Miso

Saturday evening. A warm summer rain was washing over Seoul. Cafe signs glowed in the dark, their reflections shimmering across the wet asphalt.

Miso stood under the awning of a small shop, holding a phone in one hand and two paper bags from a bakery in the other. She wore a black dress, a light coat, and heels. She looked as if she were heading to a business meeting rather than a casual family evening.

She glanced at her phone screen and sighed in frustration.

— Eight years without seeing each other, and now I have to come up with ways to spend time with my own nephew all by myself. Unbelievable.

Miso tucked her phone into her handbag and looked down at the bags. One contained a chocolate cake from the very bakery she remembered from back when they used to see each other much more often.

— Fine. If he doesn't appreciate my efforts, I'll just eat it all myself.

She let out a small smirk at her own words, but the smile quickly faded. Miso missed the old days, though she would never admit it out loud. For years, work, meetings, and endless errands had served as convenient excuses to put family matters on the back burner.

Finally, she headed toward the familiar address. Reaching the door, Miso smoothed her hair, lifted the bags, and pressed the doorbell.

— It's me. Open up before this cake turns into chocolate soup.

She crossed her free arm over her chest, looking at the door with her usual impatient expression.

— And I'm warning you right now: I'm not letting you go anywhere tonight. We're spending time together—dinner and conversation. You can consider this an official order from your favorite auntie.