Obsessed With My Korean StepBrother

DEVI

By seven thirty on Friday evening, Devi had already decided that people were becoming increasingly annoying.

Not all people, obviously. Just the ones who snapped their fingers at waitresses, the ones who complained about prices after ordering half the menu, and the man at table six who had somehow managed to spill an entire glass of water without spilling a single drop of the wine sitting directly beside it.

“Excuse me?”

Devi turned around.

Table six.

Of course.

“Yes?”

“Could I get some more napkins?”

She looked at the puddle spreading across the table, then at the napkin sitting untouched beside his plate.

“Of course.”

She walked away before she could say anything else.

Working at the neighborhood restaurant wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills. The restaurant was only a short distance from her apartment, the manager was reasonably decent, and the hours meant she could still be home for Radha most evenings.

Most evenings. Not tonight, apparently.

Her shift had been busier than usual, and she had barely had time to check her phone. When she finally did, she found a message from her daughter.

Radha: Are you working late?

Devi: A little. I’ll be home as soon as I can.

Radha: Okay.

That was it.

Devi stared at the message for a moment, wondering whether Radha had eaten anything proper that day. She’d left food in the refrigerator that morning, but Radha had a habit of forgetting meals when she was occupied with something.

She typed another message asking whether she’d eaten, then deleted it.

Radha was seventeen, not seven. She didn’t need her mother interrogating her about every little thing.

Besides, if Devi asked too many questions, she’d probably get another one-word answer.

She slipped her phone into her apron and returned to work.

It was almost eight when the man at the entrance caught her attention.

He stood just inside the door, looking around the restaurant as though searching for someone. He was dressed neatly in a dark button-up shirt and trousers, his black hair styled well enough that Devi suspected he’d spent more than thirty seconds getting ready.

He checked his phone.

Looked at the door.

Checked his phone again.

Devi watched him for a moment before approaching.

“Table for one?”

The man looked up.

“Technically, two.”

She glanced behind him.

Nobody.

“Technically?”

“I’m waiting for someone.”

“Right. Would you like to sit while you wait?”

“Please.”

She led him to a table near the window and handed him a menu.

He thanked her, sat down, and immediately checked his phone again.

Devi went back to her other tables.

Ten minutes passed.

Then fifteen.

The man still hadn’t ordered.

She returned to his table.

“Has your guest arrived?”

He looked toward the entrance before looking back at her.

“No.”

“Would you like something to drink while you wait?”

“Water would be great. Thank you.”

She poured him a glass.

“Your guest might be running late.”

“That’s what I’m telling myself.”

There was something about the way he said it that made her smile faintly.

She left him alone.

Another fifteen minutes passed.

When Devi returned to check on him, he was sitting with his elbows on the table, staring at his phone with an expression that suggested the device had personally betrayed him.

“Any luck?” she asked.

He looked up.

“Depends. Does discovering that someone can apparently disappear off the face of the earth count as luck?”

Devi pressed her lips together.

She was not going to laugh at a customer who had been stood up.

She really wasn’t.

“Not particularly.”

“Thought so.”

He put his phone facedown.

“Could I order now, please? Before I become the first person in history to starve to death while waiting for a date?”

This time, Devi laughed.

It wasn’t a particularly loud laugh, but it was genuine enough to catch him off guard.

“Of course,” she said, opening her notepad. “What would you like?”

He ordered a meal, and she wrote everything down before taking the menu away.

As she walked back toward the kitchen, she found herself smiling a little.

At least he was funny.

That was more than she could say for table six.

SEONGHO

Seongho had three rules about dating.

First, don’t get your hopes up too early.

Second, don’t take everything personally.

Third, if somebody stood you up, at least have the decency to order dinner.

He was currently following the third rule.

The first two had become considerably more difficult.

He glanced at his phone again.

Nothing.

He’d arrived on time. He’d confirmed the reservation. He’d even worn the shirt his sister had insisted made him look less like a man who spent most of his evenings watching television after work.

And for what?

To sit alone beside a window while strangers occasionally looked at him with the unmistakable expression of people trying to work out whether he was waiting for someone or had been abandoned.

