Chapter 61: A Warm Meal, A Warmer Night

The dining table was filled with the scent of sizzling bulgogi, the rich, fermented aroma of doenjang-jjigae bubbling in a clay pot, the golden sheen of rolled omelettes neatly sliced into spirals, and a stack of kimchi jeon still steaming. A faint hiss echoed from the kitchen as Joon-ho moved back and forth with smooth, practiced rhythm, plating each dish with a calm precision. Harin hovered beside him, passing napkins, placing bowls, and tossing in playful remarks every now and then as she garnished the food with chopped scallions and sesame seeds. Coach Min leaned back on the couch with a curious expression, watching the way they worked together. When the final dish was placed before her, she raised a brow and crossed her arms. "Not bad," she said, nodding with approval. "You cook like someone’s husband already." "Occupational hazard," Joon-ho replied with a faint smile. "Cooking calms me. Almost like therapy." Harin chuckled as she poured cool water into their glasses. "It’s also to save our lives from Ji-hye’s cooking experiments." Ji-hye’s head snapped up. "Hey—!" Coach Min didn’t even look up. "You almost burned down my kitchen last time. Stir-frying doesn’t mean setting the pan on fire." "It was one time," Ji-hye said with an exaggerated pout, crossing her arms like a scolded child. Coach Min waved a chopstick in her direction. "One time too many. Just order takeout next time. There’s no shame in delivery." Harin snickered behind her hand as Ji-hye sulked, but the mood around the table was light, familiar. The earlier tension had lifted, replaced by the comforting atmosphere that only a hot meal could provide. They dug into the food, chopsticks clinking against ceramic, the steam rising in gentle curls. Ji-hye reached for the bulgogi first, placing a few tender slices onto her rice, then taking a bite with a blissful hum. "This is amazing," she murmured between chews. Joon-ho looked over. "Eat as much as you want. I made enough for an army." Coach Min took a bite of the doenjang-jjigae and nodded. "This isn’t restaurant-grade. It’s better. You cook with care." "I cook for people I care about," he said simply, his eyes flicking toward Ji-hye, then to Harin. Ji-hye blushed slightly, focusing on slicing her kimchi jeon into smaller pieces. As the meal went on, conversation turned to training updates and the upcoming schedule. Ji-hye leaned forward, voice animated as she described new drills Coach Min had introduced, and how her reaction time and footwork had improved. The Olympic qualifiers loomed on the horizon, but instead of dread, she spoke with something like excitement. "We’ve been doing a lot of positional rotation drills," she said, picking at her rice. "Coach Kim is really pushing our back-row defense too. It’s tiring, but I can feel it working." "Your timing’s sharper," Coach Min agreed. "You’re covering more space without overextending." Harin leaned on her elbow, listening with half-lidded curiosity. "That’s sexy in a totally athletic way." Ji-hye rolled her eyes, but smiled. "Thanks... I think." As Ji-hye talked, Coach Min kept glancing at her daughter—taking in the subtle changes. The way her posture had relaxed, how the stress no longer weighed so heavily in her eyes. How easily she laughed. The kind of ease that didn’t come from training sessions or medals—but from something—or someone—who made her feel safe. Cherished. Even as she poked bulgogi onto her rice, Coach Min was thinking back to the last few months. The slump, the doubts. How close Ji-hye had come to burnout. And now... this version of her felt like a girl reborn. No pressure in her shoulders. No exhaustion buried under her smile. Maybe Joon-ho had something to do with that. Probably everything to do with that. She wasn’t ready to say it aloud—but the food, the laughter, the girl across the table smiling like she hadn’t in years... it made her stomach soften. Just a little. After the last bites were had and plates pushed aside, Harin appeared with a mischievous glint in her eye and a bottle of soju. "Now this," she declared, "is the proper way to end a meal." Coach Min blinked. "You drink?" "With you? Definitely," Harin grinned. Glasses were filled. The soju flowed freely. The warmth of the meal melted into a warm buzz under the amber kitchen lights. Joon-ho excused himself to clean up the dishes, stacking plates with quiet efficiency while the women stayed behind. As another round poured, Coach Min swirled the glass between her fingers. "So," she muttered, her tongue loosened by alcohol. "Multiple women, huh?" Harin didn’t miss a beat. "He’s got a type: smart, beautiful, high-functioning women who need someone calm to lean on." "And Madam Seo?" Coach Min added with a squint. Harin tilted her head thoughtfully. "Even she’s not immune. It’s his charm. He makes you feel..." Her voice softened slightly. "Safe. Like someone who won’t leave no matter what." Ji-hye was already tipsy, her cheeks flushed and eyes glossy. She nodded slowly. "Mmhmm... feels really safe in his hug..." Coach Min groaned and reached over to tug her daughter’s ear. "You’re still an athlete! Don’t get carried away with romance when you should be focusing!" "Ow—ow! Okay, okay!" Ji-hye giggled, swaying slightly in her seat. After the last bites were had and plates pushed aside, Harin reappeared with a mischievous glint in her eye, holding up a green bottle like a prize catch. "Now this," she announced grandly, "is the proper way to end a meal." Coach Min raised an eyebrow as Harin placed the bottle on the table. "You drink?" Harin gave her a playful shrug and a toothy grin. "With