“Well, look who it is! It’s been a while!” 

As I slid open the door to the Haenyeo’s House, Yeojudaek peeked out from the kitchen and greeted me warmly. 

The haenyeo divers, having just returned from their morning dive, were likely busy preparing lunch. 

“How’s your health? I heard you were down with a bad cold last week….” 

“I’m fine.”

I replied gruffly, brushing off her concern as I made my way to the water tank. 

The blue tinted glass walls of the tank were teeming with large abalones and conch that the divers had caught that morning. Around the bubbling oxygen generator, several large octopuses stretched their thick, lazy tentacles. 

Without waiting for help, I reached into the tank, picked out the biggest, freshest abalones and pulled out an octopus. 

These were for Yoojin and her soon-to-be husband when they arrived. 

“Why? Are you planning to cook something special?” 

“Yes, Yoojin is coming over.” 

As I placed the selected seafood into a basin filled with seawater, Yeojudaek wiped her wet hands on her apron and hurried over. 

“Yoojin? Oh my, your granddaughter is coming?” 

Not just my granddaughter—she’s bringing the man she plans to marry. 

But I kept that to myself for now. 

The better the news, the bigger the occasion, the more you should hold your tongue. 

A marriage isn’t complete until they walk into the church and sign the marriage certificate. 

Until then, it was best to proceed cautiously and take things one step at a time. 

I didn’t want to get ahead of myself and risk the slightest misfortune for Yoojin. 

“A fresh batch of good quality cuttlefish came in on the morning boat today. You should grill some – it’s in season and will taste amazing. 

“Really? What do you have for sashimi?”

“We’ve got sea bass and red seabream. There’s plenty of rockfish, too.” 

Excited, I walked over to another tank where the freshly caught fish were kept. 

In my mind, I began to plan a series of dishes that could be made with these ingredients. With such fresh seafood, simply steaming or grilling them would bring out their natural flavours perfectly. 

I wanted to give my precious granddaughter and her future husband the very best the sea had to offer. 

After all, I was a haenyeo. 

My grandmother had been one, too. 

Even after marrying into the Jeju family of Chungmu (the old name for Tongyeong), my grandmother continued to dive. Following in her footsteps, I spent my entire life as a haenyeo, retiring only last year. 

From the summer of my fifteenth year to the summer of my sixty-ninth, I devoted myself to this blue sea. 

For 54 years, my body plunged into the depths, and the sea, in turn, etched itself deeply into my soul. 

Every day, the sea looked different, yet it always felt the same. 

Sometimes it shimmered in deep navy hues, at other times it was pale bluish-gray, and occasionally, it glowed with streaks of red. 

The sea could be calm, its surface gently rippling, or fierce, its waves crashing violently. It was cold in some seasons, warm in others – serene and fearsome, calm and unpredictable. 

As I dived beneath its surface, I was surrounded by an immense, heavy silence. 

Year after year I harvested thousands of abalones, conch, octopus and crabs from the crevices of the underwater rocks. 

Underwater, my eyes could instantly spot them with ease. 

I would lose myself in the work, only surfacing when my lungs were completely drained, and my chest felt like it was about to collapse. 

As I released my sumbi-sori—the breath held underwater—the sunlight reflecting off the sea’s surface would wrap around me like a blessing. 

The pain, tears and fear I felt in those moments when I pushed myself to the brink of death would disappear. In their place came a fleeting sense of peace, as if the sky and the wind themselves were embracing me. 

Now that I would never return to the sea, those moments had become treasured memories, forever locked away in my mind. 

With my wrinkled hands, I deftly separated the abalone’s flesh from its shell. 

The octopus, scrubbed thoroughly with salt, was already in the boiling water, and the cutlassfish sizzled on the grill, filling the air with its mouthwatering aroma. 

Yeojudaek helped prepare the sashimi and chopped the abalone innards to make porridge. 

Each time I lifted the lid of the pot, a cloud of steam rose, carrying with it the rich, salty scent of the sea. 

The knives, chopping boards and bowls – so familiar they felt like extensions of my own body – moved effortlessly in my hands, almost without thought. 

