The Threshold

The two women stood side by side on the narrow sidewalk, facing a modest terrace house tucked between two others of similar design. Hae-won pulled out her phone, squinting slightly at the screen as she double-checked the address Jin-ho had given them. Her thumb scrolled up and down the message, one last time as if rereading it would somehow change the destination. But no, the numbers matched. This was the place.

"This is it," Hae-won confirmed quietly, locking her phone and slipping it back into her coat pocket.

The house before them was unassuming, with soft beige walls that had seen the wear of a few seasons. The small front yard was fenced by a low wooden gate, with a patch of trimmed grass and a couple of potted plants flanking the doorway. A faded welcome mat lay just before the front step, curled slightly at the edges. The windows were bare of curtains, letting in the soft glow of morning light, and the white-painted door showed signs of minor scuffs from the years.

It wasn't the sort of place either woman had pictured Jin-ho living in. For someone as elusive and unpredictable as him, they had imagined something more... complicated. But here it was—simple, ordinary, and perhaps that was the strangest part of all.

"It suits him," Hae-won murmured under her breath, her eyes lingering on the little details—the chipped paint on the gate, the tiny figurine of a fox peeking out from one of the plant pots.

Hye-su remained silent, her gaze fixed on the door. The distance between them and the man they had searched for over the years had suddenly shrunk to the span of a single doorstep. She could almost feel the weight of the unfinished past pressing down on her chest. This was it. After everything, all the dead ends, the sleepless nights, the guilt, and the frustration—here they were.

A small gust of wind rustled the leaves above them, and Hye-su tightened her grip on her coat as if bracing herself for what was to come.

"Do you think he's expecting us this early?" Hae-won asked, her voice low, more rhetorical than anything else.

Hye-su exhaled slowly, allowing a slight curl of tension to leave her shoulders.

"Knowing Jin-ho?" she muttered. "He probably already knows we're here."

And yet, neither of them moved. It was strange how years of determination to find someone could bring them to this exact moment—and still, the first step forward felt so heavy. The past had a way of anchoring people, pulling them down just when they needed to move the most.

"We came this far," Hae-won whispered, glancing at her friend. "No point in stopping now."

Hye-su gave a small nod, her expression unreadable. Then, with a steadying breath, she lifted a hand toward the door, hesitating only a fraction of a second before rapping her knuckles firmly against the wood.

The soft sound echoed through the quiet morning air, and now, there was nothing left but to wait.

Hae-won glanced at Hye-su before pressing the doorbell. The chime echoed faintly through the house, and they waited in silence. A few seconds passed, long enough for both women to exchange uncertain looks, before they heard the soft shuffle of footsteps approaching from inside.

The door creaked open, revealing a small boy, no older than seven. His dark, slightly tousled hair framed a round face, and his sharp eyes—familiar in a way that neither woman had prepared for—peered up at them curiously. Both Hye-su and Hae-won froze, their breath catching in their throats.

He looked... just like Jin-ho. A smaller, younger version of the man they had spent years searching for. The resemblance was uncanny. The same sharp jawline, the same slanted, mischievous eyes, softened only by youth. It was like seeing a piece of Jin-ho's past in the flesh, standing before them in oversized pyjamas.

The sudden sight of him felt like a punch to Hye-su's gut. Her mind raced. How could this be? Jin-ho never talked about his personal life—never. No family stories, no hints of siblings or relatives, and certainly nothing about a child. So who was this boy? A brother? A nephew? Or...

The thought came unbidden, hitting her harder than she expected. Could this be his son?

A pang of emotion stabbed her, surprising her with its intensity. Why does this hurt? she thought bitterly. She had long buried any lingering feelings for Jin-ho—or so she believed. It had been years. They were different people now, weren't they? This was just old sentimentality surfacing, nothing more. But the ache in her chest said otherwise.

"Who are you?" the boy asked, tilting his head with innocent curiosity.

Hae-won, ever the professional, cleared her throat and crouched slightly to his eye level.

