December 2021
Vancouver, Canada
Winter had settled over Vancouver like a thick blanket, soft but biting at the edges. The morning air turned Lexie Jung's breath into pale clouds as she stood at the front steps of her childhood home, the cold seeping through her coat sleeves. Beside her, little Ethan clutched her gloved hand, his tiny suitcase dragging behind him, one wheel catching against the driveway's icy edge.
She paused a moment, her gaze sweeping over the familiar siding of the house, the faint frost on the front window where her mother always hung paper snowflakes in December. It felt strange—how something could look exactly the same yet feel so different when you returned carrying a story too big to tell.
Before she could knock, the front door swung open. Warm air rushed out, carrying the scent of brewed tea and something sweet from the kitchen. "Lexie?" her mother's voice broke through, tight with surprise. Mrs. Jung's eyes widened, taking in the suitcases—and then falling to the small boy half-hidden behind Lexie's coat.
For a heartbeat, the air between them held nothing but quiet shock. Lexie's heart pounded so hard it made her ribs ache. "Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad," she managed, voice catching a little. "This... this is Ethan."
Mr. Jung stepped forward, his expression softening despite the questions in his eyes. Ethan peeked out, small and careful, and lifted a hand in a shy, wobbly wave. "Hello," he whispered, barely louder than the wind.
Lexie bent down, unzipping Ethan's coat. Snowflakes clung stubbornly to his dark hair. "Go on, love," she murmured, coaxing him forward. "Say hi properly."
Mrs. Jung's hand hovered near her mouth before she finally stepped forward, gently brushing frost from Ethan's shoulder. "Ethan?" she repeated softly. "My goodness..."
Lexie swallowed, voice steadying as she met her mother's gaze. "He's my son."
She knew it wasn't the whole truth—but it was the truth that mattered most right now.
* * *
The warmth of the living room felt almost too much after the cold outside. Lexie tugged off Ethan's mittens, helping him wiggle free from his scarf. His eyes scanned the room—curious, a little nervous—as if trying to decide if this place could feel like home.
Lexter came thumping down the stairs in socks and sweats, half-awake. "Lex?" His grin faltered when he spotted the suitcases, then dropped fully when he saw Ethan. "And who's..."
"This is Ethan," Lexie repeated, smoothing Ethan's hair. "My son."
Lexter blinked hard, surprise breaking into a slow grin. "Hey there, buddy," he said, crouching so they were almost eye-level. "Cool dinosaur," he added, pointing to the plush toy peeking from Ethan's bag. Ethan's lips curved into a shy, relieved smile.
A faint creak on the stairs announced Xander, who stood quietly, arms crossed. His gaze landed first on Lexie, searching, then on Ethan, softening almost imperceptibly. "Hey, Ethan," he said gently. "Welcome home."
The word home curled in Lexie's chest, sharp and warm at once.
* * *
Later, they unpacked slowly, Ethan clinging close to Lexie as she placed his pajamas in an empty drawer that still smelled faintly of cedar. Sunlight streamed through the window, catching dust motes that floated lazily in the air. The ordinary quiet made space for her thoughts to creep in.
What am I really doing? she wondered, folding Ethan's tiny shirts. Back in Manila, her life had been a blur of blueprints, coffee-fueled nights, and site visits. Yet even at her proudest moments, music had tugged at her, patient and insistent. Here, in the hush of her old room, the thought felt clearer than it had in years: Maybe it's time to stop putting it off.
* * *
At dinner, the table felt both familiar and foreign. Ethan perched on a booster seat borrowed from a neighbor, small hands wrapped around a warm glass of milk. The food smelled like childhood: steamed rice, kimchi stew, and sweet glazed potatoes.
After a stretch of quiet, Mrs. Jung finally spoke, voice low but careful. "How old is Ethan, and is he re—"
"Three and no," Lexie cut her off quickly, almost too quickly. Her gaze dropped, spoon stirring rice she hadn't really touched. She shook her head once, firm but tired. "He's adopted," she added, softer this time, almost not wanting to let herself hear it aloud.
