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“Fun?” Yena had said the word like it was a virus.

“Yeah, do you knit? Play games? Read...” Miyoung trailed off at the icy glare from her mother.

“What a strange question. I honestly don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Yena said.

“I think I’m just tired.” And Miyoung had asked to be excused to her room.

Maybe that was why Yena had texted saying she wouldn’t be home for dinner tonight. She probably wanted to avoid Miyoung’s “strange questions.” And without her the house felt empty, with nothing but Yena’s collection of artifacts for company.

Miyoung was so often alone. That was how she started loving dramas. They were always on. The weekend daytime shows depicted family melodrama; the evening prime-time shows often showed more high-stakes stories. And some took on thefantastical. She remembered when she was younger and there were reruns of a drama on. The main character was a nine-tailed fox who fell in love.

She couldn’t wait to share the drama with her mother. It reminded her of her parents—a human boy falling for a gumiho girl. She’d never heard the story of how her parents had met, so her heart had filled in the blanks with the soft moments and sweet love that bloomed between the main characters.

When Yena had gotten home, Miyoung showed her the first episode that she recorded. Yena smashed the television set and told Miyoung if this was how she spent her days, then there was no need for a TV at all.

That night as Miyoung cried herself to sleep, Yena came into her room and apologized.

“It surprised me,” Yena explained. “And it’s wrong. That’s not something I want you to fill your head with. It’s dangerous to think that’s possible.”

“But you met my dad. You fell in love with him.”

“Meeting your father was a mistake, and it was nothing like that drama. He was a man and men only ever want one thing from us. I was tricked into thinking he could be different. But in the end he abandoned us. He couldn’t love his own daughter enough to stay. I don’t ever want that for you.”

And it was the first and last time Yena had ever discussed Miyoung’s father with her.

Tonight, the weeknight dramas weren’t holding Miyoung’s attention, and she checked her watch. Dinner should have been delivered by now. She glanced at the crumpled menu that had been wedged in their mailbox. She usually didn’t order in, but there was nothing in the fridge and she was starving.

Miyoung rubbed a hand over her stomach as it turned and twisted. It was almost painful, but it wasn’t as if she’d been neglecting her meals. At least not for food.

The doorbell chimed and she jumped up. She swung the door open and reached for the food when she stopped short. In front of her, holding out a plastic-covered delivery tray, was Ahn Jihoon.

“What are you doing here?” she blurted out, though it was fairly obvious as she saw his delivery scooter behind him.

“I’m working,” he said, glancing at the tray he held between them.

Miyoung grabbed it, and if it hadn’t been wrapped so tightly, soup would have sloshed out of the metal bowls. She set it on the ground and held out a few bills.

But Jihoon wasn’t paying attention to her. He craned his neck back and stared at the vaulted living room and let out an impressed whistle.

“I’ve never seen inside of here. Too scared to take a peek.”

“Are you going to stop babbling and take the money?” Mi-young asked.

“You know they say this place is haunted,” Jihoon continued, making to step inside.

Miyoung moved to block, causing him to collide with her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She made her tone icy like she’d heard Yena do when she was displeased.

“Come on, you can’t blame me for being curious,” Jihoon said with a wide smile that flashed his dimples. “They’ve been telling stories about this house since I was born. That it once belonged to an old witch whose lover ran away and she placed a curse on it so no one who ever lived here would find love.”

Miyoung rolled her eyes, but she folded her arms, suddenly wondering if she felt a chill.

“You’re an idiot if you believe in those types of stories.”

“Really? And would I be an idiot to believe in stories about gumiho and goblins?” Jihoon asked with a laugh that sounded too relaxed.

Miyoung could tell he had no intention of leaving quietly. It would just be easier to give in than waste time arguing with him.