S P E C I A L

If Heyoung thought editing three episodes of a variety show in one day was stressful, she hadn't accounted for the nerves of meeting Choi Seungcheol's family.

Worse, she wasn't coming alone. Kkuma, the four-legged, high-maintenance ball of fluff she and Seungcheol treated like their child, sat on her lap as the train rumbled toward Daegu. Her paw twitched in her sleep, oblivious to the fact that she was about to meet her "grandparents."

"I feel like I'm walking into an evaluation," Heyoung mumbled, staring out the train window. "Do I look okay? Be honest."

Seungcheol glanced over, lips twitching into a soft smile. "You look perfect. Relax."

"I'm wearing a cream sweater," she said dramatically, tugging at the hem. "What if they're allergic to dogs or hate people who wear beige?"

"They love dogs. And they'll love you."

"You're too confident," she muttered. "Your mom raised you to be delusional."

"She raised me to know a good thing when I see it," he teased, reaching out to squeeze her hand.

She didn't say anything after that. Just leaning her head lightly on his shoulder, Kkuma snuggled between them like a living peace offering.

The Choi family home in Daegu was everything she imagined from Seungcheol's stories—modest, warm, and full of personal touches. Pots of plants lined the windows. There were family photos on the hallway wall, each one showing a younger Seungcheol with messy hair and an even messier smile.

"Cheol!" a woman's voice called from the kitchen.

His mother, elegant and kind-eyed, rushed over and pulled him into a hug before turning to Heyoung with a smile so welcoming that her anxiety eased instantly.

"You must be Heyoung," she said, hands reaching out gently.

"Ah, yes—hello, omoni," Heyoung bowed quickly, almost dropping Kkuma.

"Is that your daughter?" Seungcheol's mother joked, cooing at the dog. "You brought your child to meet us too?"

"We come as a set," Seungcheol added, taking Kkuma in one arm and slipping the other around Heyoung's waist.

Then came his father, quieter but with the same kind eyes. He gave Heyoung a polite nod, shaking her hand gently and glancing fondly at the now-licking Kkuma.

"Good taste in dogs," he said simply. "Loyal ones."

"Just like me," Seungcheol quipped.

"You? Loyal?" a voice from behind said with a laugh.

Heyoung turned to find Seungcheol's older brother, tall and slightly more serious-looking, entering the room. "I'm Seungmin. The better-looking one."

Seungcheol rolled his eyes. "You wish."

Heyoung chuckled nervously but bowed politely. "Nice to meet you, oppa."

"Finally," he said. "We've heard so much."

Dinner was a cozy affair. His mom made homemade japchae, galbi, and even a small bowl of kimchi fried rice "just in case Heyoung missed Seoul food."

Kkuma sat under the table like she owned the place, tail wagging every time someone slipped her a piece of meat.

"So," his mom said mid-meal, eyeing the couple. "Who takes care of Kkuma when you're both working?"

"We have a system," Seungcheol answered proudly.

"She means I take care of her while you forget to refill the kibble container," Heyoung said, elbowing him.

"Rude."

"True."

His parents chuckled quietly while his brother leaned closer, whispering to Seungcheol,

"She's already part of the family. You're done for."

Later, after dishes were cleared and his parents settled into the living room with a pot of tea, Seungcheol guided Heyoung out to the small backyard.

"You did great," he said, brushing a leaf off her sweater. "They love you. And Kkuma. Even Seungmin asked if you had a sister."

"Too bad," she said, smirking. "I'm one of a kind."

He pulled her close. "Exactly why I brought you home."

Heyoung leaned her head on his chest, Kkuma circling their feet like a tiny bodyguard.

"Thanks for making this feel less terrifying."

"You make everything feel less terrifying," he murmured into her hair. "Even the thought of my mom digging out my baby photos tomorrow."

"She's better," Heyoung grinned. "I'm not leaving until I've seen every embarrassing shot."