One Honest Thing

Breakfast ended with one hypothetical daughter, an imaginary double wedding, three competing aunt committees, and my best buddy being publicly booed for rejecting a proposal he had never actually received.

Normal vacation progress, actually.

John remained at the table after the argument had moved on, both hands wrapped around his water glass while his soul appeared to have stepped outside for air. Sana was still attached to his arm, glowing with the satisfaction of someone who had detonated a conversation and suffered none of the consequences.

Beside me, Yeji ate fully cooked eggs and rationed half a cup of coffee under protest. She lifted it for another sip. I watched. Her eyes shifted toward me over the rim, “You’re still counting.”

“I’m observing.”
“You moved my cup farther away after the third sip.”

That accusation would have been easier to deny if Lia had not looked up from her tea and confirmed it. Ryujin, whose sunglasses were resting beside her because even she understood that wearing them at breakfast would look dramatic, called it surveillance husband mode. “Preventive care,” I corrected.

“For someone who isn’t pregnant.”
“Preventive hypothetical care.”
Yeji covered her face, “There should not be a hypothetical version.”

I looked at her cooked eggs, then at the coffee I had personally pushed beyond convenient reach “I disagree.”

“Benjie.”
“Yes, wife-girlfriend?”

Her fingers found my side beneath the table with perfect accuracy. Pain. Corrective pain. Romantic pain— I accepted the consequences with dignity.

Across from us, Jihyo set down her glass and looked at John “Come on.”

He did not move. His eyes narrowed instead, because after the morning he had endured, any direct instruction from a TWICE member deserved suspicion “Where?”

“Change into activity clothes.”

The table quieted just enough to become dangerous. John glanced around as if someone might intervene on his behalf. Nobody did. Most of TWICE looked interested. Sana looked delighted. Momo was already assessing whether he had consumed enough water to survive whatever came next “I asked for physical activity,” John said carefully. “I didn’t say when.”

“You asked.”
“That is true.”
Jihyo stood and held out her hand “And that was technically permission.”
“That isn’t how permission works.”
“It is how my day works.”

Sana finally released his arm, though only after whispering something near his ear that made him close his eyes in resignation. Then she kissed his cheek and wished him luck in a tone that sounded less supportive than predictive. John accepted Jihyo’s hand anyway. There was no managerial hesitation in it. No weighing of schedules or obligations. He understood what the rest of us did.

Today belonged to Jihyo.

Whatever she wanted from him, he had already decided to try “Do you think she’s going to kill him?” I asked as they started toward the villas. Momo shook her head “She’ll hydrate him.”

“That wasn’t the question.”
“It’s the important part.”
John stopped along the path and looked back at us “I can still hear you.”

Nayeon smiled and wished him luck. He stared at her for a moment “That sounded worse.” Jihyo tugged him onward before anyone could provide reassurance. Once they disappeared, breakfast began to dissolve naturally. Not into peace—nothing involving Nayeon, Ryujin, Yuna, Dahyun, or hypothetical children could be called peaceful without committing fraud—but into the slower disorder that followed everyone surviving too much before nine in the morning.

Momo started helping the resort staff clear plates. Chaeryeong immediately joined her and attempted to carry more dishes than her arms reasonably allowed. Momo removed half of them without asking, then placed a piece of toast in Chaeryeong’s newly freed hand “Carry this.”

Chaeryeong stared at the toast. Then ate it. Effective leadership. The others drifted toward their separate plans. Nayeon and Jeongyeon wandered in the direction of the recreation area with drinks, allegedly to walk. Nobody believed them. Sana led several of the others back toward the villas while Dahyun pretended she was not already discussing what Jihyo might have planned for John.

Mina and Chaeyoung left together, their shoulders brushing often enough to stop being accidental. Tzuyu followed them with three pieces of fruit and no explanation.

Eventually, the table belonged to ITZY and me.

And to the memory of a daughter who had somehow received breakfast regulations before being conceived. Yeji nudged my shoulder “You’re thinking too loudly.”

“I’m reconsidering every decision that led to Hana having fifteen aunts before she exists.”
“You made most of those decisions.”
“We made them together.”
Color warmed her cheeks “That doesn’t make the sentence better.”
“It makes it romantic.”
“It makes it worse romantically.”

Yuna leaned across the table before I could elaborate “So what are we doing?”
“Resting,” Lia said.
Ryujin put on her sunglasses “Boring.”
“You’re hungover.”
“I can be hungover dynamically.”
“That’s how you became hungover.”

Yuna turned to me with the unmistakable expression of someone about to invent mandatory recreation “Manager-nim?”

“No.”
“You don’t know what I was going to ask.”
“I know the category.”

She reached for her notebook anyway. Lia caught her wrist before she could document consent that had never existed. I would have enjoyed watching the argument continue if Yeji had not gone quiet beside me.

Her attention moved over my shoulders, down my arms, then toward the pathway John and Jihyo had taken “You want to move around don’t you.”

It was not a question. That was the problem with loving someone observant. Eventually, every lie had to survive eye contact, “I’m fine.” I assured her.

“That wasn’t what I said.”

The others quieted—not completely, but enough for me to feel their attention turn. I looked past the table toward the resort grounds. The morning was bright without being oppressive yet. Palm shadows stretched across the paths. Somewhere beyond them, the ocean moved with the kind of indifference only large bodies of water and financial markets could afford.

Except the markets did not need me that morning.

There were no calls waiting. No crisis hidden beneath the word urgent. Nobody needed protection for at least until lunch.

My body had not received that information. Too much noise from breakfast still lived beneath my skin. Too much future. Too much softness sitting beside me as though it belonged there “I could walk,” I said.

Yeji raised an eyebrow “Walk?”
“I contain cardiovascular potential.”
Ryujin looked offended by the phrasing “You contain acquisition documents.”
“I contain multitudes.”
Yuna stood immediately “We’re walking.”

Lia reminded her that she had complained about standing three minutes earlier, but Yuna had already decided walking was now an event. Yeji slipped her hand into mine as the others got up, “Walking,” she reminded me.

“Walking.”
“No buying recreational facilities.”
“I already own—”
Her fingers tightened around mine “Walking.”
“Yes, love.”

We made it six minutes. That was respectable. Possibly a personal record.

The recreation area sat farther inland from the beach, tucked between palms and shaded paths. Tennis courts occupied one side. A small badminton court and fitness pavilion sat beyond them. At the far end, beneath a low roof, a basketball struck pavement.

Once. Twice. Then the rim.

My feet stopped before my mind formally approved the decision. Yeji felt it through our joined hands “No.”

“I haven’t said anything.”
“You stopped.”
“I observed.”
“You stopped with intent.”

Ryujin followed my line of sight and made a small sound of understanding. Yuna brightened with the words “Basketball.”

Lia looked at me “Do you actually play?”
“Occasionally.”
Ryujin studied me “That sounded rich.”
“How can basketball sound rich?”
“You said occasionally like you own a private league.”
“I do not own a private league.”
Yeji gave me a look.
“I don’t, I swear.” I repeated.

A pause became necessary.

“Although I’ve sponsored several.”
Lia closed her eyes “Of course you did.”

Two resort staff members were already playing, one shooting from the side while the other collected rebounds. Several more stood nearby between tasks, towels draped over their shoulders. The shooter noticed me noticing the ball. He caught the rebound and held it beneath one arm “Would you like to shoot, sir?”