Anna
If there’s one thing I hate more than Valentine’s Day, it’s uninvited memories of Valentine’s Day.
Unfortunately, both seem to be making a comeback, despite my best efforts to ignore them.
Case in point: the unopened envelope in my desk drawer.
It’s been eighteen months, and it still sits there, quietly mocking me every time I openthatdrawer.
I should have tossed it.Burned it.Turned it into an origami crane and set it afloat on Lake Superior.
Butno.Like the masochist I am, I kept it.
So, naturally, my brother Ethan needs a damn phone charger.And, of course, the only spare I have is tucked away inthatfucking drawer.
I yank it open with an exaggerated sigh, my annoyance amplified by the sound of Ethan rummaging in my kitchen like a raccoon.The envelope is right there, lying in wait like it knows I’ve been trying to forget about it.
“Find anything?”Ethan calls out, his voice muffled, probably because his face is buried in my leftover dumplings now.
“Working on it,” I snap, shoving aside a tangle of USB cords, sticky notes, and a half-empty pack of gum.My hand brushes against the envelope, and my stomach twists.
It feels heavier than it should—like it’s stuffed with bad decisions and unresolved feelings instead of paper or God knows what else.It could be filled with the tears of children, for all I know.
Ethan appears in the doorway, a dumpling poised halfway to his mouth.“Why do I feel like you’re having a meltdown over something that’s not a charger?”
“I’m not having a meltdown,” I say, pulling out the charger and slamming the drawer shut before the envelope can suck me into its vortex of regret.
He leans casually against the doorframe, smirking.“That your‘I’m lying’voice?”
“It’s my‘shut up and take this stupid charger’voice, jerk,” I snap, tossing it at him a little harder than necessary.“Get your own damn charger, too.That one stays here.”
Ethan catches it easily, his smirk deepening.“You’re touchy today.”
“You’reannoyingtoday,” I shoot back.
He shrugs, unbothered, and heads back to the kitchen.
I collapse into my chair, glaring at the closed drawer like it’s the embodiment of all my unresolved life choices.
“Thanks for the charger,” Ethan says, wandering back into the kitchen to scavenge the rest of my leftovers by the sound of it.When he returns, he nods toward my desk.“You know, you could really stand to organize that drawer.It’s a disaster.”
“It’s organized chaos,” I mutter, not wanting to get into it.
He laughs as he pops another dumpling into his mouth.“Sure it is.Anyway, it’s nice to be out of the house.Do you know how loud a newborn is?It’s like she’s trying to win an Olympic gold in screaming.”
I snort.“What did you expect?Babies cry, Ethan.She’s not going to come out quoting Aristotle.”
“Yeah, well, nobody warned me it would bethisconstant,” he says, leaning against the counter.“At one point, I swear Mina screamed for three hours straight.Three.Hours.Tess kept looking at me like I could fix it, and I’m just standing there wondering if I’ve aged ten years overnight.”
“Welcome to parenthood,” I say dryly, spinning my chair halfway toward him.“You signed up for this, remember?”
“Don’t remind me,” he groans.“Mom’s been calling non-stop too, trying to set up some big Korean family celebration to introduce the baby.I’m like, can we not?We don’t need to do a doljanchi.”
I chuckle, shaking my head.“Let me guess—she wants the full hanbok treatment, right?All the cousins, a table full of food nobody eats?”
Ethan’s laugh is full of exasperation.“You know it.She’s already talking about renting out the church basement.”
“Classic Mom,” I say, grinning despite myself.“Did she at least call it a ‘suggestion’ to make it seem like you had a choice?”