you? Definitely. Besides, what better way to bond than over a little liquid courage?" "Great," Coach Min muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched upward. Harin cracked open the soju bottle with a practiced flick of her wrist and began pouring, glass by glass. The clear liquid caught the kitchen lights, twinkling like mischief itself. The air was already warm from the meal, but now it softened into something looser—edges blurring, laughter rising easier, breaths drawn slower. "Cheers," Harin said, raising her glass. "To unexpected company and meals that don’t end in fire." Ji-hye laughed, the sound light and a little too loud. "Yah..." They clinked glasses, the quiet tok ringing out like a shared secret. Joon-ho excused himself to clean up the table, collecting dishes and bowls with silent efficiency. The soft sounds of running water and ceramic clinks formed the background to the rising tempo of alcohol-fueled conversation. As Harin poured the second round, Coach Min swirled the glass in her hand before eyeing Harin sideways. "So," she muttered, her tongue clearly loosened by the liquor. "Multiple women, huh?" Harin didn’t even flinch. "He’s got a type," she said breezily. "Smart, beautiful, high-functioning women with a little chaos in their lives. Women who need someone calm to lean on—someone who doesn’t flinch when things get messy." Coach Min made a skeptical sound. "And Madam Seo?" Harin tilted her head, her tone turning fond, almost knowing. "Even Madam Seo’s not immune. It’s not just about charm. He’s got a way of making you feel... anchored. Like you can break down in front of him, and he won’t look away." Ji-hye, by now well past tipsy, swayed gently in her seat. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips a soft pink. "Mmhmm," she murmured dreamily. "Feels really safe in his hug..." Coach Min groaned theatrically and reached out, grabbing Ji-hye’s ear and giving it a firm tug. "You’re still an athlete! Don’t let a warm hug melt your brain. You’ve got a national jersey to protect!" "Ow—ow!" Ji-hye yelped, dissolving into giggles. "Okay, okay! I’ll win gold and then melt!" Harin laughed so hard she had to set her glass down. "She’s not wrong, though. There’s just something about him. It’s criminal, really." From the kitchen, Joon-ho returned with a clean towel draped over one shoulder and a tray of sliced pears, chilled grapes, and sweet rice crackers in his hands. "What’d I miss?" he asked, setting the tray down casually. "Your personal fan club," Coach Min muttered darkly, downing another shot. "Must be a small club," he replied calmly, passing out toothpicks for the fruit. "But I appreciate the enthusiasm." "You’ve got guts," Coach Min said, squinting at him. "I don’t like your lifestyle, but I can’t argue with your results." "She’s smiling again," Harin added softly, nodding toward Ji-hye, who had gone quiet, her chin resting on her palm, smiling dreamily into her glass. "That’s worth something, right?" Coach Min exhaled slowly, then raised her glass once more. "One more, then I’m done." They clinked again, a quieter toast this time, more reflective than celebratory. The conversation drifted—volleyball gossip, useless trivia, stories from university days. Harin teased Ji-hye about her high school haircuts. Coach Min offered ancient wisdom in the form of terrible dating advice. The group slipped into a rhythm of easy familiarity. But eventually, the warmth turned heavy. Coach Min’s words began to slur, her head bobbing slightly between sentences. Ji-hye had long stopped contributing, her eyes glassy, mouth tugged into a sleepy half-smile. Harin, still more composed than the rest, set her glass down and stood. "I’ll drop her in the guest room," she whispered to Joon-ho, her hand brushing briefly against his arm. "Take care of our goddess, yeah?" He nodded. "Of course." Coach Min blinked slowly as Harin hoisted her gently to her feet. "Why are the stairs so tall?" she mumbled. "Shh, it’s okay. We’ll fly up them," Harin cooed, wrapping an arm around her and leading her down the hallway. Joon-ho watched them disappear before turning back to Ji-hye. Her chin was resting on her folded arms now, eyes only half open. Her lips parted in a soft, breathy hum. Back at the table, Ji-hye swayed slightly, her chin dipping forward. "I’m fine," she murmured, blinking blearily. "Not drunk... just my legs stopped listening..." Joon-ho chuckled quietly. "That’s drunk, Ji-hye." She gave a sleepy grin. "But a happy drunk..." Without another word, he slid his arms under her and lifted her effortlessly into a princess carry. She gasped softly, reflexively burying her face against his chest. "I feel like I’m floating," she mumbled, her breath warm against his neck. "You are." He brought her into the master bedroom, the room dim except for the soft golden hue of the bedside lamp. Gently, he laid her on the mattress, her fingers still loosely clinging to his shirt. "Take these off..." she whispered, tugging at her dress clumsily. "It’s too warm..." He helped her sit up, undressing her with care until she was left in nothing but her underwear. Her flushed skin glowed faintly in the low light. He stripped to his boxers and turned off the lamp. Ji-hye snuggled close as he slipped into bed beside her, her arms wrapping around his torso with a soft hum. "Mmm... warm..." Joon-ho kissed her forehead gently, brushing her hair back. "Sleep." She barely made a sound before her breathing slowed, her body melting completely into his. Outside, the villa was quiet, the stars peeking through the fading clouds. Inside, Ji-hye slept with a smile—safe, warm, and finally... at peace.