Arriving at the apartment, hefting in my things, my aunt had immediately ushered me into what would be my room for the next year.

“Take your time unpacking, I’m just finishing up dinner,” she said, patting my head affectionately as she left. “Let me know if you need anything, hm?”

“Thank you,” I said with a smile. “Can I help you—”

“No, no. You must be exhausted from the flight. Focus on unpacking.” My aunt sent me a warning frown, before grinning and leaving me to my devices.

I shook my head, chuckling. As I began emptying my luggage onto the floor, I couldn’t help but examine the room. It was a nice, medium-sized space with walls painted a pale blue; with a dark grey carpet taking up most of the floor. Pushed into one corner, right next to the window, was a twin-sized bed with a patterned duvet. The furniture was all a sleek black, with the nightstand pressed snugly against the bed, and followed by a wide shelf displaying a range of CDs and books. Across the room was a study area with a spacious desk and lamp, with an office chair tucked neatly in.

Finding the closet on the same wall of the entrance, I began humming as I hung up some of my clothes. Engrossed in my work, I almost missed my aunt calling for me as I finished packing up the last of my belongings.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were asleep,” my aunt admonished as she came to the door, looking around. She nodded in approval. “But it’s clear you’ve been productive.”

“Sorry, I just finished packing,” I said with a laugh, gesturing around. “As you can see.”

“Hmm.” She glanced at the shelf curiously, raising a brow at one of the rows I’d taken up. “Are those yours? The camera gear? You’re a photographer?”

“Hmm,” I mimicked, not choosing to say anything else. I grinned, instead procuring a bag. “These are for you, by the way. It’s a thank-you gift for taking me in.”

My aunt made a noise of disagreement, but nonetheless took the bag. “Of course, that sister of mine would…” She shook her head, smiling. “You guys didn’t have to. Thank you—what are these?”

“Vitamins, nuts, a lot of health foods from Canada,” I rattled off, thinking. “Mom and dad mentioned that these are popular gifts from abroad—”

Pulling me into a hug, my aunt laughed at me. “No need to explain, I love them. Thank you. Now, why don’t you fill me in on this photography business—yes, don’t think I didn’t see you trying to change the subject—and everything else that’s been going on over dinner?”

“Whoops.” I shot her a cheeky grin.

She smacked my arm jokingly. “Aish, kids these days.”

*

Dinner was a grand feast.

Auntie had gone all-out with her cooking, with a bowl of piping hot red rice to accompany the multiple banchan and Busan specialty dishes she’d prepared. My mouth watered at the smells, unable to believe that this was all for two.

“Isn’t this too much for the two of us?”

My aunt looked at me with a sharp tut. “Of course not. You’re my growing niece—you’re going to eat well tonight, and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” With a motion, she handed me another bowl of steaming kimchi jjigae.

“Right,” I said, beginning to dig in.

My aunt, just as excellent as a cook as she was, was also a fantastic conversationalist. Words flowed freely between bites of food, and I felt myself instantly at ease around her, the both of us laughing as we bantered.

“Your cousin, he—” She paused, choking on laughter. “So, being the little fashionista he was, joined the low-pants bandwagon. I warned him to not let his pants hang that low, but of course, he responded—Eomma, it’s current fashion—and what does he do as soon as he walks out the door?”

“Oh, no.” I could see where this was going, tears already leaking out as I continued giggling. “He tripped and fell?”

“Exactly,” she said with a snort. “Right as the neighbouring girl—his crush at the time—was exiting her door. His face went so red, you wouldn’t believe it, and you know what she said?”

“What?”

“‘White boxers are manly,’ very nicely, before she all but ran away from the scene!”

“Oh dear Christ,” I cried, smacking the table as I couldn’t hold back my open laughter.

I shared stories of my own to her, of the time I’d walked straight into a telephone pole while talking to friends and knocked a tooth back, or of the time my mom had mistakenly given me a shot of very potent plum soju instead of cough syrup and sent me to school red-faced and drunk. By the end of it, my stomach hurt from not only eating so much food, but laughing so much, and I could tell my aunt was the same.

“So, the room I’m staying in right