The next morning, Christmas Day dawned quieter than the night before. Soft winter light streamed into the kitchen, catching on the steam from a boiling kettle and the gentle clink of utensils against plates. Lexie stood beside her mother, slicing fruit while Mrs. Jung stirred pancake batter.
For a while, they worked in comfortable silence, the only sounds coming from the kitchen radio playing old carols and Ethan's giggles drifting faintly from the living room where Lexter entertained him.
Then Lexie drew in a slow breath, steadying herself against the hush of the morning kitchen — the faint clink of cups and the soft hum of the kettle filling the silence.
"Mom," she began gently, her voice almost blending with the steam curling from her mug. "I wanted to tell you... about the offer Matthew brought up. The renovation project in Seoul, from the Lees."
Her mother paused, looking over gently. Lexie traced the rim of her cup with her thumb, gathering her thoughts.
"I've decided I'm going to take it," she continued, her words careful but steady. "As my last project in architecture — before I finally leave it behind."
She drew in another breath, meeting her mother's eyes this time. "And while I'm there... I want to take the chance to really try. To see if I can finally make something out of music — not just as a hobby squeezed between deadlines, but as my real path."
For a moment, her voice softened, almost fragile. "I know it sounds sudden, Mom... but I feel like if I don't do it now, I might never do it at all."
Her mother's eyes softened, but worry tugged gently at the corners. "And Ethan?" she asked quietly.
Lexie swallowed, gaze falling to the cutting board. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Would it... would it be alright if he stayed here? Just for a few months—until I find some kind of stability there?"
The words felt heavy on her tongue, equal parts guilt and hope.
Mrs. Jung set the whisk down, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel before reaching out to gently touch Lexie's arm. "Dear, of course. He's my grandson," she said, voice warm and steady despite the hint of sadness. "But promise me something: don't carry this as if you're leaving him behind. You're doing this for him too."
Lexie nodded, her eyes stinging. "I know, Mom. Thank you."
The conversation was still lingering between Lexie and her mom when Matthew stepped quietly into the kitchen, a faint grin softening his usual playful expression.
"Hey, Lex," he said, voice gentle. "Um... my mom's on the phone. She'd like to talk to you—if you're up for it."
Lexie wiped her hands on a dish towel, heart giving a small, unexpected flutter. "Sure," she murmured, following him toward the living room where he'd left the phone resting on a side table.
Matthew handed it to her carefully, mouthing, She's just happy to hear from you.
Lexie pressed the receiver to her ear, voice quiet. "Hello? Woori eomeoni"
"Oh, Lexie!" Mrs. Lee's voice came through, warm and familiar, like a soft embrace over the line. "It's been far too long, my dear. Matthew told us you're back in Vancouver. How have you been?"
Lexie felt her shoulders relax a little, comforted by the gentle tone. "I've been... alright, eomeoni," she admitted softly. "Still trying to settle back in."
"I'm glad to hear that," Mrs. Lee replied, her voice carrying the same gentle sincerity. "And... Matt mentioned you might be thinking about stepping away from architecture. I hope you've had a little time to breathe."
Lexie managed a faint smile, though her heart still felt heavy with uncertainty. "A little, yes," she murmured.
There was a pause, filled only with the faint background sounds of Mrs. Lee's house on the other end. Then, carefully, Aunt Joy spoke again:
"Lexie... I know Matt already told you about the house in Seoul we hope to renovate. Please know: we'd never want to add more to your plate. But if you feel ready—truly ready—it would mean a lot to us to have you take it on."
The words were careful, thoughtful, never demanding — more like an invitation from family than a formal request.
Lexie took a quiet breath, the memories of the old Lee house flickering in her mind: its quiet corners, the gentle hush of late afternoons, the years etched into its walls.
"Eomoni," she began softly, fingers curling around the phone cord, "I... actually, I've already given it some thought since last night, when Matthew mentioned it."
She paused, letting the weight of that truth settle. Just one night — but enough for her heart to turn it over, to weigh what it could mean: one last project before fully stepping away, and maybe a doorway into something she's wanted for so long.
"And... I'd love to help," Lexie finished, her voice steadier now. "It feels right to take this on before I decide what's really next for me."
"Oh, Lexie," Mrs. Lee's relief and gratitude flowed warmly through the line. "Thank you, dear. That really does mean so much to us. And there's no rush—come when you're ready, after the holidays, alright?"
"I will," Lexie promised, her chest loosening just a bit. "Thank you, eomoni."
"No, thank you, Lexie," came the gentle reply. "Take your time, dear. And... Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, eomoni," Lexie echoed softly, heart both heavier and strangely lighter at once.
As she lowered the receiver, the faint click echoed louder in the quiet living room than she expected.
Across the room, Matthew — who'd been leaning silently against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her carefully — straightened, his eyes wide with quiet surprise.
"You... really said yes?" he asked, voice tinged with disbelief, but quickly breaking into a warm, almost boyish grin.
Lexie managed a small, almost shy nod, still absorbing her own words. "Yeah," she exhaled, her own smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I did."
Matthew's grin widened, relief and happiness shining openly in his gaze. "Lex, that's... that's really good news," he murmured, his tone softer now. "I'm glad. Really glad."
For a moment, they just looked at each other — childhood memories, quiet Christmases, and all the changes waiting just beyond tomorrow gently filling the space between them.
They stood there a second longer until Mrs. Jung emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. "Lexie?" she asked gently, her brow lifting in quiet question.
Lexie's gaze dropped, but then she looked up again, voice steadier. "I told Woori-eomoni I'd do it, Mom. The renovation project in Seoul."
Her mother's expression shifted from surprise to quiet acceptance. "Alright," Mrs. Jung said softly, though her eyes held a thousand unspoken feelings. "If it feels right to you, then it's the right choice."
Lexie hesitated, the words catching in her chest before she let them spill out. "It does. And... after that, I really want to try. Really try. With music."
Matthew's grin flickered into something closer to pride. "Told you there'd be room for both," he murmured.
Lexie huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. "Maybe. But first things first."
* * *
That evening, after dinner, Lexie found herself in her room, folding a small pile of clothes she'd set aside for Seoul. The house felt unusually calm — the soft hum of conversation drifting from downstairs, the faint ticking of the hallway clock.
She caught her reflection in the mirror: the same eyes, the same quiet determination — but there was something softer around the edges now.
It's really happening, she thought. One last project. One last goodbye to the life I built — and maybe the first real hello to the one I've always wanted.
She set the folded shirt aside, exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Her gaze drifted to a small messy drawing Ethan had left on her desk: two stick figures, one taller, one smaller, with shaky hearts above their heads.
"I'm doing this for you too, love," she whispered into the empty room, her voice almost swallowed by the quiet.
That night she checked on Ethan before bed, watching him sleep curled up against his stuffed dinosaur. In the dim light, his small chest rose and fell — steady, gentle, reminding her of every reason she'd made this choice.
She bent to kiss his forehead, the softest brush of a promise.
Just a few months, she thought. Enough time to build something new — not just for me, but for you too, love.
Downstairs, she could hear her brothers' laughter mixing with Matthew's, the comforting murmur of family drifting up the stairwell. The house felt strangely full again, like a door she thought had closed was quietly opening back up.
Lexie lingered by Ethan's bedside, fingertips brushing his blanket. I know it won't be easy, she told herself silently. Being a mother and still wanting something for myself. But maybe it doesn't have to be one or the other.
She drew in a steady breath, letting it fill her chest and ease some of the old guilt that always seemed to sit there.
Maybe it can be both. And maybe that's okay.