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I’m pulled into a deep embrace that knocks the air out of me and can only be described as a mama bear hug.

“Moni baby,” she breathes, kissing my temple. Her hands sweep up and down my back and sides as if checking I’m okay. “You’ve lost a few pounds! Don’t tell me you’re not eating right!”

“I’m fine, Mom,” I murmur into her shoulder, smiling despite myself. “I do a lot of walking here. That’s why.”

She makes ahmphnoise as though my story doesn’t pass her smell test, and then she pulls back just far enough to kiss my cheek and fuss with my curls. Her fingers tug at a loose little coil on my brow before she busies herself fixing the collar of my shirt.

“Did you not iron this?” she asks in her usual blunt manner. “It’s got a wrinkle, baby. I can see it right there.”

I laugh and gently grab at her wrists to pry her hands away.

Andchange the topic.

“Mom, how was your flight?”

She lets out a long and dramatic sigh as I disentangle myself and reach down to grab her suitcase. “It was a hot mess, Moni. I swear these airlines are going downhill. Charge an arm and a leg, and for what? Some soda pop and cheese crackers? My plane landed late in Shanghai, and I almost didn’t make the connection to Busan. Can you believe that? After flying halfway around the world? I said, ‘You’re not about to leave me stranded in China. I’ve got my baby to see!’ And the gate attendant had the nerve to look at me like I was crazy?—”

“There are cabs outside,” I interrupt, guiding her toward the exit. “Let’s get your luggage loaded. Then you can tell me all about the evil gate attendant on the ride to my apartment.”

Outside, the air is moist and hot. The typical summer day in South Korea, frizzing my coily hair as the bright sun casts everything in a warm, golden glow.

It would almost feel like the perfect day, if not for the gnawing tightness that’s been living inside me for a week now.

I tried my best to focus on preparing for Mom’s visit, scrubbing the apartment squeaky clean and planning day trips and activities for us to do. But no matter how hard I tried, the dread and paranoia remained, driving me to even change the code for my front door.

Just in case. Just to be as safe as possible while Mom’s here.

As soon as we’ve hailed a cab and are sliding into the backseat, Mom’s back to her chattiness.

“So tell me, baby. How’s school? You still liking it?”

“I do. The kids are sweet.”

“Made any friends yet?”

I glance sideways at her and laugh. “Mom, what am I? Ten years old? You used to ask me these questions when I was in elementary school.”

She grins, pinching my cheek like she used to. “Some things never change, Moni. Like the fact that you’ll always be my baby.”

We’re in motion now, crossing through Busan’s busiest streets to make it to my neighborhood.

“So? Speaking of friends, found any special guy friends out here in Korea? Anyone tall, handsome, and good with chopsticks?”

My whole face flushes hot. “Mom.”

“What?” she giggles. “You know I taught you love is color blind. I don’t care what complexion the man you bring home is, Moni. Just so long as he treats my baby well. If you find yourself a Korean man, I’m okay with that.”

“Mom, seriously?” I shake my head, the expression on my face half incredulous smile, half horrified grimace.

“You’re a beautiful, smart young woman who deserves the best,” she recites like she always does. My biggest cheerleader in life. “I want you to marry a man who treats you like gold. Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“I know, Mom,” I groan. “But I’m not interested in dating right now, okay? I’m not ready.”

She quiets at that, knowing what I mean.

Though neither of us dare mention his name.

A stretch of silence falls over the taxicab.