He was twelve when they first met.

Junhoe didn't know that much about girls. Girls were an uncharted territory--girls were something beyond comprehension to him, just images of them flocking together at school and an earsplitting harmony of high-pitched giggles in class. Junhoe's life was built of school, his home, his small family of four, sports, games--nothing else. And he was happy with it. His mother was the only thing he knew about girls and he loved her, it was enough for him.
But just like every other thing in life, it changed.

It was nothing serious, really--Junhoe woke up on a peaceful Saturday to his mother cooking a few things. More than she usually did.
"What's this for?" Junhoe frowned.
"Oh, nothing," his mother answered with arms occupied by pans and plates, "one of my friends moved here with her family and I thought it'd be nice to bring them some food. They're opening a flower shop, so I guess they'll be busy setting up the shop." His mother paused and put a bowl in his hands. "I'm going to need your help."
So he went. He walked by his mother's side with arms full of food two blocks down the road--he didn't expect it to be so close, but they only had to walk a little and he could see the small flower shop.
He wondered what kind of family they might be.