Yuna scrolls on her laptop and clicks on a link titled “LOOKING FOR FEMALE HOUSEMATE,  ₩1,000,000 / MONTH”. She scrolls down the page when it opens, her eyes scanning through the address, some landmarks and some details: “2 bedrooms (1 is empty), 2 toilets, utility room, kitchen, living.”

“Piano in the living… Might be noisy as housemate is a clarinettist,” Yuna reads out the next two points in the list and laughs. She clicks through a few photos, satisfaction piling up within her. A piano would be really useful, and she does sound like a good housemate for a cellist to live with, Yuna thinks, and with that she decides on this home. Yuna closes the other four tabs in her browser and begins drafting a message.

She takes a good look at her message; every detail she believes is necessary is included: her age, her hometown and current location of residence, the fact that she is a cellist (who is although unemployed as such and has only found an odd job as a pianist for a ballet class), and when she would like to start moving in. With a last glance she smiles in content and sends the message out.

A reply comes immediately, much to Yuna’s surprise for it is already midnight. [Yes, you can move in at the start of the next month. If it’s convenient, you may like to drop by one of these Sundays? We could meet to settle this? You may text me at 010-647-0163.]

Yuna smiles and saves the number on her smartphone before closing her laptop. When the door opens she is startled, and her mother enters with a suspicious look in her eyes.

“What are you doing?” Yuna feels like she is in an interrogation room.

Yuna heaves a sigh. After months of consideration on her own, she should finally break the news, should she? Yuna wonders over how she should request for the permission to move out. Guilt tugs on her as she knows it is exactly more of reporting to her mother her plans rather than asking for her opinions.

“Umma,” she starts off carefully, “can I move to Seoul?”

“What?” the woman is, as Yuna has expected, astonished. Yuna had known that she would not receive a light response.

“You aren’t asking me, are you? You’ve already made up your mind, right?” her mother continues in her loud voice.

“Umma,” Yuna’s voice slightly cracks when she calls out, anxious, as her hands reach for her mother’s.

Her mother releases a sigh. They can hear Yuna’s uncle yelling at her aunt in the living room, the former probably on his second bottle of soju as he does every Friday night.

“Honestly speaking, even if you hadn’t asked, I’d ask you to move out. Move out of this house because a young, pretty woman like you shouldn’t be stuck living with troublesome old people like us. Or out of this neighbourhood or this district, to find more students after this last one has quit. Seoul is good, Yuna yah, I’m sorry you were stuck here for so long,” her mother speaks in a soft, tender voice, her hand gently Yuna’s.

Yuna’s eyes uncontrollably water at her mother’s words. “Umma,” she calls out again for the third time that night, with trembling lips.

Her mother turns to her and looks into her shaking brown orbs. “Don’t cry Yuna yah, you’ll look ugly like this,” she says as she brings a hand up to Yuna’s face, wiping the tears that are threatening to fall. “Move out, meet new people, meet someone nice. Live happily, make me happy,” she continues to say.

“Umma!” Yuna is almost weeping, “How can I leave you here? And halmeoni?”

“I will take care of halmeoni, don’t you worry,” her mother tenderly replies, “aigoo this obedient girl. Come back once in a while to see us, but don’t come back too often because you know in this house it’s just trouble.”

Yuna’s tears are flowing endlessly as she rubs her eyes and hides her face within her long black locks.

Tonight, in the small, dark room, Yuna is snuggled in her sheets beside her mother who is by now soundly asleep after another tiring day of work and tending to her ageing grandmother (as well as dealing with her problematic relatives). As usual, the light from her phone is lit upon her face, glaring at her as she tends to her notifications.

[This Sunday is good for me too! So I’ll see you the day after tomorrow, 11am?] she receives a reply from the clarinetist (as Yuna now mentally refers to as).

[Sure! See you!] Yuna sends her final message for the day and puts her phone away for the night. She sees her cello standing at the corner of the room, and gives it a good glance with her heart full of hope for her new life that is about to start.

