“How much longer?”
She glanced at me.
“A while.”
I straightened several boxes that were already perfectly straight.
“Well. Good for you.”
Emily narrowed her eyes.
“What?”
“What?”
“You did the voice.”
“I don’t have a voice.”
“Yes, you do. The one where ‘good for you’ actually means, ‘How dare this information personally attack me?’”
I sighed.
“I just miss you. I’m proud of everything you’ve built here. But sometimes I’m allowed to be sad for myself too.”
Her expression softened.
“I miss you too, Mom.”
That should have been enough.
Somehow, for years, I had taken those three words and turned them into an imaginary plane ticket home.
The following evening, Emily was delayed at work.
Joon’s mother wasn’t feeling well, so only Joon and Young-ho came over for dinner.
I had met Young-ho at the wedding and once afterward.
He was reserved, formal, but always polite with me.
I went into the kitchen to prepare appetizers while he and Joon talked at the dining table.
At first, I ignored them.
Then they switched to Korean.
Then I heard Emily’s name.
Young-ho said, “If Emily or Stella ever finds out how much fear influenced the beginning of this marriage, those job interviews will be the smallest thing you’ll have to explain.”
Joon hissed, “They aren’t going to hear anything from you.”
“You can’t hide relocation plans forever.”
“I’ll tell Emily if something real happens.”
My heart began pounding.
I backed away from the kitchen.
Then I slipped outside wearing house slippers and called Emily.
No answer.
So I sent one message.
**Call me when you’re alone. Please.**
I stood outside in the cold wondering whether telling her what I had heard would protect my daughter or simply explode a marriage I didn’t fully understand.
Less than an hour later, the front door flew open.
“I got it!”
Emily rushed inside glowing with excitement.
Joon and I had been clearing the table.
Young-ho had gone out to buy a dessert Emily loved.
“The promotion,” she said. “I got it!”
I hugged her.
“I knew you would.”
“They want me leading the regional team.”
“That’s wonderful.”
Then she added,
“Four years.”
Over her shoulder, I saw Joon’s expression change.
Emily pulled back.
“Four years, maybe longer.”
Joon smiled.
But half a second too late.
“That’s incredible.”
I looked at him.
He knew exactly what four more years in Korea meant for the plans he had been making.
Later, while Emily was showering, I found Joon alone in the kitchen.
“Does she know?”
He looked up.
“Know what?”
“The interviews.”
His face changed.
Then he asked quietly,
“How much Korean do you understand?”
“Enough to know you’re making plans involving my daughter without telling her.”
He glanced toward the hallway.
“Keep your voice down, Stella.”
“I will when you answer me.”
I stepped closer.
“Did you marry Emily because she was American?”
His head snapped toward me.
