chapter XXXIII

By the time Jisoo got home, her knee had been checked, iced, wrapped, and she'd been scolded by three different adults. 

The trainer had not looked impressed. Coach Minzy had looked even less impressed when the trainer came back with the report: inflammation, mild swelling, no major damage yet, but enough to make it clear she needed to stop before it got worse. The trainer also advised having her knee checked by her doctor.

That was one conversation Jisoo was not looking forward to at all.

By the time she reached the front door, she was exhausted in a way practice had never made her feel. Practice tired out her body. This, the lectures, the worried looks, the silence from Lisa that stung worse than any shouted insult, this had hollowed out something deeper. She stood outside far longer than necessary, keys in her hand, staring at the lock. Irene was inside. Coach Minzy had called her.

Jisoo could already imagine how it would go. Irene pacing. Irene pointing at her knee. Irene demanding, Are you out of your mind? Irene reminding her of every hospital visit, every physical therapy session, every night she'd helped Jisoo up the stairs when walking felt impossible.

Jisoo deserved all of it. That didn't mean she wanted to hear it.

Finally, she sighed and unlocked the door.

The apartment smelled like food, which confused her. She'd been expecting Irene to march up to her the moment she heard the door open, but she hadn't expected her to be cooking. It smelled like soup, maybe. Rice. Something savory and warm drifting from the kitchen.

Jisoo closed the door quietly behind her. "I'm home," she called, her voice smaller than she intended.

"In the kitchen," Irene answered.

Her tone was calm. Jisoo didn't know if that was a good thing or not. She slipped off her shoes and made her way down the hall. Her knee throbbed under the fresh wrap. Every step reminded her of Coach Minzy's office and of Lisa not looking at her when she walked out of the gym.

Irene stood by the stove, hair tied back, sleeves pushed to her elbows. She didn't turn around right away. She stirred something in a pot, tasted it, then switched off the burner. On the table, there was already a bowl of rice, soup, side dishes, and a glass of water set out for one person. 

Jisoo stopped in the doorway. Irene looked at her.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Jisoo braced herself for the explosion—the anger, the lecture, the I told you so that Irene had every right to deliver. She waited for her sister's voice to rise, for the familiar rhythm of Irene's fear transforming into fury.

Instead, Irene pulled out a chair. "Sit down," she said.

Jisoo hesitated. 

Something about Irene's composure unsettled her more than anger would have. Anger was familiar, she knew how to deal with that. But this felt like standing on unfamiliar ground.

"Sit, Jisoo." Irene repeated.

Her tone wasn't sharp. It was the kind of calm that came after the storm had already passed, or before it had even begun. That was what made Jisoo obey faster than yelling ever could have.

Irene placed the soup in front of her, then sat down across the table with her own bowl. 

She didn't ask about Coach Minzy or glance at Jisoo's knee every three seconds, although Jisoo could tell she wanted to. Instead, she simply picked up her spoon and started eating, as if this were any ordinary evening. 

Jisoo stared at the food. Her stomach twisted. She'd barely eaten all day, but the thought of swallowing anything made her throat feel too small. The steam rose from the soup in soft curls, carrying the smell of garlic and ginger and something else, something that reminded her of being younger, of being sick on the couch and Irene bringing her broth in a mug because it was easier to hold.