Chapter 25

Even when watching a movie, Taeheon found himself dwelling only on the most striking moments.  

His childhood came to him in scattered fragments. The sequence was jumbled, making it difficult to determine what had come first. But the order hardly mattered.  

Whether it was his mother, throwing a child onto the kitchen floor and pouring cooking oil over his skin, or his father, bringing down a heavy ashtray against his temple—it made no difference which had happened first.  

They were mere annotations to his scars.  

Burns on the back, inflicted by the mother before the age of eight.  

The injuries from work had come later—cuts and blunt force wounds.  

They layered upon one another like geological strata.  

To live was to be wounded. Life was an accumulation of injuries, the layering of scars. Taeheon had accepted that truth long ago.  

Having experienced it all, nothing frightened him anymore.  

But what was this?  

Taeheon wondered as he watched Yaein.  

She sat blankly at the table, soaking in the sunlight. The book she usually carried like a shield lay abandoned far from her reach.  

It seemed as though the light would pass straight through her, dissolving her completely. It made him restless just to watch.  

What should he call this? A wound that left no mark on flesh or bone, yet rotted him from the inside out.  

It was like dousing himself in oil and striking a match—his organs burning in a slow, relentless fire.  

He remembered the scent of ash and flames from his childhood, curled up in the kitchen.  

His veins shrank, his flesh seared, warping irreversibly.  

Yaein pulled a glass toward her, swallowed a mouthful of water—then abruptly clamped a hand over her mouth.  

“Ugh…”  

Her face twisted in pain before she bolted to the bathroom.  

Following after her, he found her hunched over the toilet, her frail back convulsing.  

He knelt beside her, reaching to gather her hair so it wouldn’t fall into the mess, but she shook her head.  

“I’m fine… I’m fine, just… leave me alone.”  

Her push was weak, utterly powerless.  

Taeheon let his gaze roam over her thin, pallid face.  

She had already seemed impossibly small, yet in just a few days, she had withered further.  

She slept like the dead, and whatever she ate, she threw up. The only time she responded at all was when their bare skin touched.  

If this continued, she would be in danger.  

Taeheon knew it.  

And yet, he did nothing, because he already anticipated the answer a doctor would give.  

The cause and the solution were obvious.  

It was all because of him. 

Yaein simply couldn’t endure being with him any longer.  

“…Haa.”  

Yaein moved to the sink and splashed water over her face, again and again.  

Her damp hair clung to her skin, her bowed neck exposing stark, protruding bones.  

It was a pitiful sight—one that should have filled him with sympathy.  

Yet instead, a sick, twisted hunger clawed at him.  

Why are you trying so desperately to escape me?  

What if he simply held on, watching as she withered away in his grasp?  

Maybe, one day, she would finally accept her fate.  

Taeheon handed her a towel, gently brushing away the strands of hair stuck to her damp forehead and cheeks.

“Let’s go to the hospital.”

Taeheon suggested.

Yaein’s unfocused eyes widened in shock. Her lips parted as well.

“No!”

The unexpected and intense rejection made Taeheon’s brow furrow. Realizing her mistake, Yaein quickly lowered her voice.

“There’s no need to go to the hospital. It’s just an upset stomach. I’ll be fine if I rest.”

It was an attempt at reassurance, but the forced smile and her cracked voice made it unconvincing.

“You’ve been like this for days.”

Is being with me really that unbearable?

He didn’t ask out loud.

He didn’t want to hear the answer. He didn’t want to see Yaein confirm it with her entire body.

“Just change your clothes. I’ll book an appointment right now.”

“Taeheon, please.”

Yaein blocked his path and wrapped her arms around him.

“I really am fine. There’s nothing wrong.”

She stood on her toes and cupped his cheeks. If she was trying to distract him, she succeeded.

Taeheon savored the feeling of her hands on his face. Since the day she had left, this was the first time Yaein had reached out to him first.

As she studied his silent expression, Yaein pressed her lips to his. Their dry lips brushed, crackling with static electricity.

Was it only Taeheon who felt the stinging sensation prickling beneath his skin? Yaein was too focused on kissing him.

Why is she doing this?

What’s her goal? His rational mind questioned. It was obviously suspicious.

Yet, despite knowing, Taeheon leaned in, allowing her lips to trail down his neck. It felt like flower petals brushing his skin.

His veins seemed to come alive beneath the surface. As if, before her touch, they had been dead, and only now, where she kissed, was blood beginning to flow.

“Come here.”

Yaein led him to the sofa. Her paper-thin arms felt as though they had the strength to drag him down, and Taeheon let himself be pulled along.

Just like before, when they had lain entangled on this couch, Yaein climbed on top of him again. A flush spread over her pale cheeks.

That he could feel aroused in this moment—how absurd.

Yaein unbuckled his belt. The metallic click rang in his ears, grating against his nerves.

She has an agenda.

She’s trying to distract me, to stop me from taking her to the hospital.

It was so painfully obvious, yet Taeheon didn’t push her away. He didn’t resist.

“You don’t have to do this.”

He grasped her wrist lightly, as if afraid she might break.

