“Ahnyounghaseyo,” I say quickly, bowing my head. “So nice to meet you all. Halmoni, happy birthday.” My heart is thudding in my chest. I glance at the tiny boxes of various Jeons who have dialed into the call, noting a few of the younger family members whispering to each other and nudging each other in the ribs. I hear “Girls Forever!” whisper-shouted from a box in the corner where a girl with a ponytail who looks about ten is sitting on her mom’s lap. Then they realize their mic is on, and immediately switch themselves to mute. Well, guess the cat’s out of the bag.

“Hello, Rachel!” Alex’s mother says, pulling the focus away from the apparent fan. I recognize her right away from the family photos he’s shown me. She has a calm, reassuring vibe, and even through video chat, I feel instantly safer in her presence. “Alex has told us so much about you. Congratulations on the fashion line!”

I bow my head again. “Thank you so much. Alex has been an incredible support.”

“Hello! Hello! Sorry, I’m late. Happy Birthday, Umma.” A bigger man with messy hair and an untucked dress shirt blows into the frame, his webcam jostling as he gets himself situated. Based on the scattered vibe he’s giving off, and the eye rolls I spot from some other Jeons, I get the impression that this is somebody who is often late to family gatherings.

“My uncle Hugh,” Alex whispers to me.

“Work’s been a nightmare. Everyone’s merging and acquiring like it’s going out of style,” Hugh rambles in a blustery rush. “Anyway, what’d I miss?”

There’s a pause, and then eventually Alex’s mother chimes in with, “We were just being introduced to Alex’s girlfriend, Rachel.”

“Oh excellent, where are you, Rachel? How do I get this thing to show everyone at once?”

“Put it on gallery mode, Uncle Hugh!” the ponytailed girl says.

Beside me, Alex starts silently chuckling, and I can’t help but giggle too. “Hi, I’m over here!” I say. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jeon.”

“Ah, there you are. Great to meet you. So Rachel, what do you do? In the finance biz like my nephew here?”

Again, there’s a pause. Incredulous faces fill each frame, and the ponytailed girl looks personally offended.

“Um, I’m a singer,” I say hesitantly.

“Oh, good for you! Best of luck with that—the entertainment industry can be so hard to break into. I know a guy from school—forty-five and still singing in cafés. Pretty sad, really. Oh Nora, I heard you had a monster soccer game last weekend!”