“Then I know the perfect place for dinner. They have crayons and paper on every table.”
Nikia’s face lit up. “Really?”
“Really.”
As he walked back to his car, I realized I was smiling too. For the first time in months, I actually felt something other than fear. I felt hope.
Young Chul took us to an upscale Korean barbecue restaurant where the staff greeted him by name and treated us like we were royalty. Nikia’s eyes went wide when she saw the tabletop grill.
“We get to cook our own food?” she asked, amazed.
“We do,” he said, smiling. “Want to help me?”
“Perfect. Just like that. You’re doing great.” >> “I did it.” >> “You’re really good with her.” >> “She’s easy to be good to.” >>
For the next hour, I watched him patiently explain each dish to Nikia, letting her use the tongs to flip the meat, praising her when she did it right. She was glowing. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her this happy.
“You’re really good with her,” I said quietly.
He glanced at me, his expression softening. “She’s easy to be good to.”
After we ate, Nikia excused herself to go wash her hands. The moment she was out of earshot, Young Chul’s tone shifted.
“How are you really doing?” he asked.
“I’m managing.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I looked down at my plate. “I’m terrified. Every time my phone rings, every time someone walks too close to me at work, I think it’s him. I know he’s in jail, but I keep waiting for something else to go wrong.”
“It won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“Yes,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine. “I can.”
The way he said it—calm, absolute, final—made me believe him.
When we left the restaurant, Young Chul walked us to my car and handed Nikia a small gift bag. Inside was a stuffed animal and a children’s book about brave girls. Nikia hugged the stuffed animal immediately.
“Thank you, Mr. Yu.”