“You don’t look well. You don’t have to force yourself.”

How disgustingly hypocritical.

If he truly meant it, he wouldn’t be sitting here letting it happen. If he really cared, he would have already forced her into the car.

“Do you not want to?” 

Yaein hesitated, looking up at him through thick lashes that cast delicate shadows over her face. Taeheon traced the contours of her features with his gaze, as if engraving them in his mind.

“No.”

Unlike Yaein, Taeheon was incapable of rejecting her.

It was a flaw embedded in his very nature. No matter how many times he died and was reborn, he would never become someone like her.

Featherlight fingers traced down Taeheon’s abdomen, gliding over the ridges of his muscles. The hand that crept lower first brushed against the inside of his thigh.

Tilting her head as if asking for a kiss, Yaein scattered delicate pecks along his skin. A blissful satisfaction coursed through Taeheon’s veins.

Even though he knew she wasn’t doing this because she wanted to. Even though he knew her clumsy seduction was nothing more than a desperate act.

Still, he let himself be swayed.

The sweetness of her touch mixed with a searing pain in his chest. His gaze lingered obsessively on Yein’s face.

What was she thinking right now?

Was she convincing herself that this was someone else’s body—enduring it by pretending he wasn’t him?

Her lowered lashes, the slight tension pulling at her lips… Taeheon’s gaze followed the line of her throat.

He wanted to wrap his fingers around that slender neck.

Taeheon gripped his own wrist, veins standing taut over his skin.

What would have happened if that same force had pressed into her fragile throat?

A dark curiosity flickered in his mind—until, suddenly, Yaein collapsed against his shoulder.

Taeheon instinctively caught her. Her weight was nothing, her body frighteningly light, as if she might crumble away at any moment.

“Lee Yaein.”

He called her name, but there was no response. Panic set in as he reached for her pulse.

It was faint. Too faint.

For a terrifying second, he thought she might disappear entirely.

Taeheon’s vision blurred at the edges. The sofa screeched against the floor as he shot up, Yaein gathered in his arms.

***

The air was familiar. The sterile scent of a hospital. Yaein took a deep breath.

Someone brushed their fingers over her forehead.

“Grandmother…”

Mumbling, she turned her head toward the direction of the touch.

But the palm that came down to rest against her throat was far larger than the hands she remembered.

It was suffocating. The weight that had lightly covered her at first grew heavier. A steady pressure sank down, and Yaein exhaled in shallow breaths as she woke up.

A hospital room came into view. And right beside her, casting a shadow over her, stood her husband.

Taeheon withdrew his hand with an unreadable expression. As his fingers pulled away, she realized what had been pressing against her throat in her half-conscious state. She reached up and rubbed her neck.

“This is… a hospital?”

A wave of unease crashed over her. She moved her arm, and the IV line attached to her wrist swayed.

“You collapsed,” Taeheon said.

Yaein studied him carefully, praying. Please, let him not know. 

“Did they… run any tests?” she asked hesitantly.

Taeheon remained silent for a moment, his face unreadable. Maybe it was just a standard IV treatment. Maybe this time, he hadn’t found out. She clung to the slim chance, grasping at a fragile hope.

“They said the baby is perfectly fine. But the mother needs to be taken care of.”

His voice was the same as before—calm, unaffected. But Yaein turned to ice.

The baby is fine.  

Beyond relief, a tidal wave of terror surged forward. It was like that moment in the dead of night when the blaring sound of a car horn came from behind her.  

Yaein held her breath and fixed her gaze on the hospital blanket. She could see a loose thread. Her mind, desperate to escape the situation, focused on tracing the weave of the fabric.  

“…I’ll explain.”  

Her lips and tongue moved without feeling, as if someone else were speaking through her.  

Where should she start? How should she say it?  

“There’s no need.”  

Taeheon cut off her hesitation immediately.  

Yaein met his gaze. He was composed. Far from angry or shocked.  

Could it be…?

A stubborn, weary hope stirred inside her

Maybe—just maybe—he understood. That everything had been to protect their child. That her desperation, her unwavering love, had never left.  

“I scheduled the surgery for tomorrow.”  

Taeheon spoke.  

She didn’t understand. Only one word echoed in her mind.  

“Surgery? What… what do you mean, surgery?”  

Stammering, Yaein barely managed to form the question.  

Taeheon’s voice remained low and steady, almost soothing as he explained.  

“They said it’s still a simple procedure. I’m worried about your condition, but handling it sooner will make it less of a burden.”  

What… did he just say? 

Handle it?  

As if their baby was something to be discarded like trash?  

Her vision blurred. A wave of dizziness crashed over her. Yein swayed forward, and Taeheon caught her before she collapsed.  

“Don’t touch me!”  

She screamed, her voice sharp, raw.  

“Get away. Don’t—ugh.”  

No matter how much she struggled, she couldn’t push him away.  

Even as she thrashed and fought with everything she had, Taeheon didn’t budge.  

“Why?” he murmured. “Because you wanted to run off to that bastard and raise the baby together? And now you’re losing your mind because it’s not going to happen?”