"We're friends of Jin-ho," she said with a kind smile. "I'm Hae-won, and this is Hye-su. Is he home?"

The boy nodded thoughtfully, his expression serious for someone so young, and then pulled the door open wider.

"Come in," he said, stepping aside to let them enter.

The two women exchanged another glance—this time laden with more questions than before—before crossing the threshold. The house was quiet, filled with the subtle warmth of lived-in comfort. The wooden floors creaked gently underfoot as the boy led them through a short hallway and into a cosy living room.

"Please sit," the boy offered, gesturing to the couch. They took their seats, still feeling slightly disoriented by the unexpected situation.

Hae-won leaned forward, her tone careful but friendly.

"Do you know where Jin-ho is?" she asked, deliberately avoiding any terms like your dad or your brother until they understood more about the boy's relationship with him.

The boy plopped down on a cushioned chair, kicking his feet idly.

"He's out with Mom," he said nonchalantly as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Hae-won's brows knit together. Mom? The word sent her mind spinning with questions. The casual way the boy mentioned Jin-ho being with his mother heavily implied some kind of family connection—something far more personal than they had ever imagined.

Meanwhile, Hye-su sat stiffly, trying to mask the wave of emotions swirling inside her. But her heart sank all the same. A mom. He's with a mom. Whether it was a wife, a partner, or just someone important in his life, the thought stung more than she cared to admit. She pressed her lips together tightly, as if doing so could hold the feelings back.

"They'll be back soon," the boy added with a shrug, already losing interest in his guests. He stood up, stretching his small arms. "I'm going to my room now."

Without waiting for a reply, he padded off down the hallway, leaving the two women alone with their thoughts.

Hae-won slumped back against the couch, rubbing her temples as if she could physically sort through the confusion.

"What the hell is going on?" she whispered under her breath.

Hye-su remained silent, her gaze distant as she stared at the spot where the boy had stood moments ago. Of all the scenarios they had considered in their search for Jin-ho, this... this was not one of them.

The ticking of the clock on the wall filled the room, slow and deliberate, marking the awkward silence that had fallen between Hye-su and Hae-won. The soft tick, tick, tick seemed to magnify the strange tension hanging in the air as if counting down to the inevitable arrival of Jin-ho—and the mysterious woman referred to as Mom.

Hae-won shifted uncomfortably in her seat, drumming her fingers on her knee.

"This is... unexpected," she mumbled, glancing toward the hallway where the boy had disappeared.

Hye-su remained still, her gaze fixed on the modest coffee table in front of her, but her mind swirled with conflicting thoughts. She told herself she had no right to feel this way—Jin-ho had every reason to move on and live his life however he saw fit. Yet, knowing that there was now a child involved, and possibly even a partner, made everything feel more complicated than it had any right to be.

"Do you think it's really his kid?" Hae-won asked quietly, not looking at Hye-su but sensing her inner turmoil.

Hye-su pressed her lips together, hesitating before answering.

"I don't know. Maybe." Her voice was barely audible, betraying the emotion she was trying so hard to suppress. "He... never told us anything like this."

"Well," Hae-won exhaled, leaning her head back against the couch, "Jin-ho was always good at keeping things to himself."

The two women lapsed into silence again, the clock on the wall ticking away mercilessly. Each passing second felt heavier than the last. Hye-su crossed her arms, gripping them tightly as if holding herself together. She hated the unfamiliar tightness in her chest—regret, uncertainty, and a flicker of old emotions she thought she had buried long ago.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Every sound from outside—the crunch of leaves underfoot, the faint hum of a passing car—made them sit up a little straighter, anticipating the arrival of Jin-ho and whoever this mom might be.

Hae-won stole a glance at Hye-su, noting the unease written on her face.

"It'll be fine," she said, more to herself than anyone.

Hye-su gave a faint nod, but she wasn't convinced. The clock kept ticking, dragging the moment closer to something she wasn't ready to confront.

Jin-ho was coming. With her. And whatever truth walked through that door with him, there would be no turning back.