Then she reached for him.
He embraced her so tightly that Ji-eun gently reminded him to let her breathe.
He laughed shakily.
Then began crying.
Soo-bin held his face between her small hands.
"아빠, 나 괜찮아."
Dad, I'm okay.
He nodded.
"알아. 아빠가 왔어."
I know. Dad's here.
For several minutes, they remained together.
Then Soo-bin told him about the woman.
The Black woman who spoke Korean.
The woman who stayed beside her when the station became frightening.
The woman who sang her mother's favorite song.
Min-jae listened carefully.
He had known that his daughter sometimes avoided hearing music associated with her mother because it brought back difficult memories.
Now she was talking about a song with unexpected warmth.
He asked whether she knew the woman's name.
Soo-bin looked toward her aunt.
Ji-eun shook her head sadly.
"She told me, but I was so frightened I didn't save it properly."
She remembered the name sounded like Nia.
Perhaps Mia.
And the woman spoke Korean with a slight American accent.
Min-jae felt a deep gratitude toward someone he couldn't identify.
He asked his staff to contact the appropriate authorities and determine whether a message of thanks could be delivered without intruding on the volunteer's privacy.
They made inquiries.
But the available information was limited.
And the young woman had already returned to her ordinary life.
The video became precious to Soo-bin.
A family friend found the short recording online and sent it to Ji-eun.
The child's face was visible.
So was the outline of the young woman kneeling beside her.
But the most important part was the voice.
Soo-bin watched it repeatedly.
Sometimes she played the video before school.
Sometimes before bed.
And sometimes on evenings when she missed her mother so much that she couldn't explain the feeling.
Min-jae initially worried the recording would keep his daughter attached to a frightening memory.
But her therapist helped him understand that the clip could also represent a successful moment of safety and support.
The woman in the recording didn't replace Soo-bin's mother.
She offered comfort during a difficult experience.
And Soo-bin remembered that comfort.
The child began calling her "the singing sister."
She asked her father whether they would ever meet again.
Min-jae promised to make reasonable efforts to find her.
But he didn't promise something he couldn't control.
Seoul had millions of residents.
Visitors came and went.
And an unidentified volunteer who chose not to seek publicity could be difficult to locate without invading her privacy.
Months passed.
The family moved forward.