Eunbi sighs as she enters her home after a tiring day. Her hand reaches for the switches by the entranceway as she slips herself out of her shoes. Her clarinet case is still slung onto her shoulder, as light of an orange hue dimly lights up the living room, while her phone in the pocket of her jeans rings.

“Yeoboseyo?” she answers without looking, flipping her hair to a side as she puts the phone to her ear. She strolls into her house and tries to put her belongings down at the table.

“Happy birthday, Eunbi!” she hears her mother’s joyous voice when she places her clarinet case down on the piano bench. It must be midnight already, she thinks.

“Oh!” she gasps, “Thank you, umma!”

Her mother’s laughter makes her heart squeeze tonight. “Have you just gotten home?” she is then asked.

“Yeah,” Eunbi gives a simple answer, walking into the kitchen to get herself some water.

“And it’s so late at night,” her mother’s nagging somehow makes Eunbi want to burst into tears just as she is taking a sip of water.

“Oh, yeah, then why are you calling?” Eunbi says and bites on the mug that her fingers are tensely gripping onto.

“To wish you happy birthday, of course!” her mother’s statement, however obvious, still makes her lips crack into a small smile.

“You could’ve just called in the morning,” Eunbi whines, “appa would do that.”

“Then I’ll let appa do that, I’m calling midnight! The first minute you turn twenty-eight!” she hears her mother’s voice to be as loud as usual.

“Aish umma! Do you really have to remind me of my age!” Eunbi whines yet again. She is by now seated on the couch, kicking her legs animatedly as she exclaims into the phone.

“Twenty-eight is quite a number! You should be getting married already! Look at your housemate, she’s still staying in a shared house till thirty-five, I thought she was never going to get married, but it’s lucky she did in the end,” her mother continues to ramble.

“Umma! Don’t talk about people like that!” Eunbi chides her mother.

“Whatever, it wasn’t like you two were close either,” her mother dismisses her statement simply.

Eunbi rolls her eyes. “It’s late,” she fakes a yawn, “go to sleep, umma. I need to sleep too.”

“Right, are you still alone in that house? You should’ve come back,” as usual, her mother does not listen to her. (Though Eunbi knows that it’s not like she listens well to her mother either.)

“Umma, you know how busy I am,” Eunbi gets up, deciding to end their conversation and start washing up.

“Arasseo,” her mother finally decides to let her off, “stay healthy, Eunbi yah, the rainy season might be here soon, bring an umbrella around,” not ending without more nagging.

Eunbi nods her head and listens obediently for the first time that night (though she knows she’s going to forget to put her umbrella into her bag anyway), her heart aching at every word in her mother’s nagging.

“I know,” Eunbi whispers weakly into the phone. “I’m going to wash up, umma,” she says again with more clarity, “good night.”

Before going to bed, Eunbi turns on her laptop to recharge while watching a web drama. A notification appears in her mail that is connected to a site where she has put up a posting for a new housemate. Eunbi checks on it on her phone as the web drama plays.

After a few episodes and confirmation of a meeting the next day (for it is past midnight) Eunbi decides that it is time to turn in. Heading to the kitchen for some water, she strolls past the refrigerator before backtracking her steps at the reminder of a cupcake she has bought for herself on a whim two days ago upon passing by a bakery. Eunbi opens the refrigerator doors and serves herself the cupcake with a single candle on top.

In the dim candlelight of a flickering flame, Eunbi blinks with her watery eyes and her hands tightly clasped together. “Happy birthday Hwang Eunbi,” she softly says to herself, “Next year, I won’t be alone on my birthday,” her eyes twinkle a little when her lips spread into a smile, “Just you wait.”

a/n: heol im finally really releasing this fic omg im being sentimental bc this fic is rly impt to me :") and after writing it for so long :") anw first chap here and as you can see asian moms being asian moms HAHA korean moms to be specific, such tsundere and warm nagging asdfghjkl but i invested a bit of emotions into this chapter to bring out their characterisations as well as their backgrounds tho more will def come along the way! i hope you are liking it so far do leave me a few comments tyvm i love you all <3 hehe