In no time, the table was transformed into a feast. 

I added side dishes like marinated anchovies, seaweed salad, and hijiki seaweed, making the spread even more abundant. 

A quick glance at the clock on the wall told me I was just on time for our meeting. 

I wondered how far along they were. Could they be stuck in traffic? 

Lifting my head, I looked beyond the glass doors toward the harbor. 

The seawater, pushed inland like a pouch of liquid, shimmered a bright blue in the sunlight. Boats that had sought shelter from the waves of the open sea were tied to the docks like dogs on a leash. 

Having a place to return to is a comforting thing. 

Perhaps it is a kind of happiness to have a familiar place where you were born and grew up. 

Yoojin lived with me for a while when she was a child. 

Maybe that’s why we have such a strong bond. 

After Yoojin was born, Ji-yoon had to continue working in Busan. 

Was it six years? No, seven? 

“Mom, do you hate me?” 

It was here, outside the doors of Haenyeo’s house overlooking the harbour, that Ji-yoon had held Yoojin’s hand and said goodbye to me. 

“You hate that I was born, don’t you? You’ve always felt that way. Just admit it.”

Her voice was sharp and trembling, filled with anger and sorrow twisted together like tangled threads. 

What did I say in response? 

“Of course not. How could you think such a ridiculous thing?” 

Is that what I said? 

“Stop lying.”

What did I say to ease her anger?

“I can see it all in your eyes, so stop lying to me!”

Ji-yoon’s figure storming off in a rage and Yoojin’s confused, innocent eyes as she was dragged along are still vivid in my mind. 

Like a ship finally breaking free of its moorings and leaving the harbour, Ji-yoon had stormed out of this place, leaving behind only the sound of her pounding footsteps. 

What had I done back then? 

Why hadn’t I moved? 

Why didn’t I run after her, catch up to her, and tell her with certainty that she was wrong? 

She must have been crying… 

She must have been crying as she walked away from me…. 

“Grandma!” 

Just then, as if in a dream, a voice called out to me. 

Yoojin, who resembled her mother but carried an entirely different expression, was stepping out of the car. 

“Yoojin!” 

I ran out in surprise. 

The Yoojin who had once been a little girl was now a grown woman, standing tall and looking back at me. 

“Grandma!” 

Taller than Ji-yoon, with long, confident strides, Yoojin quickly came over and hugged me. 

The scent of a luxurious and seductive perfume, the firm, youthful beauty of her smooth body – it was overwhelming. 

I felt as if I were holding a bouquet of flowers, or as though I had gathered wild summer blossoms, dazzling in full bloom at the foot of a midsummer mountain. 

Ah, this child… 

How could she be so young, so vibrant, so full of life? 

The youth that once burned in all of us, like a relentless fire that consumed and tormented us, had left me and now seemed to reside in her. 

“Have you been well?” 

Yoojin, who had just embraced my frail, withered body, looked up at me. 

Her smooth, radiant face glowed with youthful energy, and she gazed at me like a goddess of youth. 

I reached out and gently stroked her face. 

The face of my daughter. 

It felt as though the face of my own child, born of my flesh and blood, was reflected in hers. 

“Grandma, I missed you so much!” 

“Yes… yes, I missed you too.” 

Every single day, every moment, I thought of you. 

You and your mother. 

“And… that person?” 

I looked over Yoojin’s shoulder at the black car that had just parked.

Could her groom be inside that car? 

“Grandma, I’m so nervous right now.” 

My granddaughter smiled brightly, though there was a hint of nervousness in her expression. 

“I never thought a day like this would come for me.” 

“I never imagined it either, seeing you so happy truly fills me with joy.” 

And I meant it. 

If this child could be happy—if she, at least, could find happiness—I wouldn’t wish for anything more. 

The car was parked facing the harbour, and with a soft click the engine was switched off. The driver’s door opened and a tall man stepped out into the sunlight. 

And in that moment, time seemed to stop. 

No—had my breath stopped? 

He was… 

That man was…