Chapter 13

“That’s not it. I just… I hope you’ll stay well, Mother. When you told me I was like a daughter to you, I think—I think I was foolishly happy sometimes.”  

Yaein hadn’t intended to say this. She didn’t want to sound like she was begging for sympathy. She didn’t want to leave this conversation feeling utterly despised.  

And yet, now that the moment had come, she found herself longing for forgiveness. If she apologized sincerely—if she truly meant it—would she be granted even the smallest bit of grace? Would Gyeongju, even for a moment, understand that Yaein had no other choice?  

“I know you meant it,” Yaein continued, her voice soft but steady. “I know you were sincere with me. And I’m grateful for everything you did after I married into this family. I just wanted to say that. I’m sorry I disappointed you.”  

Even though her life in this house had been built on a lie, there were fleeting moments of real happiness. She had cherished the times she spent with Gyeongju, even as she constantly feared the inevitable day when the truth would come out.  

Gyeongju’s face hardened. Her red lips parted slightly, as if she was about to say something.  

Yaein held her breath and waited.

“Do you think saying this now will change what you did?”  

Gyeongju’s voice, which had briefly held a note of concern, sharpened again, piercing straight through Yaein’s heart.  

“Excuses or not, what you did is still what you did. If you really believed I was sincere, you should have told me the truth yourself.”  

Her words grew faster, more relentless, before she suddenly paused, her voice lowering slightly.  

“If you had confessed it to me yourself, I wouldn’t have treated you that way.”  

Yaein’s head dropped.  

Because she knew it was true.  

She had thought about telling Gyeongju. There were moments—when Gyeongju would jokingly sigh that she never expected to have a daughter in her lifetime, or when she would gently squeeze Yaein’s shoulder—when Yaein had wanted to believe she could say it. That it might be okay.  

But—  

“I was scared.”  

Scared of what would happen after she spoke.  

Scared of clinging on, only to be abandoned.  

Scared of believing in kindness, only to have it turned against her.  

Because that had always been her life.  

“You kept your mouth shut, and now you act like you’re the one who’s hurt?” Gyeongju scoffed. “You’re still the same. Wrapping things up like it’s all over, saying thank you, saying sorry, just so you can walk away with a clear conscience. Do you think that’s enough?”  

Yaein had no way to argue.  

She had only dared to be honest now because it was already over.  

It was the same reason she had never asked Gyeongju about Taeheon. She had been too afraid—afraid that if she showed interest, if she asked questions, Taeheon would see through her. That Gyeongju would find her annoying.  

Yaein nodded slightly.  

“…Are you really sure nothing else is going on?”  

After a long silence, Gyeongju spoke again.  

“You’re telling me you’re leaving just because I and your father-in-law made your life hell? That’s the only reason?”  

Yaein lifted her head, meeting Gyeongju’s gaze.  

If she was going to say it, it had to be now.  

I’m pregnant.  

I have no idea what to do.  

Mother, can you help me? Please?  

The weight of her secrets clogged her throat. It felt like she would suffocate if she didn’t say them out loud.  

“…There’s nothing else.”

But Yaein lied.  

Gyeongju’s expression twisted slightly. It shouldn’t have, but to Yaein, it looked exactly like the disappointment of someone who knew the truth.  

“…Alright.”  

Just a simple response, yet Yaein’s heart plummeted. Her lips parted slightly, her throat tightening with the weight of words she couldn’t bring herself to say.  

“Then go.”  

Gyeongju had already turned away.  

Yaein bit her lip and nodded faintly.  

The hallway remained the same as before. As she descended the floors, she found it surprisingly easy to hold back her tears. She was used to it by now.  

She stepped out of the hospital and got into a taxi. Today, she had intentionally avoided using the driver. If she was going to discuss the divorce, it didn’t feel right to rely on anything provided by Taeheon’s family.  

Yaein pulled out her phone.  

There were a few messages from Serin, as well as replies from acquaintances responding to her notice that she would no longer be attending their gatherings. Some were disappointed, some merely acknowledged it with polite words.  

Then, she reached into the depths of her handbag and took out another phone.  

It was an old, outdated model, locked with a passcode. When she entered the code, the default home screen appeared, unchanged.  

A single new message awaited her.  

[Thanks for last time. Do you think you could help me out a little more?]  

The message, sent from an unsaved number, held her gaze for a long time.  

Yaein traced her finger over the neatly displayed letters, pressing against the screen as if trying to absorb the meaning through touch.  

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. Then, grasping her forehead, she let out a slow, shuddering breath as a headache crept in.  

[Of course. Let’s talk soon.]  

She sent the reply, hesitating for a moment before typing more.  

Are you doing well?  

Are you in pain anywhere?  

I just had a really hard day.  

She typed and deleted, over and over again.  

She wanted to tell someone. But there was no one she could.  

In the end, Yaein sent nothing.

***

Sometimes, even having a home to return to feels unfamiliar.  

It was especially so when stepping through the door. Just crossing a single sheet of metal, the space beyond became something entirely different.  

Yaein paused as she carefully placed her shoes in order.  

Someone was sitting on the sofa.  