She felt her mother's quiet ache, questions lingering at the edges, but also a gentle acceptance settling across the table. Mr. Jung only reached over, gently ruffling Ethan's hair, making the little boy giggle around a mouthful of rice.
* * *
Almost a week had passed since Lexie and Ethan came home, and now it was the day before Christmas Eve. The house felt busier, warmer, filled with the scent of gingerbread and pine, yet the quiet curiosity that lingered since their arrival hadn't quite faded.
Lexie had just finished helping her mom knead dough in the kitchen, her hands still dusted with flour, when the doorbell rang. She barely had time to wipe them clean before Lexter's voice called out from the entryway, laced with something between mischief and excitement.
"Lex! You might wanna see this."
She stepped closer—and froze.
There, rain still clinging to his dark jacket and hair slightly mussed from the wind, stood Matthew. Her best friend from childhood, who had moved back to Seoul years ago, now standing right in front of her like he'd only been gone a week.
"Mattie..." Lexie whispered, breath catching in her chest. The name felt like an old song lyric she hadn't dared say out loud in years.
"Hey, Lex," Matthew said, his smile crooked and familiar. "Surprise."
His gaze fell naturally to Ethan, who peeked out shyly from behind Lexter's leg, fingers curled around his uncle's jeans. Lexie felt her pulse quicken, but she steadied herself and crouched down beside her son. "This is Ethan ... my son."
Matthew blinked once, surprise flickering in his eyes, but it melted almost instantly into warmth. "Hey there, buddy. I'm Mattie—your mom's old friend from way back."
Ethan hesitated, then offered a small, careful bow. "Hello... Mattie Samchon."
Matthew chuckled, glancing at Lexie with a grin that still had the boyish edge but softer now, more grown. "Polite kid. Got that from you, huh?"
The day didn't slow down there. Matthew barely had time to set his suitcase by the door before Lexter, half-teasing, half-practical, suggested they all head out to the city to finish Christmas shopping. Vancouver's winter streets were bright with lights, store windows fogged with warmth, and the sound of carols spilling out onto the sidewalks.
They moved as a small, oddly comforting group: Matthew carrying Ethan on his shoulders at times, Lexter darting between shops to look for wrapping paper, and Lexie walking a step behind, bags in each hand.
In one quieter moment, standing near a small café waiting for Lexter to run back from the bakery next door, Lexie found herself staring at the swirl of steam from Matthew's takeaway coffee cup. She took a slow breath. "Mattie... there's something I should tell you."
His eyes met hers, calm and patient in the winter light.
"I did... adopt Ethan," Lexie confessed, words quiet, almost hidden by the sound of passing cars. "My parents know that part. But there's more to it. I'm just... not ready to tell... not yet."
Matthew didn't push. He just nodded once, easy and accepting, like he always had. "Hey," he said, voice low, "you don't owe me the whole story. Not until you're ready."
Lexie's shoulders eased a little, and she felt a small warmth spread through her chest, gratitude tangled with relief.
Later, over cups of hot chocolate in the quiet corner of a small bookstore café, Matthew's grin turned teasing, that familiar playful glint in his eyes.
"So... you know one of your brothers spilled the beans, right?"
Lexie tilted her head, eyebrow raised. "Which one? Lexter?"
"Nah," Matthew chuckled, shaking his head. "Alexis. Turns out the moment he heard you'd flown back to Vancouver without telling anyone, he couldn't help himself."
Lexie let out a soft laugh despite herself. "Of course he did. He always was the worst at keeping family secrets."
"Don't be too mad," Matthew teased gently. "If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have rushed back here either."
Lexie looked down into her mug, watching the steam swirl and fade. "When is Alexis landing, anyway?"
"Today, actually," Matthew said. "Your mom mentioned it earlier. Just in time for the holidays."
