Youngbae knocked politely on his parent’s bedroom door before letting himself in.  Not that it would’ve mattered in the slightest.  Both women were too engrossed in their own world to take note of his meager presence.

He felt transported back in time.

There, in the middle of the master bedroom, stood Amina clad in traditional petticoats.  She looked like a princess that belonged to some faraway dynasty.  Both of her arms were regally spread open and her hair was perfectly coiffed in a low bun.  Her posture remained impeccably straight while his mother adjusted the chima on her small frame.  When it was high enough to her liking, Mrs. Dong expertly tied the fuchsia colored wrap skirt across Amina’s bone and fluffed the voluminous material away.  The women began to ooh and awe over the grandeur of the chima.  It billowed out like a balloon – hiding all signs of ample chest and baby bump.

He frowned.

“Umma,” Youngbae complained with a slight whine in his voice.  “Does she really have to wear that?”  His small eyes lit with slight irritation.  “No one will be wearing a hanbok except for the children.”

Amina peeked at her husband’s disgruntled face and smiled.

“Hush,” Youngbae’s mother chided and grabbed the jeogori off the armoire.  The apple green coat was lightweight and made of the finest silk.  “Let us have our fun.”  She assisted Amina into the crop jacket, all while mumbling on about how she wished she had daughters instead of sons.

Bemused, Youngbae flopped onto his parents’ bed and refrained from saying another word as the fitting continued.  He watched the pair gossip over the intricate gold thread details in the bodice and long sleeves of the coat.  They worried like clucking hens when the burgundy trim edge lining on the jacket gaped in the front and wouldn’t properly close.  Youngbae bit back a grin and rolled onto his back.  He folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.

“Maybe I should tape them down.”

He furrowed his brows.

“Nonsense!  The jeogori just needs to be let out a little.  If not, I have another to spare.”

“It’s all these hormones.  Imagine when my milk comes in.”

A smug smile played about Youngbae’s lips.

“It’s not your fault.  You’re expecting.  It’s natural.  If anyone is to blame, it would be the father.”

The smile wiped off his face.

“Geuraeyo?”

“Neh, in my many odd years of marriage – trust me.  The man is always to blame.”

“Ahh, neh.  I’m beginning to see that.”

They snickered quietly to themselves.

“Perhaps we should get Young-ah to wear a hanbok too.”

“What color should we make him wear?”

“For a simple peasant like me?” Youngbae retorted sarcastically to thin air.  “Let me wear white.”  Upon that smart remark, they threw the jacket at his direction.  It landed on his face, shielding his eyes and muffling his voice.  He sputtered and swiped at the material with one hand.

Amina plopped down on the bed next to Youngbae, taking the jacket out of his hands.  She met the teasing light in his eyes and grinned.

“You really want to wear that?”  Youngbae asked.

Amina looked down and plucked at the folds of her chima.  It was such a pretty color – bright and vibrant.  She smiled.  “It makes your umma happy.  So, neh,” she bobbed her head once.  “I will wear it.”

His brows creased with concern.  “But does it make you happy?”

She delicately shrugged a shoulder and watched as her mother-in-law returned from the closet with a new jacket to try on.  “I’m used to wearing a new hanbok every Chuseok.  It doesn’t bother me.”  Amina stood up and accepted the buttercup and navy trimmed jacket graciously from his mother’s hands.

That wasn’t the question I asked, Youngbae thought to himself.  He let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes.

“We’re glad to have you with us for Chuseok.”

Amina politely smiled and inclined her head towards the head of the table where Youngbae’s father sat.

“Neh,” Hyeonbae agreed.  “If you weren’t here, I’m sure umma would’ve made Youngbae or me try on all those hanbok outfits she ordered this year.”

Mrs. Dong flushed.

Youngbae chuckled.

“Admit it, umma,” Hyeonbae drawled, silently thankful he was sitting outside of his mother’s reach.  “You couldn’t wait for this day to arrive.”

“My friend is a designer,” Mrs. Dong quickly began to explain to Amina.

“Oh,” Hyeonbae’s brows perked up.  “So we have a fashionista in our midst now?”

Everyone turned to stare at the lady of the house – taking in her plain black t-shirt and elastic waistband ankle-length trousers.  With her boyish short haircut and unadorned face, she was drab – even by ajumma standards.  She jerked her chin arrogantly at Youngbae, her voice broking no argument. “Young-ah!”

Without pause, Youngbae grabbed the nearest serving spoon and smacked his brother on the arm.

Hyeonbae scowled and rubbed his arm, his dark eyes narrowed accusingly across the table, while the younger man flat out grinned and set the spoon neatly back in its place.  Youngbae turned and met Amina’s amused gaze.  “Now you see why I’m the favorite,” Youngbae boasted.

