“What the ?” flies right out of my mouth before I can comprehend what’s going on. Minseok turns his head around in surprise, and my mom narrows her eyes at me, probably because she can’t say anything with the breathing aid all up against . My tuna sandwich falls unceremoniously to the floor.

She glares at me with a look that screams, “language, Bae Seolhwa!”

“Mom, you said you twisted your ankle—why are you on a breathing aid and why the hell are you here?” I send an accusatory glance at Minseok, walking closer to my mom to look at her face. When I look closer, I notice that there are a few dark spots on her clothing, and my stomach drops remembering what the receptionist had said about a fire near Jamsil happening today.

“I was wondering why you’d go Asan Medical Center when you live all the way in Seodaemun-gu—I—explain,” I tap my foot onto the floor impatiently, sending an annoyed look at Minseok. It’s not that I’m upset at him for being here—I’m upset that he’d arrived here before me and seems to have an idea of what actually happened to my mom instead of me, her only flesh and blood. Especially when he’s the last person I want to see right now.

“Your mom had been in your aunt’s place in Jamsil when a fire broke out in the neighboring apartment building and it kicked off a mild asthma attack. She had her inhaler and everything, though—so don’t worry about that. I’d been the first person to actually answer her call, so I drove here as soon as I can. She didn’t want to tell you because she was worried that you’d panic. I talked to the doctor already,” Minseok explains calmly, which annoys me even more at how he’s more informed about the whole situation instead of me.

“Did you tell dad yet?” I look at my mom sharply, ignoring Minseok pointedly. I don’t miss the disappointed look Minseok has on his face at my coldness. My mom has the audacity to purse her lips at me in annoyance before taking off her breathing aid slowly.

“Of course not, you know how your dad gets,” my mom drawls, looking at me slowly, “and I’m fine, so you can go back to work and stop harassing my lovely Minseok with your glares. He’s the first person who answered my call, okay, and he actually left work to drive me to the hospital.”

“I wasn’t glaring at him! And why is he your Minseok? He’s nobody’s Minseok,” I defend myself, huffing as I fold my arms under my chest.

“Sure,” my mom replies innocently, ignoring my question. I click my tongue, annoyed, but reaches out to grab for her hand anyway. Her hand feels warm in mind, and I let out a sigh in relief.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” I ask, assessing my mom’s frail body. There are only a few stains of dirt here and there that probably had made its way onto my mom’s clothing when she was running around in panic. Other than that, she looks perfectly fine. Had it been any other day, I’d ditch work and stay with her for the rest of the day—but my schedule is packed for the rest of the week with Minhwa’s upcoming wedding and everything else, so I can’t afford to push anything back.

“I will, sweetie. I’m fifty-one, not sixty. I’m not going to die just because of an asthma attack.”

“Don’t say that,” my voice cracks against my will, and I find my eyes tearing up with tears that came from nowhere, “I already feel bad enough that I didn’t answer your call because I was on a meeting, and I can’t stay here for the rest of the day because I have a bunch of stupid meetings waiting for me. Sorry I haven’t been answering your calls, mom, I just—”

“Hey, it’s fine, you sap,” my mom squeezes my hand gently. People love to tell me just how different I am from my mom—how young my mom acts with her endless energy compared to my boring , how it’s so interesting to have a conversation with her because even when she goes on and on, it’s about the most exciting things—but right now, all I see is how old she is, how tired her eyes look despite the huge grin she’s sporting. The smile lines around her eyes don’t look so endearing right now.

I sniff, blinking away the embarrassing tears before it can roll down my cheeks. I don’t know why I’m being so emotional right now.

“Fifty-one is old, mom, I’m turning twenty-seven this year and you’re turning fifty-two. Stop visiting aunt Yoon, you don’t even have a car—tell her to drive to your place instead.”

“Okay, mom,” my mom rolls her eyes at me. “Anything else you want to nag me about? Because if you don’t, you can put whatever food you bought for me on my table for me to eat after I check out later. You should go, you know, I’m totally fine now that you’re here. Treat Minseok lunch for me, why don’t you? Seeing that you also wasted a perfectly good tuna sub.”

My mom doesn’t leave me any space to argue because she straps her breathing aid back onto her face, turning to her side and closing her eyes as if I’m going to buy her sleeping act. I groan.

“I can’t believe I drove all the way here just to be sent back to work again. Fine. I’m leaving now, okay? Call me if you need help with anything else,” I pick up my discarded tuna sub dejectedly, stepping out of the curtain and back into the crowded ER room. Minseok follows me wordlessly.

“Hey, sorry that I haven’t been answering your calls, I was busy,” I say quickly as I walk towards the nearest trashcan to throw my sad tuna sub away. “And I can’t have lunch with you today, sorry—I have a meeting with a client right after this. I’ll text you when I’m free?”

Minseok grabs my wrist, halting me to an abrupt stop, forcing me to turn and face him.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks quietly, eyes searching for mine. My heart skips a beat.

“No,” I clear my throat, “what makes you think that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because you’ve been ignoring me for a few days and look like you want to murder me when we finally meet?” it’s the first time in a long time I’m hearing Minseok answer my question sarcastically. I raise my eyebrows at the tone of his voice.

“Look, I don’t know what I did wrong but it’s obvious that you’re upset at me for something,” Minseok continues, hand still tightly wrapped around my wrist, “I don’t like it when we don’t talk to each other. I’ll drive you to work and you can tell me what I did on our way there, hm?”

I push his hand away from mine gently, feeling more and more guilty with every single second that passes by. Minseok is staring at me with a look of hopefulness and hurt mixed altogether.

“I brought my own car here, and I’m not mad at you, Minseok,” I tell him honestly, looking away. It’s true that I’m not mad at him—I’m mad at myself for everything that has happened lately. I walk away before he gets the chance to argue with my answer, heading towards the receptionist to take care of my mom’s bill.

“I took care of the bill already,” he says quietly when we reach the table. I whip my head around so quick that it surprises him, anger flaring through my body in an instant. The guilt inside of me vanishes almost immediately.

“Why would you do that?” I ask him, furious. “You’re not her son, Minseok, she’s not your responsibility!”

My outburst earns a couple of looks from the nurses and patients sitting on the waiting room. Minseok guides me out of the ER gently, his right hand ghosting on top of the skin on my shoulder as he pushes me out the door.

“I know, I know—I just did it without thinking. But now that it’s done why don’t you just think of it as a treat for your mom from me, I—”

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