Chapter 22

“Alone, at this hour?”

Yaein should have insisted—should have kept lying.  

But her lips felt sealed shut.  

Taeheon watched her, a faint smirk curling at the edge of his lips.  

It almost looked like mockery.  

“Are you planning to stay in there forever?”

Their eyes met through the glass.  

Even with the barrier between them, his gaze was sharp—too clear, too inescapable.

There was no way out.  

Yaein reached for the door handle and pushed it open.  

The moment she did, his arm was already there—waiting.  

He grabbed hold of her, pulling her toward him.  

As she stumbled out of the driver’s seat, her balance wavered, but Taeheon steadied her effortlessly.  

Pressed against his chest, she felt the deep, heavy rhythm of a heartbeat.  

Was it his? Or hers?

No—it had to be hers.

Looking up at his expression—cold, detached, unreadable—she was certain.  

He wasn’t flustered.  

He wasn’t angry.  

He was just… there.

A weight settled over her shoulders.  

It wasn’t until he draped his coat around her that she realized she had been shaking.  

Even his coat felt heavy—stiff and oppressive.  

Like she might sink under its weight.

“Give me the keys.”

“What, do you think I’ll try to get back in the car and drive away?”  

“No.”  

He took the keys from her grasp with ease.  

Then, he walked to the trunk and popped it open.  

Yaein watched in mute horror as he pulled out her suitcase.  

The one she had packed so carefully.  

The only things she had chosen for herself.  

Now, it was being loaded into his car, as if none of this had ever been hers to begin with.  

He opened the passenger door and looked at her.  

An invitation.

No—a command.

“Won’t you just let me go?”

The plea scraped out of her throat, desperate and raw.  

Staring at the gaping car door, she felt like she was being swallowed whole.  

“I don’t want anything from you. I’ll just live quietly, far away from your family.”

Taeheon didn’t bother listening for long.  

“We’ll talk at home.”

Home.  

The word made her stomach turn.  

The fish cake she had eaten with such relief threatened to rise back up.  

Swallowing down the nausea, Yaein stepped into his car.  

It’s fine. It’s fine.

She tried to convince herself, just like before.  

But her head spun.

***

The doorway felt too narrow.

The entryway, the hallway—everything seemed to close in around her, twisting and shifting like a distorted maze.  

Even the living room felt off. 

The lighting, the sofa—as if they had been replaced with copies of themselves.

As soon as she sat down, her body sank—like she might fall forever.

“How did you know?”

Her own voice sounded strange.  

As if it wasn’t hers at all.  

As if her senses had taken a step back, watching from a distance.  

“Why did you think I wouldn’t?”

Taeheon responded casually, flipping through the divorce papers she had left behind.  

“Your face has been screaming that you wanted to run.”

Had it really been that obvious?  

Even before *she* had fully realized her decision—even in the moments when **she hadn’t yet admitted it to herself—**  

Had he already known?  

Yaein shrugged off his coat.  

It felt suffocating.

“We can’t keep living like this. Are you just going to keep watching me forever? Dragging me back every time?”

“If I have to.”

“Taeheon!”

Her voice broke as she yelled. 

But he didn’t waver.  

He simply tore the divorce papers in half.

The sound of ripping paper scraped against her ears—ugly, grating, absolute.

“Who is he?”  

Yaein blinked.  

“…What?” 

“The man.”

Taeheon’s voice was calm. Too calm.

“The one you were running away to meet. Who is he?”

Yaein’s lips parted, unable to comprehend what he was saying.  

“Who made you—of all people—so reckless? Who turned Lee Yaein, a saintly little nun, into someone who’d sneak off in the middle of the night?”

The meaning of his words finally clicked.  

She almost laughed.  

He thinks I—

Her expression twisted.  

This is how you see me?

After all these years—after all her love, all her silence—this is what you thought of me?

That she was the kind of woman who would cheat?

That she could throw herself at someone else so easily?

She bit down on her lip, hard.  

But the pain was nothing.  

Not compared to this.

“I’ve never been with another man.”

“Then what’s this?”

Taeheon tossed a stack of papers onto the table.  

They scattered before her eyes.  

She knew what they were before she even read them.  

Her breath caught in her throat.  

How?

The words slipped out before she could stop them.  

Taeheon smirked.  

That single reaction alone—it told her everything.

He had dug through her life.

Of course, he had.  

She should have expected it.  

Yaein lowered the papers back onto the table.  

What was the point?  

Even if she explained—

Even if she told him the truth—

Nothing would change.

Taeheon would still refuse to let her go.  

This marriage would still be over.

So she lied.

“You’re right.”

She bowed her head, keeping her voice steady.  

“I have someone else.”

She forced the words out before she could hesitate.  

“That’s why you should let me go.”

Her words sped up, tumbling out in desperation.  

“You said it yourself, didn’t you? That women who sleep with other men are dirty?

“I broke the vow first. So let’s just say it’s my fault.”

She needed him to believe it.  

Because *as long as he had a reason to doubt—

He would never let her go.

At this crossroads, Yaein chose to surrender.

If she tried to explain, he might uncover the truth about the baby.  

But if she confessed—if she let him believe the lie—maybe it would help him let go. 

Taeheon was obsessive.

Possessive to the point of being unnervingly particular about others.  

He had even made their marriage contract include a **fidelity clause**—demanding that she never sleep with another man.  

A man like that—**he wouldn’t be able to tolerate an unfaithful wife.**  

She couldn’t even bring herself to look at his face now.  

“Do you love him that much?”

The word **love** sounded utterly foreign coming from his mouth.  

Yaein kept her eyes down and **slowly nodded.**  

Pain twisted through her chest.  