He couldn’t entirely blame them.

His date was nearly forty minutes late.

He picked up his glass of water and took a drink.

Maybe something had happened.

Maybe she’d gotten stuck in traffic.

Maybe she’d changed her mind and hadn’t known how to tell him.

He could think of a dozen reasonable explanations, but the longer he sat there, the less interested he became in inventing them.

Then his server came back.

She was a woman around his age, with dark hair pulled back neatly and an expression that seemed permanently caught somewhere between tired and amused. She had the air of someone who’d seen every possible variety of human foolishness and had stopped being surprised by any of it.

When she’d asked whether his guest had arrived, he’d been tempted to tell her that he was actually waiting for a delivery of emotional stability.

He’d decided against it.

She was working. He didn’t need to make her evening more difficult.

Still, when she laughed at his starving-to-death comment, he felt slightly better.

Not because he particularly needed a woman’s attention that evening.

He was simply relieved that somebody had found him funny.

His food arrived a few minutes later.

He thanked her, and she set the plate down.

“Anything else?”

“No, thank you. This is perfect.”

She nodded and moved toward another table.

Seongho started eating.

The food was good, which was fortunate, because he was beginning to suspect that his date had accidentally done him a favor by not showing up.

He’d spent the previous week exchanging messages with a woman he’d met through a friend. They’d seemed to get along well enough. Nothing particularly serious, just two adults seeing whether they enjoyed each other’s company.

Apparently, the answer had been no.

He could live with that.

What he couldn’t understand was why people found it so difficult to communicate a simple sentence.

I’m not interested.

There. Done.

No restaurant reservations wasted. No unnecessary expense. No sitting alone while a perfectly nice waitress watched him slowly lose his dignity.

He shook his head at himself and continued eating.

When the server returned to refill his water, he looked up.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends on the question.”

He smiled.

“Is the food always this good, or are you trying to convince me that being stood up isn’t so bad?”

She looked at his plate.

“You’ve nearly finished everything.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It answers it well enough.”

He laughed.

She refilled his glass.

“Are you going to be okay?” she asked, more seriously.

The question surprised him a little.

Not because it was particularly personal, but because she asked it without sounding as though she felt sorry for him.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s disappointing, but I’ll survive.”

“Good.”

She picked up a nearby empty plate.

“And for what it’s worth, you’re not the first person to get stood up here.”

He stared at her.

“That’s reassuring.”

“You’re welcome.”

She walked away.

Seongho watched her go, smiling despite himself.

Maybe the evening wasn’t a complete disaster after all.

DEVI

By nine o’clock, the restaurant had begun to quiet down.

The dinner rush was fading, the kitchen staff were preparing for closing, and Devi’s feet were starting to ache.

She stopped by the man’s table while collecting dishes from the surrounding area.

His plate was empty.

“Was everything all right?”

“Very much so.”

“Good.”

She reached for his plate, but he spoke again.

“Can I ask you something else?”

Devi raised an eyebrow.

“You have a lot of questions.”

“I’ve had a difficult evening.”

“Clearly.”

He smiled.

“Do you live around here?”

She paused, looking at him for a moment.

It wasn’t an inappropriate question, exactly, but it was still a little unexpected.

“Not far.”

“Ah. So you’re not going to tell me your entire life story.”

“Not while I’m working.”

“Fair enough.”

She picked up his plate.

“Why do you ask?”

“No particular reason. I was just wondering whether you always work evenings.”

“Most evenings.”

“That sounds exhausting.”

“It pays the bills.”

Something in her tone made him stop smiling quite so broadly.

Not because she’d been rude. She hadn’t.

It was simply the way she said it, as though the matter was settled and there was no point discussing it further.

Seongho recognized that tone. He’d heard it from people who had responsibilities they couldn’t afford to ignore.

He nodded.

“Fair enough.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then Devi glanced at the empty chair across from him.

“Well, at least you didn’t have to split the bill.”

Seongho looked at her.

She gave him a small, innocent smile.

He laughed.

“That’s cold.”

“I’m just saying.”

“You waited until I’d finished eating to make fun of me?”

“I was being professional.”

