Chapter 43

“That right there is the heart. And this is the nuchal translucency. If it’s too wide, there’s a higher chance of chromosomal abnormalities, but it looks just fine.”

The baby’s heart was beating. On the screen, the baby moved. It was a sight so incredible that Yaein was completely captivated.

She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again. Overwhelmed with emotion, her eyes grew hot with tears. The baby had been growing well all this time.

There was nothing she had done better in her life than protecting this child.

The doctor continued explaining things, mentioning that they would contact her if any additional tests were necessary based on her results. But most of it barely registered in Yaein’s ears.

As they left the consultation room, she received several ultrasound pictures. The black-and-white images contained tiny white text detailing the baby’s head circumference, femur length, and heart rate.

Holding the ultrasound pictures carefully, Yaein gently traced the rounded shape in the monochrome image with her fingers before looking up at Taeheon. She had forgotten her resentment and smiled brightly.

But just as quickly, the expression on her face darkened.

Taeheon looked beyond uncomfortable now—he looked angry.

For Yaein, this was a moment of pure joy. But for Taeheon, it was a moment that ruined his mood. She understood the gap between them but didn’t want to accept it.

Even inside the elevator, Taeheon didn’t glance at her once, keeping his eyes fixed on the door.

The silence was heavy.

“I’ll come alone next time.”

Yaein couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“If you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to sit through it. I’m more comfortable being by myself anyway.”

Taeheon remained silent. The elevator arrived at the first floor.

“What if something happens while you’re alone?”

“What could possibly happen? I don’t know anyone here, and the streets are busy.”

Yaein’s voice was firm. This time, he didn’t bother denying that he didn’t want to be there. The realization stung.

And suddenly, she remembered. 

The very first reason she decided to leave Taeheon was because she never wanted her child to feel the pain of being denied.

The words that had followed her in her hometown—the whispers that she had ruined her mother’s and grandmother’s lives—the disapproving stares from people whose faces she could no longer remember but whose expressions remained vivid.

Heat rushed to her face, and she lowered her head.

“I’ll go ahead.”

Without looking at Taeheon, she walked out of the building. The parking lot was a block away.

Will he always be like this?

If he never changed, would she be able to endure it?

What if he still rejected the child after they were born? Just keeping them safe wouldn’t be enough. Right now, while the baby was still inside her, it was just barely tolerable. But once they were born, safety alone wouldn’t be enough.

She felt trapped again.

Even as she walked through open streets, she felt just as suffocated as when she had been inside the elevator. Her racing heartbeat irritated her.

Without realizing it, she began walking faster. 

She spotted a crosswalk leading between buildings.

What if I just ran?

If she crossed as soon as the light changed and hid inside any random building—she already knew how that would end, yet she still imagined it. Her heels tensed.

“Yaein!”

The voice tripped her feet. Stumbling, she almost fell, but Taeheon caught her.

She hadn’t realized he was right behind her.

But it wasn’t Taeheon who had called her name.

It was an older woman’s voice.

Yaein swallowed hard, her throat tightening painfully, and turned toward the sound.

“I got out of the taxi and was heading to the restaurant we agreed on, and there you were, right in front of me.”

Miryung was panting shallowly. It seemed she had hurried to follow Yaein as soon as she spotted her, perhaps sensing the unusual atmosphere surrounding her.

Right, she was supposed to meet her mother after the check-up. She had completely forgotten.

Her mother was dressed just as she had been on the day they reunited. Muted colors, neatly tied hair, and a somber expression—Yaein now recognized this look all too well. She knew exactly what it meant.

“That’s your husband, isn’t it?”  

Miryung forced an exaggerated smile, stretching her cheeks unnaturally high. Fine lines spread beneath her eyes like spiderwebs.  

She looked affectionate, like a mother happily greeting her long-lost daughter.  

It was the first time Yaein had ever seen such an expression on her mother’s face.  

And that made it even sadder.  

“The restaurant is just over there. We can go together now.”  

Miryung stepped closer and grabbed Yaein’s hand. On reflex, Yaein yanked it away.  

Her mother looked startled. Yaein could only breathe heavily, unable to say anything. There had been so many things she had planned to say when they met again, but now, standing in front of her, her mind was blank.  

“What’s wrong?”  

Miryung reached out again, this time for Yaein’s sleeve. But before Yaein could even push her away, Taeheon intervened, prying Miryung’s hand off.  

Miryung, confused, rubbed the back of her hand as if she couldn’t understand what was happening. 

‘You sold me.You just stood there and watched as they dragged me into that car.’

“What happened to the baby clothes?”  

Yaein demanded abruptly.  

Miryung’s expression finally shifted into genuine surprise.  

“You dropped them. What did you do with them? Did you pick them up?”  

Without giving her mother a chance to answer, Yaein pushed forward, her breath quickening. The bridge of her nose stung.

“If you still have them, give them back. They belong to my child.”  

She pressed her palm against her stomach as she spoke. It felt as though she was burning from the inside out, afraid that the fire inside her might even reach the baby. But she couldn’t control the fury that had already ignited.  

“Yaein, I came today to explain everything.”  

“What is there to explain? No matter what excuse you give, I won’t accept it. Don’t expect me to.”  