The first thing she noticed were the long legs. Even while seated, he maintained a sharp, upright posture with no sign of relaxation.  

He was the owner of this space.  

Taeheon turned his head toward her.  

This was the second time today that Yein found herself thinking, *He shouldn’t be here at this hour.* First at Serin’s gallery, and now here.  

“Why are you home right now?”  

“You went to see my father.”  

She had expected the news to reach him quickly. Ever since they got married, it had been nearly impossible to go anywhere without him finding out.  

What she hadn’t expected was for Taeheon to react by coming home early.  

“I hadn’t been able to visit him once,” she replied, keeping her voice calm as she removed her coat. “And I thought I should tell him about the divorce in person.”  

“When did I ever agree to divorce you?”  

Taeheon grabbed her wrist as she tried to walk past him.  

“Taeheon, this is over.”  

“Who decided that?”  

“Our marriage ended a year ago.”

For an entire year, all she heard was talk of divorce. Yet now that she was the one saying she wanted it, no one was willing to accept it. Not her in-laws, not even her husband.

“Your father was worried about alimony, so I told him I wouldn’t take it if he didn’t want to give it. Do whatever you want with it.”

She said it with spite. *I’m giving you exactly what you wanted, yet all your father cares about is money.* She had never once complained about how hard things were, but now, she wanted to—at least in this way.

Taeheon simply furrowed his brows.  

Yaein knew her words had struck a nerve. When it came to his father, Taeheon was particularly sensitive.  

“If you have nothing else to say, I’ll go wash up.”  

“I do.”  

Taeheon tilted his head slightly, his gaze locking onto hers. Even as he reached for something on the sofa with his free hand, his eyes never left her.  

“This.”  

The moment she saw what he placed on the table, her heart plummeted.  

A pregnancy test.  

“Why was this in your closet?”  

“You went through my things?”  

“Answer first.”  

Yaein clenched her fist behind her back.  

The only small relief was that the test Taeheon held was still sealed, unused.  

When her period was late, she bought a test out of anxiety. After seeing the result, she had rushed to the pharmacy, grabbing several more in a daze.  

Just recalling that day made her heartbeat quicken.  

She distinctly remembered throwing out the used tests. That day had been such a blur that she hadn’t realized she had left an unused one behind.  

Had she forgotten anything else?  

“I just bought it to check. My period was late. We’ve always been careful, but you never know.”  

She worried her voice might tremble, but it sounded steadier than expected.  

“Did you take it?”  

“As you can see, I didn’t even open it. My cycle was just a bit off. I guess I was too exhausted. I should’ve thrown it away but forgot.”  

She thought she had covered it well.  

But when she cautiously looked at Taeheon, she met his piercing gaze, and a chill ran down her spine.  

“You’re sure?”  

“Yes.”  

“You said it yourself. If you suddenly start pushing this hard to leave, of course, I’d think there’s a reason.”  

Suspicion was still clear in his expression.  

Yaein sat beside him.  

When she placed her hand on his forehead, he flinched slightly, despite having been staring at her the entire time.  

“You just don’t want to accept that we’re over. So you keep looking for excuses.”

A diagonal scar, about two finger joints long, ran along Taeheon’s temple. It was hidden beneath his hair, but just by tracing the scar, Yaein could almost see the streak of blood that must have flowed down his cheek when he was injured.  

There were many hidden scars on her husband’s body. The one on his head, the burn on his back… all of them were old wounds.  

During the holidays, when his father raged about throwing Yaein out immediately, Taeheon had argued with him. The ceramic object his father had thrown had narrowly missed Taeheon’s head and shattered against the wall.  

But what shocked Yaein more than the violent crash was Taeheon’s complete lack of reaction. As if he had expected it. As if he had endured it dozens of times before.  

It was then that she realized where his scars had come from.  

“I didn’t understand it on our first meeting, but now I think I know why you chose me back then. You hated your father too, didn’t you?”  

Just as Yaein had tried to confess everything to Taeheon that day, he must have wanted to betray his father.  

To turn against the man who had hurt him.  

Yaein withdrew her hand from Taeheon’s head.  

“You’ve used me however you wanted, so now let me go.”  

She pleaded earnestly before stepping away from the sofa. Taeheon remained frozen, his expression stiff.  

Then, suddenly, he sprang up and blocked her path.  

“You love me.”  

His voice, full of certainty, struck her heart like a blade.  

Of course, he knew. How could he not? Taeheon had been by her side for four years. There was no way he wouldn’t see something so obvious.  

Yein pressed down on her chest, as if that would somehow ease the pain.  

“I did love you.”  

Even though he knew, he had never truly looked at her.  

“But you never did, did you?”  

Taeheon’s eyes twitched, his face briefly contorting as if in pain.  

But it was so fleeting that Yaein wondered if she had imagined it. His expression quickly smoothed over.  

“Love doesn’t matter. In the end, all relationships are transactions. Then or now, I’m still the most beneficial person for you.”

“It’s that transaction I don’t want anymore.”  

“What will you do without me?”  

That was a good question.  

Since graduating, she had lived only as Taeheon’s wife. What kind of life would she have outside of this marriage? How would she survive, especially while raising a child alone?