“The appetizers look wonderful,” she said, understanding no genuine suspicion colored her particular observation.
I nodded, understanding I could barely manage coherent conversation given everything churning throughout my mind.
Sang-chul avoided my eyes carefully, understanding perhaps some instinct warned him regarding my own genuine, unexpected comprehension.
Minho seemed entirely composed, understanding he had no idea his own father’s raised voice had carried far enough reaching my careful, listening ears.
Sophie arrived twenty minutes later, understanding genuine confusion still colored her entire expression walking through their front door.
“What’s going on,” she asked, glancing between everyone present with obvious, growing concern.
I pulled her aside quietly, understanding this particular conversation required genuine privacy before proceeding further.
“I need to tell you something,” I said. “Understanding I overheard Minho and his father talking. In Korean.”
“You don’t speak Korean,” she said, confusion accompanying that particular observation.
“I’ve been learning,” I told her. “Understanding I wanted surprising you eventually. But right now, that doesn’t matter.”
I relayed everything I’d heard carefully, understanding precision mattered considerably given the genuine gravity of what I was sharing.
I described each sentence exactly as I remembered it, understanding Sophie deserved comprehensive, accurate information rather than my own particular interpretation of events.
Sophie’s face drained of color throughout my entire explanation, understanding devastation accompanied processing everything I’d just revealed.
Her hands gripped the edge of the counter, understanding she needed physical support processing everything overwhelming she was simultaneously absorbing.
“Jihoon,” she repeated quietly. “Understanding I’ve never heard that name before in my entire life.”
“Neither had I,” I told her. “Understanding we need answers immediately.”
We walked back into the dining room together, understanding Sophie’s own composure carried genuine, remarkable strength despite everything she’d just learned.
I remained close beside her, understanding genuine support mattered considerably given everything overwhelming she was simultaneously processing.
“Minho,” she said, her voice carrying careful, controlled steadiness. “Who is Jihoon?”