“There’s always tomorrow,” Hyeonbae emptily threatened.

The two brothers shared a grin.

Everyone resumed eating, the sound of plates and silverware clanking intermittently in-between chortling and guffaws.  Amina swung her head back and forth, trying to catch all the tidbits.  Sometimes there were two conversations going on at once – maybe three, if one counted Hyeonbae grumbling to himself.  She smiled when Youngbae’s mother waved her close – and smiled wider when the question she was being asked was about an insider’s tip on the baby’s gender.

“Uh…”  Contrite filled Amina’s brown eyes as she grinned whole-heartedly.  “I… I can’t say.”  The mother-to-be shook her head apologetically.

“Young-ah, have you been saving lately?”  His father’s voice echoed across the table.

The boys mentally groaned in unison.

Youngbae nodded obediently.  “Neh, abeoji.  I saved all my paychecks and have not splurged of late.”

“What’s the last item you bought?”

The young man glanced down at his body – bypassing the thick diamond encrusted gold chain necklace, his tailored Givenchy sleeveless shirt, and Saint Laurent distressed jeans.  Thank goodness the Rick Owens he brought along for this trip were a gift.  Shoes that expensive would be a bit hard to explain.  Youngbae his lips and smoothly confessed, “A Bonsai.”

Amina looked over.

“A Bonsai?” his father repeated, unconvinced.

“N-neh,” Youngbae coughed.  He turned towards his wife, silently pleading with his eyes for a little assistance.  “We bought it-”

“Last month,” she finished on cue.  Youngbae side winked at Amina, which caused her to stammer and blush from head to toe.  “W-we… umm, thought it would be good taegyo for me to learn something new and also beautify the home.  S-so we bought a Bonsai t-tree.”  From the corner of her eye, Amina could make out Youngbae biting his bottom lip to stifle a grin. 

The pinks of her cheeks deepened.

“Oh.”  Mr. Dong nodded approvingly and returned his attention towards his youngest son.  “Just make sure you keep saving.  Soon you will have three mouths to feed.”

“Neh,” Youngbae bowed his head, merriment filling his eyes.  He reached underneath the table and gently gave Amina’s hand a firm squeeze.

She squeezed his fingers in returned and held on.  They both smiled to themselves as they listened to his father give Hyeonbae the same lecture on finances.

“Young-ah, give your wife her hand back so she can eat,” Mrs. Dong chided.

The couple blushed and broke apart.

On and on it went.  No one was safe at dinner.  Although most of the questions were kept light and on the teasing side, there were moments that got a bit tense and subjects that some refused to delve into at the table.  Including Amina.

“How is your mother?”

Youngbae visibly tensed.

“S-she’s doing well,” Amina flatly replied, a stiff smile on her face.  “The last time I saw her, she seemed to be doing well.”  She felt her face grow numb and immediately shifted her eyes back down to her plate.  Quickly, Amina speared a piece of chicken and preoccupied herself with eating.

“And how will she be spending this Chuseok?” Youngbae’s father continued to ask, his expression one of pure curiosity.

Amina rubbed her cold lips together to bring back sensation.  “I think she’s spending the holiday with a close family friend.”  She gave another polite smile.  “It’s what my parents always did every year for Chuseok.”

Youngbae took in the strained lines around Amina’s eyes and mouth as she responded.  He felt himself grow defensive on the spot and wished his father would drop the subject.  His gaze swiftly went over Amina’s bent head and locked onto his mother’s eyes – sending a message loud and clear.

“Hyeonbae appa,” Mrs. Dong chided in Youngbae’s defense.  “You know very well that Amina does not speak to her mother.  More than likely whatever they have planned for Chuseok will the same as last year’s.” 

“It’s alright,” Amina acceded with a weak smile.  “It’s okay.  I only know of our family friend’s plans and that my mother was invited.  So I’m assuming she’ll be there.”  After another unconvincing, pained smile, Amina looked back down and continued eating in silence.

Palpable silence.

After a few seconds, Amina looked up and realized that she was the only one eating.  Everyone else was still staring at her.  Amina let out a self-conscious half-laugh and forcefully brightened her eyes as she glanced around the table.  “Maybe you’ll get to meet her next Chuseok.  After the baby arrives,” she added, pressing her lips into a thin smile.  “I’m sure things will be better by then.”

Mrs. Dong furrowed her sparse brows as she watched Amina eat.  On the surface, everything appeared calm.  But she couldn’t the glimpse of sadness she had seen in her daughter-in-law’s eyes away.  There was now a stiffness in the way Amina shoved food inside , a mechanical sampling o