CHAPTER 219: CHAPTER 219: FAMILY TIES

A few days before Christmas, the air in the apartment complex was thick with the kind of anticipation that made every hour feel charged. Mirae and Jina’s single had shot up the charts, climbing stubbornly higher, now perched in the coveted top five. The group chat was a cascade of celebratory memes and screenshots, staffers from LUNE popping in with updated streaming numbers and fan tributes from all over Korea and beyond.

Yura was already fully moved in, her new home a minimalist haven of soft fabrics and glowing lamps, the telltale touches of Lumina’s luxury everywhere. She sat curled on the sofa in a loose sweater and lounge pants, hands cupped around a mug of roasted grain tea, her second month of pregnancy just starting to soften the sharpness of her cheekbones. Across from her, Ha-eun lounged in her usual understated opulence—hair swept up, nails lacquered, legs crossed and posture somehow both regal and lazy.

They’d been talking for hours, the way only women with years of complicated history could—drifting from gossip to business to confessions and back again.

Ha-eun leaned in, lips curving with wicked delight. "So Baek Ji-hwan is officially liquidating. Bundang, Cheongdam, even that ridiculous penthouse he bought for his little mistress—gone. Snapped up at a discount. I almost feel bad for the poor bastard."

Yura snorted, letting herself relax into the teasing. "Almost? Please. I hope he had to sell it all at a loss."

Ha-eun’s eyes sparkled, the shadows in her gaze sharp. "Oh, I made sure he did. Consider it retroactive compensation for pain and suffering. That man made your life hell. This—" she spread her hands, as if encompassing the city itself, "—is a little justice."

Yura sipped her tea, warmth blooming behind her ribs. "You sound like you’re having too much fun with this."

"I am," Ha-eun agreed, no shame. "And thanks to your little clinic boy, I turned a handsome profit. I can’t even scold him for knocking you up—he delivered in every department."

Yura’s laughter spilled over, the easy, warm kind that sounded like old friendship and new beginnings. "You’re insufferable."

"I want godmother rights," Ha-eun declared, pointing her spoon like a scepter. "First dibs. I’ll spoil the child rotten."

Yura grinned, feigning solemnity. "There’s a waiting list, you know. Harin, Mirae, even Coach Min tried to bribe me with imported vitamins."

"Coach Min’s bribes don’t count," Ha-eun sniffed. "She’ll have the poor thing on a volleyball court before it can walk."

Before Yura could answer, the door clattered open. Harin strode in, cheeks flushed from the cold, Mirae trailing behind with her phone glued to her ear, Ji-hye in tow carrying a bag of groceries and trying to balance a cup of iced coffee.

Harin dumped her purse on the kitchen island, collapsing with a groan. "Unnie, you have to help me. Joon-ho’s been working me to death. He says it’s ’character building,’ but I think he just likes seeing me sweat."

Yura hid a smirk behind her cup. "Are you complaining, or bragging?"

Harin pouted, flinging an arm around Mirae. "Can’t you support me, at least? She’s no help—she said if I slack off, she’ll claim the number two spot."

Mirae snickered, holding up her phone to show a chat full of fan messages. "I already have more fan messages than you today. Maybe the fans know something you don’t."

Harin clutched at her chest in mock betrayal. "Et tu, Mirae? Traitor. I thought we were in this together!"

Ji-hye dumped the groceries and joined them, her voice small but edged with envy. "At least you two get to live together. My mom still won’t let me move in unless I win a gold medal next season. I think she’s actually enjoying torturing me."

Ha-eun arched an eyebrow. "Coach Min is a national treasure—and a sadist. Consider it motivation."

Ji-hye sighed, flopping beside Harin. "I might have to sneak out one night and hide in your closet."

Yura reached over, squeezing Ji-hye’s hand. "You’ll get there. And when you do, we’ll throw you a moving-in party bigger than this Christmas one."

The conversation spun out, laughter tumbling from one woman to another, the room thick with the sound of a chosen family. They swapped stories—Mirae’s latest sponsor DM disaster, Harin’s epic fail at ordering lunch for the office, Yura’s pregnancy cravings (pickled radish and salted caramel ice cream, an unholy combo that made even Ha-eun shudder), Ji-hye’s latest training injury.

When Joon-ho finally appeared, the clinic door clicking shut behind him, Soo-jin was right on his heels, her hair tousled, cheeks pink from the cold. She barely had time to shed her jacket before Harin pounced, wrapping her in a dramatic hug.

"Soo-jin! Tell him it’s too much. He made me do double hours, and I haven’t had a day off in weeks."

Soo-jin snorted, unbothered. "You’re not even the worst. At least you get to flirt while you work. I had to deal with a client who kept trying to talk about my skin care routine for an hour."

Joon-ho leaned against the counter, arms crossed, expression amused. "My sympathies are limited. You all asked for high standards."

Yura set her cup down, voice warm. "High standards, yes. Slave driver, no. You’re not going to work them through the holidays, are you?"

He shook his head. "Actually, I was thinking we should all celebrate together. Ha-eun, is the rooftop bar free Christmas Eve?"

Ha-eun’s face lit up. "For you, always. I’ll put the word out—exclusive list, only family and loyal staff."

Everyone chimed in at once—cheering, debating food, drinks, decorations, what playlist to use. Mirae started a running list of who was bringing what, promising her famous mulled wine, Ji-hye offered to bake cookies ("Don’t let her near the oven," Harin stage-whispered, "she’ll burn water"), Yura joked about bringing non-alcoholic cocktails for the baby.

Joon-ho glanced at Soo-jin. "You coming, unless you’ve got hot plans with the boyfriend?"

Soo-jin rolled her eyes. "He only texts me when he needs something. He asked for concert tickets, then money for his car last week. I’ll probably break up with him after New Year, if he doesn’t do it first."

Mirae scowled. "Dump him now. You deserve someone who actually likes you for you."

Harin nodded, supportive for once. "Seriously. If you want, we’ll throw you a break-up party instead."

Soo-jin laughed, looking genuinely touched. "Thanks. Maybe I will."

The apartment was alive, every corner humming with holiday plans and the easy affection of people who’d survived a dozen storms together. As the sky outside deepened from blue to purple, the women took turns trying on hats and accessories for the party, modeling ugly Christmas sweaters, cackling over old photos on Yura’s phone.

Ha-eun propped her feet on the coffee table, swirling her wine. "You know, I always wanted a big family. I just didn’t expect to collect one like this."

Yura nodded, gaze soft. "Me neither. But I wouldn’t change a thing."

Joon-ho watched them, something fierce and quiet in his eyes. "Let’s make this one to remember."

Later that night, the apartment lights glowed against the dark, laughter drifting out into the hallway. Plans for the rooftop party swelled—karaoke, secret Santa, more food than anyone could eat. Harin rallied the group for a practice run of the holiday toast, making everyone hold imaginary glasses, Mirae started a group playlist for the event, and Ji-hye texted Coach Min a list of "reasons I should move out" (most of which were just variations of "my friends need me more").

The found family sprawled across sofas and cushions, a patchwork of ambition, history, scars, and hope. For once, no one talked about charts or scandals or what came next. For a breathless hour, they let themselves feel safe. Loved. Ready.

And above them, the rooftop waited, strung with lights, the promise of celebration glittering just out of reach.