“Of course you were.”

She collected his glass and plate.

“Would you like the bill?”

“Please.”

She brought it over a few minutes later.

He paid, left a tip, and gathered his things.

As he stood, Devi noticed that he looked toward the entrance one last time.

She didn’t comment on it.

Instead, she wished him a good night.

“You too,” he replied.

He took two steps toward the door before turning back.

“Actually, I never got your name.”

Devi looked at him.

“Why?”

He blinked.

It was a fair question.

“Because I’d like to know it?”

“That’s a reason, I suppose.”

She was teasing him. He could tell now.

“Are you always this difficult?”

“Only when people ask too many questions.”

He grinned.

“Devi,” she said at last.

“Devi.”

He repeated it once, as if committing it to memory.

“I’m Seongho.”

“I know. It’s on your receipt.”

He looked down at the paper in his hand.

Then he looked back at her.

“Right. There goes my attempt at being mysterious.”

Devi laughed again.

“Have a good night, Seongho.”

“You too, Devi.”

This time, he actually left.

She watched him disappear through the glass doors before turning back toward the kitchen.

There were still tables to clean and work to finish. There was a bus ride home, a daughter to check on, and a dozen ordinary things waiting for her.

She had no reason to think about a man who’d been stood up on a Friday evening.

So she didn’t.

At least, she tried not to.

SEONGHO

The night air was colder than Seongho expected.

He buttoned his coat as he walked toward his car, his hands tucked into his pockets.

His date still hadn’t replied.

He checked his phone one final time before unlocking the car.

Nothing.

“Wonderful,” he muttered.

He got in, started the engine, and sat there for a moment.

He wasn’t heartbroken. It would have been ridiculous to be heartbroken over someone he’d never actually dated.

He was annoyed, embarrassed, and more than a little disappointed.

But as he thought back over the evening, his mind kept returning to the restaurant.

Specifically, to the waitress who had made fun of him while he was paying his bill.

Devi.

He smiled faintly.

She hadn’t flirted with him. She hadn’t tried to make him feel better. She hadn’t acted as though his evening was some tragic event requiring sympathy.

She’d simply talked to him.

And somehow, that had been the best part of his night.

He put the car into gear.

He would probably come back sometime.

The food had been good.

That was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

He didn’t need another reason.

At least, that was what he told himself as he pulled away from the curb.

DEVI

By the time Devi reached home, it was nearly ten.

She unlocked the apartment door quietly, slipping off her shoes near the entrance.

The television was on in the living room, but Radha wasn’t sitting in front of it. Her bedroom door was closed.

Devi set her bag down and checked the kitchen.

The food she’d left in the refrigerator that morning was still there.

She sighed.

“Radha?”

A moment later, her daughter’s door opened.

Radha stood in the doorway wearing an oversized shirt and comfortable trousers, her dark hair falling loosely around her face.

“What?”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yeah.”

Devi glanced at the untouched food in the refrigerator.

“What did you eat?”

Radha’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Food.”

“Radha.”

“What? You asked if I’d eaten. I said yes.”

Devi looked at her daughter for a moment, then sighed.

“There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry later.”

“Okay.”

Radha started to close the door.

“How was your day?” Devi asked.

“Fine.”

“School?”

“Fine.”

“Everything was fine?”

Radha looked at her.

“Do you want me to give you a detailed report?”

“No. I was asking.”

“Then I answered.”

Before Devi could respond, Radha slipped back into her room and closed the door.

Devi stood in the hallway for a moment.

Sometimes she worried about how little Radha told her. She knew her daughter had never been the most talkative person, even as a child, but something had changed over the years.

There were days when Radha seemed perfectly content to be alone.

And there were other days when Devi caught glimpses of something much heavier behind her daughter’s eyes.

She wished she knew how to reach her without making her feel cornered.

After a moment, she turned toward the kitchen and began putting away the things she’d brought home.

Her evening had been long.

Tomorrow would probably be just as busy.

And somewhere across Boston, a man named Seongho was probably deciding whether to give dating another chance.

Neither of them knew that their lives were about to become connected.

For now, they were strangers.

And that was where everything began.