Chapter 44

The outstretched palm caught a drifting maple leaf. The delicate leaf seemed to settle in Yaein’s grasp for a brief moment before slipping away with the wind.

She could have reached out and caught it, but she didn’t feel like making the effort. Instead, her gaze followed the tumbling leaf—until a hand, adorned with a familiar wedding ring, caught it mid-air.

A rose-tinted leaf was gently placed onto Yaein’s palm. The hand that handed it to her shimmered with the same ring she had once worn.

How do you always find me?

Even in moments when she didn’t know where she was herself.

Yaein traced the delicate veins of the leaf under the sunlight before setting it aside. Where the crimson leaf had been, Taeheon appeared.

Her heart wavered.

Humans were fickle. Not long ago, she had been willing to risk her life to escape him. And yet now, seeing him here brought her comfort.

“It’s unfair,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Why can’t we choose our parents?”

The fact that no one had a say in where or how they were born felt suffocating. