"Come back next time. Han River Garden will always be here," she said, smiling so brightly.
"어머, 얼굴만 봐도 다시 오고 싶어. 계속 보고 싶네."
(Oh my gosh, I'd come back just to stare at your face again and again.)
Christy smiled, touched by the kindness, and placed a hand over her chest in gratitude. The customers were always like this, sweet, warm, genuine. She watched as the woman hurried off, the bell above the door chiming softly.
Christy pulled off her pink cooking gloves and set them on the counter before lifting the lid of the steaming pot. The meat inside was almost ready. It was nearing closing time at the small restaurant her father owned, the one their family had managed for years. It wasn't big, but it was popular in the marketplace, popular enough to pay for her education from nursery school all the way to her graduation last month.
And yet… here she was.
She still didn't have a job.
Despite her grades, her certificates from home and abroad, despite all the applications she had sent out, no one had called. Not a single interview. The hope she once carried so proudly was slowly thinning.
Her eyes itched as she turned the meat, blinking back the sting. Tonight, she was making stew for home. Her father's favorite. The other dishes she had prepared were already packed neatly to take with them.
Just as she lowered the fire and reached to step away, the bell chimed again.
"A customer?" she murmured, closing the pot.
But when she turned, she sighed in relief.
"할머니—Halmeoni. You're here."
Her grandmother stood at the entrance, smiling gently. Christy walked straight into her arms, and the woman hugged her back tightly.
"How was today? Did everything go well?"
Christy nodded. "Yes. Just the usual. People telling me I should be on TV as a movie star." She chuckled. "Very funny."
Her grandmother cupped Christy's cheek, eyes shining. "They aren't lying. You look so beautiful. Truly… out of this world."
She whispered the last words as if it were a secret.
"I came to help you pack up."
She headed straight to the kitchen, lifting the lid of the pot. "This looks good."
"It's for Dad. I'm making his favorite, Doenjang Jjigae."
Her grandmother nodded approvingly, then took both of Christy's hands. "Why don't you try going for auditions? You could be famous. Like Kim Tae-ri, Jun Ji-hyun, or Song Hye-kyo. You could be just like them."
Christy laughed softly. "And then I'd probably marry Lee Min-ho, your favorite actor, right?"
Her grandmother chuckled. "He wouldn't refuse. You're so gorgeous, he'd marry you at first glance."
Christy rolled her eyes with a smile. Tall, with cascading black waves and cat-shaped eyes, people often said she looked unreal,
and naturally pink lips, but she'd never taken it seriously.
"Maybe I'd marry Taeyung instead. He's my favorite singer."
Her grandmother's eyes twinkled. "Do you want to be a singer?"
"I failed singing practice ten times. I can't even compose a song. So no."
"Well, actresses marry actors, singers marry singers. That's how it works, isn't it?"
"Nope," Christy said, stirring the pot. "Celebrities can marry anyone. Another celebrity… or even a fan."
Her grandmother wrapped her arms around Christy's waist from behind and lowered her voice. "Then when are you planning to get married?"
Christy sighed. "Grandma, I don't even have a job yet."
"But you don't even have a boyfriend."
"That doesn't erase the fact that I don't have a job," Christy said tiredly.
"You're twenty-four."
"Yes, twenty-four and unemployed. Please stop talking about boyfriends."
She had never dated. Never had the time. Love could wait, responsibility couldn't.
"Oh, to be loved," her grandmother murmured, passing her the sauce.
Christy paused, then poured it into the pot. "By the right person."
They got home later than usual.
"Oma! Opa!" Christy called as she set the food on the table.
Her mother entered moments later. One look at her face made Christy's heart sink.
"What's wrong?" she asked, kissing her cheek. "Are you okay?"
"It's nothing," her mother said quickly, turning away.
"Yes, twenty-four and unemployed. Please stop talking about boyfriends."
She had never dated. Never had the time. Love could wait, responsibility couldn't.
"Oh, to be loved," her grandmother murmured, passing her the sauce.
Christy paused, then poured it into the pot. "By the right person."
—-
They got home later than the rest.
Her grandmother was the first to step into the house, calling out softly for her daughter-in-law and son, announcing their arrival. Christy followed closely behind, quickly placing the bags of packaged meals onto the dining table.
"Oma, Opa!" she called.
The door opened, then closed.
Her mother walked in.
Christy immediately noticed it, the tension in her shoulders, the stiffness in her steps. Her brows knit together as she moved forward, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her mother's cheek.
"What's wrong?" she asked quietly. "Are you okay?"