Now, he really believed it.

He believed she had cheated.  

“More than me?”

Before she realized it, Taeheon had stepped forward.  

His fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to look up.  

The expression she had tried so hard to conceal was laid bare.  

Yaein forced herself to erase any hesitation.

“Far more than I ever loved you.”

Her voice came out steady.  

“Looking back, I don’t even know if I ever loved you at all.”*

If she didn’t keep talking, she would lose her nerve.  

So she kept going.  

And once she started, it wasn’t difficult.

“Does he love you back? You’re sure he’s not just using you?”

“Now that I’ve experienced real love, I know the difference.”

“I was starved for it my entire life. But when I’m with him—

“I’m happy.”

It was easy to fabricate.  

Because these were all things she had longed for.

Things she had spent a lifetime wishing she could say.

Would she ever truly know what it felt like—to be loved?

Probably not.  

Yaein looked straight at Taeheon.  

“So let me go.”

Her voice sharpened.  

“I did everything you wanted.

“You kept me locked up here and used me as you pleased.

“I deserve to be happy.” 

She jerked her head back, breaking his grip.

His gaze darkened.  

“You’re right.”

A long silence stretched between them.  

For a moment, she almost believed it was over.  

That this hell was finally ending.  

That they could stop destroying each other and simply walk away.  

“Then…”

“That doesn’t mean I have to let you go.”

Taeheon shattered that illusion with ease.  

He had no intention of stopping.

No matter how much she begged.

“Tell me who he is.”

It was a command.  

Yaein licked her dry lips.  

How was she supposed to name someone who didn’t exist?

“…What would you do if I told you?” 

“Make him pay.”

Yaein’s stomach dropped.  

There was no misunderstanding his meaning.  

Taeheon could do anything.

Unlike her, he had power.

He had connections, resources—no one could stop him.

“You’re so easy to handle.”

His fingers skimmed her cheek, almost affectionate.  

Almost amused.

“You can’t do a thing when someone else is at risk.”

His voice was light, almost teasing.  

But his expression was utterly devoid of emotion.

He didn’t care.

Not about what she wanted.  

Not about who he had to hurt.  

There was no lover.

But there is someone she needed to protect.  

She clenched her arms tighter—forcing herself not to shield her stomach.

Because if Taeheon ever found out—  

If he learned about the baby—

She had no idea what he would do.

“You said you love him, right?”

“That means he’s your weakness now.”

His voice was smooth. So certain.

“You married me for your grandmother’s sake.

“So staying with me to protect your lover…

“Shouldn’t be that hard.”

Taeheon pressed an old cell phone into Yaein’s hand.  

“Call him.”

It was an order.  

“Call him and tell him you’re not coming.”

Yaein shook her head violently.

Taeheon didn’t press her further.  

“Fine. I’ll do it.”  

Instead, he snatched the phone from her grasp.

She lunged to take it back, but he had already pressed the call button.  

Cold terror surged through her.

If the call connected, everything she had tried to hide—everything she had built her escape around— would come crashing down.  

The phone rang.  

**Once.

**Twice.**  

**Silence.**  

No one answered.  

Yaein’s breath left her in a sharp, trembling exhale.  

Her heart still pounded painfully in her chest, but relief settled heavily over her.  

For the first time, she was grateful for how unreliable he was at answering calls.  

Because if Taeheon **found out who it was—**  

If he knew, **he would use that person against her without hesitation.**  

And once that happened, she would **never** be able to escape.  

More than anything—**she just didn’t want Taeheon to know.**  

Not about *him.*  

Not about *them.*  

“Don’t hurt him.”

Her voice was firm, but she could hear the raw desperation behind it.  

“If you do, I won’t forgive you.”

Taeheon set the phone down.  

Yaein inhaled sharply.  

He looked the same—**blank, emotionless—**but something about him felt **entirely different.**  

Like she was looking at a **stranger.**  

She had always known his cruelty.  

But this wasn’t just **cold indifference.**  

It was **dangerous.**  

For the first time, **she truly believed him.**  

All those times he had said, “I’m not a good man. I’m not the kind of person you should trust.”

This—**this moment—**was what he had been warning her about.  

Slowly, Taeheon lowered himself to her level, locking eyes with her.  

His gaze didn’t even flicker.  

His pupils were **black, bottomless—**as if they swallowed all the light around them.  

He reached out and **grasped her arm.**  

“Don’t forgive me.”

The words were **casual.**  

Effortless.  

As if he had never once expected her forgiveness to begin with.  

His fingers tightened, pressing into her skin.  

“I never hoped for it anyway.”

Yaein barely had time to react before **he pulled her up.**  

Easily.  

Effortlessly.  

Like she **weighed nothing at all.** 

***

The brightly lit bedroom had all its curtains drawn.  

Without a view of the outside, it was impossible to tell whether it was day or night.  

Exposed under the harsh lighting, Yaein clenched her lips shut.  

Her bare skin was flushed in patches, a soft pink hue spreading across her body.  

Sweat clung to her, making her skin damp—though certain spots were particularly wet.  

“I told you not to hold back your voice.”

Taeheon lifted his head from between her legs.  

His fingers slid effortlessly into her, pressing into the swollen flesh that had been teased and sucked until it was puffy and red. 

It had been like this the whole time—his mouth, his hands, relentlessly torturing her.  

How long had it been?  

It felt like a brief moment.  

It felt like **an eternity.**  

Her sense of time had crumbled, along with her grasp on reality.  

“Nngh… hnn… haah…”

Soft, breathy whimpers spilled from her lips.  

Her brain felt **like it was melting.** 

A foolish thought crossed her mind—**that something inside her was truly breaking.**