"I’ve been eating well."

"She says you’re studying business economics."

"Yes, ma’am."

"Your family?"

"My parents own convenience stores in Orange County. Three locations."

Something shifted in her mother’s expression. Not approval, not yet, but the absence of immediate dismissal.

"Convenience stores are difficult business. Long hours."

"They work very hard."

"And you? Do you work hard?"

Jordan didn’t hesitate. "I’m learning to."

Chloe’s mother studied him for another long moment. Then she nodded, once, and moved past him into the apartment.

"Daniel-ah, come help with the bags."

Daniel scrambled off the couch with the kind of speed he only showed when their mother was involved, and soon both of them were heading back downstairs to retrieve the groceries and supplies their mother had brought from Koreatown.

Which left Chloe alone with Jordan.

"That was good," she said quietly.

"I’m sweating through my shirt."

"I know. I can see."

"Great."

"She didn’t hate you immediately. That’s better than most."

"What’s the bar for most?"

"My father once made a boy cry in the first thirty seconds."

"How?"

"He stared at him until the kid broke."

Jordan went slightly pale.

"Your father isn’t coming today, right?"

"He couldn’t leave the store." Chloe paused. "But if this goes well, you’ll meet him next time."

"If?"

"When. Probably when."

Jordan exhaled slowly. "Your family is terrifying."

"We prefer ’traditional.’"

The door opened again and Chloe’s mother swept back in, arms laden with bags that Daniel was supposed to be carrying but had somehow escaped. She headed straight for the kitchen, already evaluating the prep work Chloe had done and the setup she’d prepared.

"The vegetables are cut wrong."

"I cut them exactly how you taught me."

"Then I taught you wrong. Come, I’ll show you again."

Chloe shot Jordan an apologetic look and followed her mother to the kitchen, falling back into the familiar rhythm of being a daughter under her mother’s exacting standards. The next two hours passed in a blur of cooking and quiet criticism and the occasional approving nod that meant more than any verbal praise.

Jordan helped.

He didn’t know what he was doing, but he helped anyway, following instructions without complaint and asking questions that showed he was actually paying attention. Her mother corrected him constantly, but the corrections got less sharp as the evening progressed, shifting from "wrong" to "close" to "acceptable."

By the time dinner was served, Jordan had earned two genuine smiles from Chloe’s mother.

Chloe wasn’t sure he understood how significant that was.

They ate at the small table in Chloe’s dining area, the four of them crowded together in a space designed for two. The food was incredible, because her mother’s food was always incredible, and the conversation flowed more easily than Chloe had expected.

Her mother asked about Jordan’s classes, his grades, his plans after graduation.

Jordan answered honestly, talking about his business ventures without revealing too much, describing his improvements this semester without bragging about his suddenly perfect GPA.

Daniel contributed occasional commentary, mostly about gaming and the hot springs resort that Jordan had promised to take him to visit.

Chloe watched them interact and felt something warm settle in her chest.

This was what she’d wanted.

This was what she’d been afraid to hope for.

At 8:47, her mother began gathering her things.

"I should go. Long drive."

"You could stay the night."

"I have shift at six. Your father can’t open alone."

The familiar guilt surfaced, the one Chloe pushed down every time she talked to her parents. The guilt of having money they didn’t know about, of building wealth while they struggled, of being unable to help openly because helping openly would mean explaining where the money came from.

Someday she would tell them.

Someday she would have enough legitimate income to justify the support.

Someday.

"Thank you for dinner, eomma."

"Thank you for introducing me to your boyfriend." Her mother’s eyes moved to Jordan, who had stood when she stood and was now waiting near the door with the appropriate degree of respectful attention. "He’s not terrible."

From her mother, that was practically a marriage endorsement.

"I’ll make sure to tell him you approve."

"I didn’t say approve. I said not terrible. There’s difference."

Her mother hugged her again, brief and tight, then moved to the door where Daniel and Jordan were waiting. She exchanged a few words with Jordan that Chloe couldn’t quite hear, then allowed Daniel to walk her down to her car.

The door closed.

Chloe and Jordan were alone.

"What did she say to you?" Chloe asked.

Jordan’s face was doing something complicated. "She said if I hurt you, she knows people in Koreatown who make problems disappear."

"She was joking."

"She wasn’t smiling."

"She never smiles when she’s joking. It’s her thing."

Jordan didn’t look reassured.

Chloe crossed the apartment and stopped in front of him, close enough to feel his warmth, close enough to see the faint sheen of nervous sweat that still lingered at his temples.

"You did good."

"Yeah?"

"Better than good. You were perfect."

"I don’t know about—"

She rose on her toes and kissed him.

Not a small kiss, not the careful pecks she’d been giving him in public. A real kiss, deep and slow, her hands coming up to grip the front of his henley while his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer.

When she finally pulled back, they were both breathing harder than before.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For today. For everything."

"I didn’t do anything."

"You showed up. You tried. You let my brother beat you at video games." She smiled, and it felt genuine in a way that most of her smiles didn’t. "That’s not nothing."

Jordan’s hand came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone with a gentleness that made her chest ache.

"I meant what I said earlier. About being serious."

"I know."

"I’m not going to mess this up."

"I know that too."