Page 23 of Tell Me Where It Ends

His mother opens the door before we even ring the bell, launching herself at him with a hug that could put an Olympic wrestler to shame. “Our Shin is home!” she cries, her voice a curious, charming mix of accents.

Then she sees me. Her eyes go wide. “Oh my. You brought her.THEYoon Min-hee?”

I brace myself. Instead, she grabs both my hands, her smile bright enough to light up the porch. “Waaah, you’re even prettier in person! And so tall! Are you hungry? Of course you are, you’re too skinny—”

“Eomma…” Shin groans, pure embarrassment in his voice. I can’t help but smile, letting out the breath I’d been holding anxiously—a wave of homespun warmth I hadn’t realized I’d been craving.

I spend the next few minutes braced for awkward questions about the scandal, the polite distance people usually adopt around celebrities.

But it never comes.

This easy, uncomplicated acceptance seems to be a family trait. His dad is a quiet man who greets me with a firm handshake and finds me a pair of slippers that actually fit.

His mom, a whirlwind of energy, is already bustling in the kitchen. “Here,bap mura!” she calls not long after we put our things down, setting out an impressive spread ofbanchanon the table: pan-fried pollock, grilled eel, salted squid, kimchi, and seaweed.

I tilt my head, confused by the unfamiliar phrase. Shin leans over, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks. “She meansbap meogeora—’let’s eat,’” he whispers. “Her dialect’s a mix of a few things.”

I nod, hiding a grin. It feels like I’ve been dropped into a family variety show—one I’ve only ever seen on TV.

Then she brings out the main dish:gejang—raw marinated crab—and I practically drool.

We all sit, and for a few minutes, the only sound is the happy, focused silence of a good meal. I finish a whole crab with my hands and ask for another bowl of rice. Shin looks at me like I’ve sprouted a second head.

“Don’t start,” I warn him. This is the first time in years I haven’t been mentally counting calories, and it feels incredible.

His parents and sister are watching me, probably wondering who this random actress is, crashing their weekend and devouring all their food.

But his mom just smiles. “There’s more in the fridge,” she says. “You can take it back to Seoul.”

Over lunch, I learn three important things:

Shin’s Seoul accent disappears here;

They have a family cat, Mandu, who rules the house like a furry mob boss;

His little sister, Min-a, remembers everything.

“You used to be inMoonlight Girls,” she says when I enter her room, not even looking at me. “You wore a blue ribbon on the 2016MCountdownstage. Your mic pack was crooked.”

“Wow. That is… shockingly accurate.”

“She remembers everything,” Shin says from the doorway. “Be careful.”

“Where’s my gift?” Min-a demands suddenly, spinning to face him. Shin gently catches her small, pounding fists. “Hey, we talked about this. Gifts come after you blow out the candles. There’s cake, remember?”

Min-a nods and calms down, returning to her bookshelf. I watch the way he is with her—the endless, quiet patience—and an odd, fluttering warmth stirs in my chest. I clear my throat, mostly to distract myself from my own thoughts.