Lexie's chest tightened, the warmth of nostalgia mixed with something heavier. "It's been so long... years, really, since we've all been under the same roof," she murmured, her voice softer now. "Ever since I left for work in the Philippines, I barely came home. Our holidays never lined up. And then when your family moved back to Korea..."
Matthew's expression gentled, listening without interrupting.
"It started to feel like I was always away," Lexie admitted quietly. "And about four years ago, I stopped coming back and forth altogether. I didn't mean to let it happen, but... it must've looked like I was cutting ties."
Matthew shook his head slightly. "Maybe it did... but honestly? Most people understand, Lex. Life just pulls us around sometimes."
They lingered there a little longer, talking about Alexis' flight and old memories — the warmth of family mingling with the quiet hope of new beginnings.
Yet even as she listened, Lexie's thoughts wandered, tugged by something heavier.
Four years. Four whole years in the same country as Alexis — both of them chasing work and degrees, deadlines and new chapters — yet she had never once picked up the phone to call him.
Not even a quick message to ask how he'd been, or a quiet, "I miss you."
It wasn't as if she didn't care. She did. God, she did.
But the longer she stayed silent, the harder it felt to break it.
And so the silence stretched on — until it felt almost natural.
Almost like she'd let it become part of who she was.
Sitting there in that little bookstore café, the smell of chocolate and old paper around them, Lexie let herself feel the weight of that choice.
And for the first time in a long time, she promised herself that maybe it was time to change it.
Just then, Matthew nudged her lightly, pulling her back. "Actually there's... there's another reason I'm back," he admitted, his tone softening.
Lexie glanced up, curiosity flickering behind her tired eyes. "Oh?"
"My parents asked me to talk to you," he began carefully. "They were hoping you'd consider managing the renovation of our old house in Seoul. They still trust your taste, Lex... and, well, you always knew that house almost as well as we did."
Lexie felt her breath catch for a second — part surprise, part something closer to guilt.
She set her mug down gently. "Matt... there's something I should tell you," she began, voice quieter than before.
Matthew's expression shifted, brows knitting slightly. "What is it?"
"I'm... actually planning to step away from architecture," Lexie confessed, the words tasting strange on her tongue even after all her quiet rehearsals. "For good, I think. I want to focus on music — full time. Not just on weekends, not just as a side thing."
For a heartbeat, Matthew didn't say anything. Then a flicker of surprise passed over his face — quickly replaced by a softer, understanding smile. "Lex... I had no idea," he said gently. "You didn't tell anyone?"
She shook her head faintly. "Not yet. Not really. It felt too soon... too selfish, maybe."
Matthew leaned back a little, letting the words sink in. "Well," he said after a moment, his voice warm, "how about this: let this renovation be your one last project. Close that chapter properly—and then go chase the one you really want. Besides," he added with a teasing grin, "there's a whole industry waiting for someone like you over there. Seoul isn't just concrete and deadlines, Lex."
Lexie's chest tightened, the weight of relief and possibility settling together. "I... actually like that," she admitted, almost in a whisper.
Lexie hesitated, fingers curling around her paper cup. "Honestly, I've been thinking about it," she admitted. "One of the tracks I produced got picked up by a group in Korea. It... it did well. Better than I thought."
Matthew's eyes widened. "Seriously? Lex, that's huge."
"Yeah," she said, voice a bit shaky with the weight of saying it out loud. "So I've been thinking—maybe it's worth going back, just to see what could happen if I give it everything."
Matthew leaned back in his chair, still smiling, still looking like the same old Mattie—but older, calmer, a little wiser. "Then do it," he said softly. "You've earned the right to see where it goes."
Outside, the sky had begun to darken, and the city lights flickered to life one by one. Ethan tugged at Lexie's coat, holding out a half-opened chocolate coin he'd been given by a shop clerk.
She took it from him, smiling. Maybe this is really the start, she thought. Not just coming home, but finding what feels like home in myself again.