Winter in Seoul is nothing short of magical, bringing with it the excitement of new beginnings. Or maybe I just feel that way because it was winter when we first moved here. I remember my mom, up to her eyes in cardboard boxes, asked my dad to take me and Leah out for the day so she could try to get us unpacked and settled without two kids running around the house, wreaking havoc. So Appa brought us to the outdoor skating rink downtown. I remember looking up at the buildings that rose up around the rink—City Hall, the Metropolitan Library, the Plaza Hotel—all gleaming white and silver against the gray sky. I felt like I was inside one of Umma’s snow globes from her prized collection. In that moment, all my nerves about moving here, starting a new school, and beginning my training at DB melted away. I felt safe.

These days, when I think “snow globe,” it has an entirely different meaning. It’s what the media calls the Girls Forever villa. A perfect little world in the heart of Cheongdam-dong. Real life, of course, is not quite so idyllic, but the name has stuck anyway. And on days like today, with the sky bright blue and the sun glinting off the thin layer of snow coating our front walk, it actually does feel kind of appropriate.

“Ugh. I am so ready for spring,” Sumin says, pulling her hood tighter around her as she exits the van. “I can barely feel my face.”

Mina taps the code into the keypad on our front door, and the rest of us follow in behind.

Finally. Home sweet home.

Well, kind of.

“Home” used to mean an apartment full of familiar little comforts like vegetable-shaped magnets on the fridge. Walls lined with family photos. Umma sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, folding laundry while watching the news. The sound of Appa singing in the shower at the crack of dawn, getting ready for his day at the boxing gym, or of my younger sister, Leah, padding into my room in bunny-toed slippers, snuggling next to me in bed so we can stay up and gossip all night.

Now home has floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room, an enormous balcony where you can see the Yeongdong Bridge, casting its twinkling lights over the Han River at night, and a walk-in pantry that our managers keep stocked with gourmet snacks and drinks. It’s luxurious, for sure, but even after five and a half years, it doesn’t fully feel like home. Maybe it’s the fact that there are only two bathrooms. Two bathrooms. For nine girls. Who did the math on that?! Had to be a man.