She hadn’t planned to argue in the middle of the street. She had wanted to be calm, to confront her mother with a cold, unshaken expression.  

“I know you’re upset, but let’s go inside somewhere and—”  

Miryung didn’t look remorseful. She only seemed eager to calm Yaein down, to smooth things over.  

The rush of emotion Yaein had felt watching her baby move on the ultrasound screen surged back, but in a completely different form.  

“I haven’t even given birth yet, and I already love this child so much. How is it that you never once wanted to see me?”  

Had her mother never seen the tiny, floating baby that was once her? Had she not wanted to see her even then?  

“Of course I wanted to see you. But I was ashamed…”  

“Don’t lie.”  

Yaein cut her off without hesitation.  

“I heard everything. You said I wasn’t even like a child to you.” 

Miryung’s face turned ashen the moment she realized Yaein was referring to the conversation she had with her lover back at home.  

Seeing her mother flustered after being caught made Yaein’s rage surge. It was a fury she hadn’t been able to release back then.  

“How could you?” Yaein’s voice trembled. “I spent my whole childhood staring at the front gate. Wondering if maybe, just maybe, you’d come back because you missed me. Maybe you’d come on my birthday.”  

If she had just come for a moment and held her, Yaein could have lived on that single memory forever. She could have told herself that her mother had loved her despite everything, that it was just the circumstances that were cruel. Maybe then she could have accepted the love her grandmother gave her more completely.  

She had tried so hard to convince herself it was okay. She had been foolish enough to believe that if her mother had given her even a sliver of warmth, it might have been enough.  

“But you lived in your father’s house, didn’t you? Thanks to me, you grew up in a nice home.”  

Miryung, unable to argue, changed the subject.  

Yaein clawed at her own chest, as if she wanted to rip it open and show her mother the rotting wounds inside. Would she finally understand if she could see it with her own eyes?  

“What was nice about it? Do you even know what a nightmare that house was?” Yaein’s voice cracked with anger. “I got beaten for no reason, starved, insulted. Grandma worked as a servant without even getting paid, all because of me. But you… you never thought about us.”  

Not once had she asked if Yaein had suffered. Not once had she acknowledged it. All she did was make excuses. All she ever talked about was money.  

And yet, she had rushed here for her lover’s sake.  

She could have come.  

“I was just a kid too!”  

Miryung suddenly shouted.  

Yaein flinched at the sheer force behind her voice. For a moment, it felt like her mother might actually shove her.  

Maybe this was her mother’s real face.  

Yaein had always wondered. Had her mother ever truly wanted her? Or had she resented her from the very beginning?  

“I know.” Yaein’s voice was eerily calm. “That’s why I tried to understand why you left me. You must have had a hard time too. But…” She exhaled shakily. “I can’t understand why you abandoned me twice.”  

She didn’t have to do that. If she never wanted to see Yaein, she could have just turned her away. That would have been kinder. But instead, she had taken Yaein into her home—only to use her.  

“You thought just because I stayed quiet, everything was fine, didn’t you? You thought it was okay to treat me however you wanted.”  

The words spilled from her lips like a dam breaking. She had thought them a thousand times, but now they were out in the open, the weight inside her chest felt unbearably empty.  

Miryung opened and closed her mouth, unable to respond.  

“You wouldn’t even do this to a stray dog. Even people who abandon their pets sometimes regret it. But you—” Yaein’s voice broke. “You never even looked for me.”  

Her mother had not only thrown her away, but now, she had thrown away her grandchild too.  

And that hurt the most.  

She couldn’t even show her mother the ultrasound photo she had so carefully kept.  

“You never once saved me. Not even once. Just once would have been enough. So don’t ever ask me to save you.”  

She had spent her whole life trying. Trying to be good enough, to be useful enough, so that maybe—just maybe—her mother would love her.  

But it didn’t matter.  

Her vision blurred, her mother’s face becoming hazy.  

“I won’t forgive you.”  

That was what she wanted to say.  

She had spent her whole life clinging to this woman, but even she had a breaking point. Unlike what her mother might think, Yaein wouldn’t just let her come back and shake her world whenever she pleased.  

She blinked away the moisture in her eyes. No tears fell.  

When her vision cleared, her mother stood before her, unscathed.  

It was disappointing.  

She wanted her to be hurt. She wanted her to feel even a fraction of the devastation she had lived through. She wanted her to beg for forgiveness.  

Yaein hated that she felt this way. Hated that her mother’s existence forced her to feel this way.  

She turned around. The motion was too forceful, making her ankle throb.  

“Yaein!”  

Miryung reached for her, but Taeheon stepped in between them. Her hands grasped at nothing but air.  

Yaein walked away.  

She didn’t know where she was going, only that she had to keep moving.  

If she stopped, she would burst apart like an overinflated balloon.  

She wasn’t even looking at the path ahead.  

By the time she ran out of breath and was forced to stop, she had no idea where she was.  

It was an unfamiliar apartment complex. Beyond the swaying trees, there was an empty playground.  

Perhaps because of the time of day, there were no children playing. It looked desolate.  

She had no energy left to reach a bench. 

Instead, she sank down at the base of a tree. 

Leaves fluttered to the ground around her. She watched them fall, numb and silent.