Page 38 of From Paris to Seoul (K-Drama Love Story #2)

“Well, teaching still keeps me around music,” I said. “And I like the idea of helping kids fall in love with it the way I did.”

Baekhyun nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. Then, after a moment, he smiled. “I think you’d be really good at that.”

I felt my heart skip a little. “You think so?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You make people feel comfortable around you. And you’re not just into classical music—you love anime and manga soundtracks too. I think that’d be a great way to connect with kids.”

I smiled at him, appreciating the encouragement. His confidence in me meant more than I could say. I was truly happy for him—for how he was moving forward. Still, a quiet part of me couldn’t help but wonder if I was figuring things out at a much slower pace.

After dinner, we headed upstairs. The second floor housed his mom’s and younger sister’s rooms. We climbed another flight of stairs to reach the third and final floor.

The moment I stepped inside, I felt it. His room was so Baekhyun. Minimalist, yet warm in a way that didn’t feel intentional.

Nothing flashy, but enough. It suited him.

I glanced around, taking in the small bookshelf tucked neatly in the corner, packed with a mix of music theory books, old comic books, and a few well-worn French novels by famous writers like Victor Hugo and Marcel Proust.

Against the slanted ceiling was a single bed, perfectly made, almost as if he never let himself get too comfortable.

Next to it, a compact desk sat free of clutter, positioned by the window. Near the desk, a modest keyboard was lined up against the wall, and an electric bass leaned against its stand beside it.

I pressed a key softly, the sound barely filling the room. “I didn’t know you played bass too.”

He smirked slightly. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

I rolled my eyes and continued scanning the room, but my heart beat a little faster. The house is quiet—just the two of us. And for a fleeting moment, I wondered… what would happen next?

Letting out a small breath to steady myself, I turned back to the desk. That’s when I noticed a photograph near the edge. The image was slightly blurry, but I could still make out a young boy grinning widely, a soccer ball in his hands, standing beside a man with a small, reserved smile.

Without thinking, I picked it up.

Flipping it over, I saw a name scribbled on the back. Yang Hae-jin and Baekhyun. 1998.

I felt Baekhyun’s presence behind me and turned to face him, the photo still in my hand. “This is…?”

“My dad,” he confirmed in a quiet, almost distant voice. “I took that from my grandma’s house.”

His expression was hard to read. “I just keep it there so I won’t forget how he looks.”

Then, something in his gaze shifted. Without another word, he took the photo from me and placed it back on the table, face down—like closing a door he wasn’t ready to walk through.

A second later, his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me into him. His smile was soft, almost teasing. “At least this room is better than that closet I rented in Paris, right?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I gave him a small, nostalgic smile and let my hands rest on the back of his neck—just like the way we danced that night in that questionable nightclub in Paris.

This feels nice.

And in that moment, I realized just how much I had missed him.

He smiled back, and I felt his fingers move slowly against my back, his touch lingering.

Then he leaned in until our lips met—slow, searching, as if trying to lose himself in the moment.

But just as his grip tightened, a sudden noise from the first floor broke through the quiet.

We froze.

Baekhyun stiffened beside me, his arms slowly dropping from my waist.

“They’re supposed to still be at Aunt’s place,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Another muffled voice drifted from downstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps.

I glanced at him. “Should we…?”

He exhaled sharply and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s check.”

We carefully made our way down the stairs, the low hum of conversation growing clearer. It was definitely two women talking—one voice familiar, a little teasing, the other laughing softly.

As we reached the bottom step, the sight before us confirmed what we already knew.

His mom and younger sister stood in the middle of the restaurant, their bags half-dropped by the floor.

“Mom? Ye-bin?” Baekhyun’s voice carried more surprise than anything else.

His sister turned first, her lips freezing mid-chatter the moment she noticed Baekhyun wasn’t alone. Her eyes flickered to me, widening slightly, but before she could say anything, their mother’s gaze followed—first to Baekhyun, then to me, standing beside him.

Baekhyun straightened. “I thought you were staying at Auntie’s place until Thursday?”

