If one more person told me to "be strong," I was going to throw myself into the grave with my aunt. She loved her aunty and yes she's sad but guyyy....
It had been a week since the burial, and the compound still smelled like jollof rice and leftover grief. I was sitting under the mango tree, wearing the wrapper my aunt used to chase goats with, scrolling through my phone and pretending to be busy. Pretending was easier than watching uncles argue over who got her freezer.
"Daniella."
I looked up. My father was standing there like a ghost that had gotten lost on the way to the afterlife. He hadn't changed much, still tall, still too serious, still with that look like he was solving math problems in his head.
"Good afternoon, sir," I said, because when your father disappears for years and then shows up, you don't just call him Daddy. You test the waters.
He cleared his throat. "Can we talk?"
I shrugged. "We're talking."
He gave me the kind of look that meant stop being smart, so I dropped my phone and followed him to the back veranda. The air smelled of palm oil and rain.
"I know this past week has been… difficult," he began, folding his hands like he was about to deliver bad news from a church pulpit.
"Eh-heh, " I said.
"I want you to come and live with me."
I blinked. "As in… your house in Abuja?"
"No," he said slowly, "my house in Seoul. South Korea."
I stared at him. "The country?"
"Yes, the country."
"As in, K-pop, kimchi, and people doing finger hearts?"
His mouth twitched like he wasn't sure if he was allowed to smile. "Yes."
I folded my arms. "You disappeared for how many years? and now you want me to pack my Ghana-Must-Go and come and live with you in Korea? Do I look like BTS? Eh?"
"You'll like it there. My wife is very kind. And you'll have brothers."
I tilted my head. "Brothers?"
"Three. One older at least by a month, two younger twins."
I put my hand dramatically over my heart. "Twins? God, is this a Nollywood plot twist?"
"It'll be good for you," he continued.
I eyed him resisting the urge to hiss. See this one oh! You go where I no know since, now you're coming back and acting like you know wetin dey sup for my life.
He sighed. "Pack your things, Daniella. We leave in two weeks."
I nodded slowly, already planning my dramatic farewell tour. "Fine. But I'm not eating anything with long legs."
________
The morning of the flight, I woke up to the smell of fried plantain. My aunt wasn't there to make it-she'd been gone for a week now- but one of my cousins had taken pity on me. I wasn't sure if it was a farewell gift or a bribe to get my room after I left.
I ate slowly, staring around the small dining room I'd grown up in. The cracked wall paint. The noisy ceiling fan that wobbled like it was about to crash down. The corner where my aunt used to sit, giving unsolicited advice about marriage and God.
It felt strange knowing I wouldn't wake up here again.
By the time my father's car pulled into the compound, I was standing outside with my Ghana-Must-Go bag, my small box, and the tote that held my life's essentials: charger, face cream, and most importantly groundnut.
My cousins crowded around me.
"Send me dollars!" one shouted.
"Bring iPhone!" another yelled.
I rolled my eyes. "Yes, yes. I will send you Beyoncé's wig too."
When Dad got out of the car, dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, I blinked. It was still weird seeing him in person after years of phone calls that came only once in a while.
"You're ready?" he asked.
"Physically, yes," I said, dragging my bag toward the boot. "Mentally, I suppose dey craze."
He sighed. "Let's go."
The drive to the airport was quick, but my eyes stayed glued to the window. The chaos of Lagos traffic, the women balancing baskets on their heads, the street hawkers chasing cars with Gala sausage rolls. I wondered if Seoul had anything like this.
Probably not.
_______
Twelve hours later, I stepped off the plane in Seoul and was immediately attacked by the air.
It smelled… clean. Like somebody had ironed it. I took one deep breath and coughed immediately. "Chineke, are you sure this oxygen is not filtered? My lungs are confused. Why we no get dis kind air for Nigeria."
My father ignored me the way only a parent used to my mouth could. He adjusted his carry-on and kept walking. I dragged my suitcase behind me like it was my coffin.
"Daniella, hurry," he called over his shoulder.
"Affa relax oh. Do you want me to fly? After twelve hours in that stupid aeroplane, squashed between you and that uncle who snored like he was chasing demons in his dream? My legs are still in Lagos."
The airport was big, shiny, and full of people who walked like they were late for something important. My wrapper-wearing ancestors were watching me from heaven like, our child has entered film.
During check out, the man checking passport stared at me like I was mad. He looked at my passport then at me then at the passport again then at my father.
I rolled my eyes. "Oga ohh! Wetin?"
My father stepped in immediately offering a small smile. He said something in Korean, the man nodded. He stamped the passport and gave it back to me. We went to get our luggages.
"You have to be a little more polite." Dad said as he picked up my ghana-must-go.
"I'm being polite. Nigeria way.".
He just rolled his eyes.
_________
By the time we reached the exit, a woman who I immediately concluded was my father's wife was already waving at us.
She was small, pretty, and wearing a pink coat that looked like it cost more than my aunt's entire kitchen. She gave me a warm smile and said something in Korean.
"Sorry," I said. "I only speak English and sarcasm."
Dad just sighed and said; "She said it's really nice to meet you."
"Who talk that one?" I asked my father but he just ignored me.
So I diverted my attention to the other people with her. Beside her was a tall boy, probably around eighteen, wearing black from head to toe and holding his phone like it was more important than any human in the vicinity.
"That's Min-jun, your older stepbrother," my father said.
I gave him my brightest fake smile. "Hello. I'm Daniella. Your new sister."
His eyebrows twitched, but he didn't reply. Cool.
Then I saw them - the twins. Two miniature chaos agents, probably ten, grinning like they'd already planned five ways to annoy me.
"These are Joon-ho and Joon-sung," my father said.
"Hi, Daniella!" they chorused in accents so cute I almost forgave them for existing and decided they are my new favorite.
___________
The car was a sleek black van with seats that felt like marshmallows. I sat in the back with the twins, and I quickly learned two things:
1. Joon-ho was the loud one.
2. Joon-sung was the weirder one.
"Do you know BTS?" Joon-ho asked before my seatbelt was even clicked.
"Yes," I said. "I have a cousin that will push Davido off a cliff for them."
He gasped. "You like them?"
I smiled. "I like their music."
Joon-sung leaned toward me. "Do you know kimchi?"
"I know it's spicy," I said. "And I know I don't understand why it's not yoruba food."
He giggled like I'd told him a bad joke, then offered me a stick of something that looked like dried fish. I stared at it.
"Why does it smell like the ocean died?"
"It's yummy," he said.
"I'll take your word for it."
Up front, my father and his wife were talking quietly in Korean. Min-jun sat beside the driver, scrolling on his phone like we were all invisible.
The twins kept firing questions at me:
"Do you play video games?"
"Why is your hair like that?"
"Can you say 'oppa'?"
I finally raised my hands. "One question at a time, abeg. My brain is not Wi-Fi."
By the time we pulled up to the house, my head was spinning from their energy.
____________
When I saw it, I stopped in my tracks.
It looked like something from a drama; white walls, big glass windows, a little garden with tiny stone paths.
"This is not a house," I said. "This wan na movie set."
"It's your new home," my father said.
I looked at him. "Hmm. Okay oh."
Inside, it was even worse. Shiny floors. Perfect furniture. A kitchen with a fridge that opened like it was greeting you personally.
The stepmom showed me my room - a soft bed, big desk, and curtains the color of strawberries.
I flopped onto the bed dramatically. "This is nice. Very nice. God abeg. My village people go dey vex. I dey enjoy oh."
The twins burst into giggles. Min-jun just muttered something in Korean.