I woke up to the smell of something burning.

Flinging my covers off, I burst out of my door and took the stairs two or three at a time before I skidded to a sudden stop.

“Dad?” I blinked.

My father looked up from the burnt mess in the skillet he had on the stove and smiled sheepishly. “Did I wake you up?”

“Well, you did nearly give me a heart attack. I thought the house was burning down.” I went over and gave him a hug, grimacing when his stubble scraped my temple. “Remember to shave if you’re going for work today. Are you?”

“Yeah, but I’ll drop by the hospital to visit your mother for awhile.”

“When did you get back in?” I filled a glass of water, sipping as he gave up on making breakfast and emptied the skillet into the rubbish bin. I put the glass down and tapped his arm. “Here, let me. How about kimchi fried rice?”

“Sounds good. Anything's better than burnt eggs.” He grinned boyishly. "I was planning on surprising you, actually."

"Didn't do a very good job," I laughed under my breath, pulling out the things I needed. My father watched me light the burner and add oil to a new pan before he answered my earlier question.

“I think I reached about….three in the morning? My flight was delayed, otherwise I would have gotten home earlier. I wanted to get back in time to have dinner with you before you start school, but I guess I have to settle for breakfast instead." He paused. "It is the first day of school, right?”

“Yeah.” I made the rice as a hazy memory of watching my mother stand in this very kitchen, cooking the very same dish, my father watching her with soft eyes, flitted through my mind briefly. I pushed it aside; it was easier to think about things like these later. I glanced at the clock hanging next to the refrigerator. “Well, we have enough time for breakfast together before I have to leave for school.”

“Is Jongin going on the bus with you today?”

“Doesn’t he always?” I stirred. “Sehun came back from China, by the way.”

“Sehun?” My father frowned. “Oh Sehun?”

“I’m going to finish the whole jar, so could you buy more kimchi on the way home from work?” I emptied the container of kimchi into the pan, listening to the sizzle fill the kitchen. “Yeah, Oh Sehun. He’s back for good.”

“Hmm.” My father leaned against the counter. 

“You couldn’t quite remember who for a moment, I bet,” I said wryly.

My father laughed sheepishly. “Nah, it just took a while to remember since it's been so long since I last saw him." His face brightened as he remembered. "He used to come over to our house almost every other day with Jongin when you were younger for years.”

“Yeah” was all I said as I finished cooking. I wondered if I was really the only one who was stuck in the past, still hanging on to my memories of how Sehun was back in the day when everyone else, even Sehun himself, seemed to have moved on long ago. I wondered about domesticity like this with someone I loved next time, someone I may marry and live with for the rest of my life. I wondered about being eighteen and in love for years already and why kimchi fried rice was the one recipe that always seemed to remind me of my childhood, sitting on the counter and swinging my legs as a kid while my mother cooked. “Dad, can you get some bowls please? The smaller ones.”

“Where?” My father looked around, a little lost. He wasn’t home much, and even when he was, I did almost all the cooking.

“There,” I pointed. He reached up to get bowls from a cabinet. “Thanks.”

“Do you want me to drop you off at school later?”

“No, thanks.” I turned off the heat on the stove, and started to set the table. “We need some groceries though—I have a list already—so do you think you could buy the stuff with the kimchi when you get off work?”

“I don’t think I’ll be back in time with the groceries for dinner. Do you think you could go after school or would it be too much to carry on the bus?”

“Well.” I sat down to eat, and he joined me with spoons from a drawer. “I suppose I could ask Jongin for help.”

“That would be good.” He filled two bowls. "He's a nice kid, isn't he?"

"What, you just realized?" I laughed. "He's been friends with me for how many years now?" 

"Well, I wasn't around for a good part of them," my dad said apologetically. 

I shrugged, trying to be casual, as I sat. "You have to do what you have to do." 

He only smiled at me gratefully for that. 

We ate in silence for a few minutes before my dad continued with the thread of conversation. “He’s a nice guy, Jongin."

"I know, dad."

His eyes twinkled. "Your mom used to say he would make a good husband for someone in the future even when you two were kids.”

“Three,” I corrected him as I chewed. He frowned, puzzled. “It was always the three of us," I explained, feeling a little silly as I did so. "Jongin, Sehun and me.”

My father paused with a spoon halfway to his mouth. “Yeah, but your mom liked Jongin the best.”

“Did you?”

He shrugged, grinning. He was a handsome man, my father, and even though now there were grey streaks in his hair and wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, when he smiled I could see the man my mother had fallen in love with. I wondered if my children would think that way about their father years down the road as they ate kimchi fried rice together, and wondered if I would be there at the table or absent like my mother. “I like whoever treats my princess the best.” 

I shot him a look before pretending to gag, and we started to laugh.

The sun was up, so light was streaming through the white Egyptian cotton curtains my mom had picked out on a shopping trip when I was twelve, burning hot on my bare legs, crossed at the ankles. I stood up to draw the curtains shut and made a mental note to wash them soon. I filled another cup of water. The kimchi fried rice was a little too buttery. 

“Do you want me to leave out dinner for you?” I always asked this; it was routine in the mornings when he was home.

“It’s alright." My dad frowned, the corners of his mouth turning down. "I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I sat down again, trying not to let my disappointment show. I knew he would have been able to retire in a few years or at least, not need to work as hard as he did now if it wasn’t for my mother’s hospital bills and my college fund. We weren’t rich, but we were well off and could live comfortably because of him, and I knew it was hard on him too, not being able to even have a proper dinner with me and always having to leave me with an empty house. My mother being unwell didn't help either, but he had never complained. The least I could do was make it easier for him.

“Was it lonely at home by yourself?”

I didn’t know why he asked. I wondered if this was his own masochistic way of punishing himself for his absence, needing to feel reassured that he was doing the right thing. 

“No,” I lied, of course, toying with my spoon. I didn’t like being alone. I wasn’t always—Jongin and my other friends filled most of my days—but going to bed with no one else in the house occasionally made me feel a little empty. “Jongin’s mom cooked for me often, and I ate at their house a lot.”

He smiled, seeming relieved. “They’re nice people, aren’t they?”

“They are,” I agreed. "That's why Jongin turned out such a nice kid."

We ate.

I found them where we always sat for lunch, at the shadiest table in the courtyard, sheltered by the large tree that presided over what seemed like half of the school ground with solemn grandiosity. The table was the largest in the courtyard, large enough for our group of friends. It was far away enough from all the other tables that we wouldn’t be bothered by the average lunchtime ruckus, but not too isolated that no one wouldn’t be able to admire Soojung and Jinri’s beauty, or hear Seulgi and Seungwan shrieking in laughter over some stupid prank they had pulled on an uns