“You really should visit your poor mother more often.”

“We’ve been working on our next comeback. The pressure to do well is high,” he explained apologetically, voice low and somber.

I sighed at the expected response, shaking my head—not that he could see through the phone call. “Mom understands. Don’t let this old woman’s complaints get to you, I know you’re stressed. I just miss my little boy.”

“It’s okay, you’ve finally got a daughter to replace me with instead,” my son joked. “Your little boy’s finally grown up a little.”

I cracked a fond smile. My sweet, sweet son—always trying to make his mother laugh, easing my worries over him.

“Don’t say that. You know I love you.”

“I know, mom. I love you, too.” I could hear his voice hitch slightly, making me frown briefly, before I tutted.

“What happened to my baby being all grown up?” I teased. “In my eyes, you’ll always be my baby boy. I’ve always been proud of you, my wonderful child. So don’t let the pressure get to you, use it to fuel your music.”

There was a pause to the conversation, a stuttering deep breath being taken on the other side of the phone. I glanced out into the light-speckled night view of Busan. Youngah was constantly admiring the cityscape on the balcony, that silly girl. I could hear her light snores from my own room, chuckling inaudibly.

I loved them.

Of course, my son is and always will be my only child, and my baby boy. Bu