Ye-bin answered, oblivious to the tension. “Auntie’s bathroom is broken, so we couldn’t shower. We figured we’d just come back early.” She resumed unpacking their bags, then after a brief pause, her gaze returned to me. “Oh. Hello!”

Baekhyun’s mom didn’t say anything at first, just studied me carefully before turning back to her son.

“Baekhyun.”

He tensed. “Yeah?”

Her gaze flicked between us again before she let out a quiet sigh. “Well. Are you going to introduce us?”

I swallowed and quickly stepped forward, bowing. “I’m Seo-yeon. It’s nice to meet you.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, as if recognizing the name. “Seo-yeon,” she echoed, then looked at Baekhyun again. “That Seo-yeon?”

Baekhyun cleared his throat, shifting. “Uh… yeah.”

Ye-bin’s eyes practically sparkled with mischief. “Wait. The Seo-yeon? As in the actress? The one from—”

“Yes,” Baekhyun cut in quickly, already exasperated.

“Oh my God.” Ye-bin turned to their mother. “Mom, she’s famous! You watch her dramas all the time.”

Their mom hummed, crossing her arms. “I do. You were in a drama with Baekhyunnie once. I love that drama!”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I just stood there awkwardly, nodding with a small smile on my lips.

Then, as if this entire situation were just another normal evening, Baekhyun’s mom sighed and asked, “Have you eaten?”

Baekhyun muttered, “Uh—yes?”

“Oh, that’s why the kitchen smells like garlic and kimchi,” Ye-bin noted.

His mother shook her head, already making her way toward the kitchen. “I’ll heat up some food. You can join us if you want.”

Baekhyun groaned. “Mom, it’s fine—”

His mother ignored him. Instead, she turned to me. “Seo-yeon, do actresses eat normally, or do you all survive on air these days?”

“Uh, yes, I eat normally,” I said, though it wasn’t entirely true. My mind went blank for a moment, and I couldn’t think of a better response.

“Good. Is bibimbap okay for you? I think we have enough leftovers for that.” His mom checked the fridge, her tone casual.

I still couldn’t believe how unfazed his family was by my presence—like it was completely normal for me to be here, in their home, in the middle of the evening. As if I were just another family member visiting. If this had happened in my family, it would have caused an uproar for sure.

We took our seats at the table, watching as Baekhyun’s mom mixed together the leftover ingredients. “Well, it’s nothing fancy, but after hours on the road, we’re starving,” she said, setting the food down along with a few banchans.

For the longest time, I thought it was normal for children—no matter how old—to be at least a little afraid of their mothers. A quiet kind of fear, the kind that made you sit up straighter, mind your words, and measure every response carefully.

But sitting here, with Baekhyun’s family, I realized how different things could be.

Ye-bin talked and talked, filling the room with an easy, cheerful energy. She barely paused between bites, launching into a story about how they’d spent their days at their aunt’s house, picking apples and trying to get their little cousins to help—only to end up doing most of the work themselves.

“And then, Mom nearly fell off the ladder trying to reach the last apples—”

“I did not nearly fall,” their mom interrupted, scooping another spoonful of rice into her bowl. “The ladder was just a little… wobbly.”

Ye-bin grinned. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

Baekhyun let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “I can’t leave you two anywhere.”

His mom rolled her eyes but smiled before turning her attention back to me. “What about you, Seo-yeon? Do you have any family outside of Seoul?”

The question caught me off guard. I quickly swallowed my food, hoping to steady myself.

“Uh, yeah. My grandparents live in Busan,” I said, keeping my tone light. “But everyone’s usually busy, so we don’t get together much.”

Baekhyun shot me a quick glance—subtle, but enough for me to know he wished he could steer the conversation elsewhere.

His mother hummed. “That’s a shame. No matter how busy life gets, family meals are important.”

I forced a small smile, not trusting myself to respond.

Because in my family, on the rare occasions when all four of us—Mom, Dad, my sister, and I—sat down for dinner together, the conversation was either about work, or there was no conversation at all.

But here, even the silences felt warm.