Her mother hesitated, words catching in her throat. Her grandmother came closer, eyes sharp as she studied the woman's troubled face.
"It's nothing, Christy," her mother finally said, shaking her head. She turned away quickly, as if afraid her daughter might see the frustration written too clearly across her face.
Christy glanced at her grandmother. Their eyes met.
She wasn't the type to give up.
She never had been.
Back in school, when a teacher had confidently declared she would never graduate with distinction, Christy had proved him wrong, earning it and showing him the certificate before she left for college. That was who she was. Determined. Relentless.
Her mother stood by the dining table now, removing the plastic covers from the food containers.
"You made your father's favourite stew," she said, avoiding Christy's gaze. "He'll love it."
Her faint Singaporean accent slipped through her words, the same accent she'd carried ever since falling in love with a Korean man at first sight.
"Is Dad okay, Mom?" Christy asked urgently.
Her grandmother stood beside her, hands resting on her hips. "What's going on, Anna?"
Christy reached for her mother's hand, then suddenly raised her voice.
"Dad! Opa!"
Her mother jerked her head away.
"Fine!" she burst out, her voice loud and brittle. "They were here today."
Christy frowned. "Who was here?"
She stepped closer, touching her mother's arm. "Who, Mom?"
Silence.
Then,
"The people your father owes," her mother said. "From that failed business project three months ago. I swear, Christy, I believe they were the same people who stole the money. The cash disappeared just forty minutes after your father left the building."
Christy blinked, her heart sinking as her mother continued.
"They said they don't do checks or transfers, claimed it's illegal. Cash only. And they gave him two months to pay."
Christy felt heat crawl up her neck.
Debt.
Her family was drowning in it.
She didn't even want to hear the amount. She didn't have money, if she did, she would have handed it over without hesitation. Fear settled deep in her chest.
"It's been three months now," her mother whispered. "We don't have the money. We kept it from you because we didn't want to burden you."
Christy finally understood.
She was the only one who hadn't known.
She turned slowly toward her grandmother. The older woman's eyes fluttered, guilt evident in her slumped shoulders.
"Grandma… you knew?"
She nodded.
Christy hesitated, memories surfacing. Her father had once spoken about the project when he visited her in college, a large fish business, supplying luxury seafood to hotels and high-end restaurants. She had believed in it. Applauded the dream.
But dreams needed money.
Money they never had.
Their small restaurant barely managed her school fees and daily living expenses. Opening another business had always been impossible.
Her chest tightened.
"How much?" Christy asked quietly. "And the interest?"
Her mother shook her head. "It's outrageous. Your father wanted it kept secret."
"Mom," Christy said, stepping closer. "Am I not part of this family?"
Her voice trembled.
After a long pause, her mother spoke.
"Fifty thousand dollars."
Christy's eyes widened.
"F-Fifty thousand…?" Her body trembled. Breathing suddenly felt difficult. "That's a lot of money. How… how many days are they giving us?"
Her voice dropped.
"Our restaurant barely makes two thousand a week on good days."
"That's what your father borrowed," her mother said softly.
Christy's eyes shot up.
"And the interest?" she whispered.
Her mother swallowed. "One hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
The world stopped.
"What… what did you just say?"
Her eyes burned red as she fought the urge to scream. "We should report this to the police! We can't afford this, not in this life or the next!"
Her grandmother wrapped her arms around her. "We were scared of your reaction."
"I can't calm down!" Christy shook her head violently. "We need to act, before they come back."
"They threatened your father," her mother cried. "He signed the documents. If this goes to court, we lose. They said they'd take him… take the house… the restaurant… everything. We're drowning, Christy."
Tears streamed down her face.
Christy's hands trembled as she pulled her mother into a chair, holding her tightly.
"Please don't cry," she whispered. "Everything will be fine."
She knew it was a lie.
One hundred and fifty thousand dollars echoed endlessly in her mind.
Then footsteps.
They all turned.
Her father stood there, drained, dejected, looking like a man who had lost his way.
Christy rushed to him, but he gently stopped her, pulling her into his arms instead.
"It's okay, princess," he murmured. "I'll handle it. I borrowed it, I'll pay it back."
"But how?" Christy asked, tears spilling over.
"You don't need to worry," he said, forcing a smile. "Just focus on yourself. Let me guess… you made my favourite stew."
She nodded. "I did. At the restaurant."
She could see it, the worry he tried so hard to hide.
"Then let's eat," he said.
They sat together at the table.
They ate.
But none of them tasted a thing.
And somewhere outside those walls, time was ticking, counting down the days before everything they loved would be taken away.