Chapter 70: Mother of the double-breasted fish (2)

Part 3

“You’re home early today?” my mom asked.

“They ran out of ingredients early. I finished the dishes, including Sanghyeon’s dinner mess, so you can start cooking right away,” I replied.

“Why not try cooking together?” she suggested.

Turning from the sink, I saw her entering the kitchen, still in her work clothes. Does she always check the kitchen first because she’s a mom?

It hit me that since my change, I’d been so caught up in myself that I hadn’t thought much about my family. I’m jobless—helping with cooking’s no big deal. Smirking slightly, I nodded slowly.

“I’ll help, but go wash up and change first. Junseok-hyung’s still out, right?” I said.

“Yeah… wait, what did you say?” she asked.

“Go shower and change,” I repeated.

“No, before that!” she pressed.

“If you don’t hurry, you’ll get moldy,” I teased.

Her words got lost in her hurried footsteps. From the master bedroom, Dad’s voice faintly asked, “What’s going on?” I couldn’t help but giggle again.

If I’d known she’d be this happy… I should’ve helped sooner. I’d been focused on accepting and understanding my situation, but maybe I’d been quietly resisting “feminine” tasks like cooking. Not that cooking’s inherently women’s work, but had I been rejecting it because it felt that way?

“…From now on, then,” I murmured.

So she can enjoy it. In a house with three sons, maybe she’d secretly longed for a daughter. As her child, I should do my best to make her happy. With that thought, I resumed washing dishes. She’ll take at least twenty minutes to shower—maybe I’ll start rice for three.

Just triple the water for one serving, right?

Turning the faucet back on, I scrubbed the drying suds off the dishes. Mom didn’t mention the dolphin shorts. Maybe she just saw them as short shorts? Sanghyeon’s reaction was over the top.

The pile of dishes vanished one by one. Struggling to remove the clingy rubber gloves, I glanced around for the rice when—

“Ready to cook, Yoonseo-ya?!” Mom’s voice rang out.

“Whoa!” I yelped.

Fast. Barely five minutes had passed. Her hair, loosely wrapped in a towel, was still dripping as she stood at the kitchen entrance, breathless. Seriously, Mom?

“Did you even wash properly?” I asked.

“I’m just working indoors—no sweat, it’s fine!” she insisted.

“Come on, that’s not okay,” I said.

“Did you rinse your hair?” I pressed.

“Just splashed some water!” she admitted.

“Unbelievable,” I sighed.

Her sparkling eyes shone with a joy I hadn’t seen in years—maybe four or five years younger in that moment. How can I tell her to go back and wash properly now?

“What’s for dinner?” I asked.

“Let’s start with something simple!” she said.

“This isn’t a cooking class, Mom. It’s dinner prep,” I teased.

“Whatever!” she laughed.

Her cackle made her seem younger still. Dad would love this. I chuckled along with her.

“Let’s try rolled omelets?” she suggested.

“Isn’t that hard?” I asked.

“Not at all!” she assured.

Whatever. She’s this happy, so why not? Matching her vigorous nod, I let out a soft laugh.

Part 4

“…You cooked together?” Dad asked.

“Yeah, well, Mom did most of it—” I started.

“Nonsense! Yoonseo did half! I knew from her piano days—she’s so delicate with her hands, she nails anything!” Mom cut in.

Dad and Junseok-hyung’s expressions—shock or unease—flickered between the table and my face. Unsure how to react, I flashed a goofy smile, letting it speak for me.

“…What a shock,” Dad muttered.

“All this over shorts?” I said.

“Not just any shorts—they’re super short! Dad, would you let Yoonseo wear those on stream?” Junseok-hyung asked.

“No way. Too much skin,” Dad replied.

Dad’s chopsticks cautiously picked up a piece of omelet, as if it were fragile. I just shaped it—Mom seasoned it, so it should taste fine. I considered saying so but decided it’d sound desperate and kept quiet.

“So, what’s gotten into you?” Junseok-hyung asked.

“Sanghyeon asked the same thing,” I said.

“Of course. When someone changes this much overnight, even non-family would be shocked,” he said.

Junseok-hyung’s reaction when he first saw me in the kitchen was even more dramatic than Sanghyeon’s. He’d collapsed to the floor, hand over his mouth, blinking rapidly before suddenly slapping his own cheek. Mom and I had seriously considered asking the doctor for a psychiatrist referral.

“Was it as shocking as when I saw you self-harming?” I teased.

“I was seriously stunned! Dolphin shorts? They’re, like, that!” he exclaimed.

“The college girl vibe?” I offered.

“Exactly!” he agreed.

Despite Mom and Dad’s exasperated looks, Junseok-hyung kept going. Perfect at work—academic, polished, diligent—but why’s he like this at home? He’d always been looser here, but lately, it was worse.

“I’ve been saying I’m getting used to it, accepting it. I just thought it’d be fine to try them,” I explained.

“Still…!” he protested.

“Oh, Mom, they sent the photos from yesterday. Wanna see?” I asked.

“The ones for promotion?” she said.

“Yeah, they came out great,” I replied.

Junseok-hyung’s muttering and Dad’s scolding faded into the background. I opened my phone’s gallery and handed it to Mom. “Wow, like a wedding dress!” she exclaimed, followed by, “Don’t say that to her!” to Dad.

The warm chatter settled over the table. Their willingness to adapt to me, Junseok-hyung’s lingering worry—it reminded me of tougher times. But it’s passed, and things are heading somewhere good.

“I keep saying it, but I’m really fine,” I said softly.

The chatter stopped. Their gazes tickled, and I grinned. My eyes are on hyung, but this is for you both too.

“I’m genuinely okay. I’m not pretending, forcing myself to wear this stuff. It just suits me. Gotta show off these legs—can’t let them go to waste at home,” I said.

“Yoonseo-ya…” Mom murmured.

“I’ll keep changing as I get used to it. If it’s tough, I’ll ask for help, cry, throw tantrums. But right now, I’m fine. Really. So…” I trailed off.

Mom was thrilled just cooking together—what if I granted hyung’s lifelong wish? Curiosity struck, and I stared silently at his proud expression.

“Oh…” I started.

A brief pause. That single syllable made Junseok-hyung’s eyes widen, rivaling his kitchen reaction, as if he’d already guessed what was coming. Hope his eyes don’t pop out.

Time seemed to stretch, each moment elongated. His dry swallow echoed. His lips trembled. Wait, this feels harder than dolphin shorts. So embarrassing to say…

“…No, this might be too much for now,” I backtracked.

“Nooo!” he wailed.

“Sorry, let’s ease into the name thing,” I said.

Time snapped back. His dramatic cry stung my ears, but his excited expression was hilarious. Hehe.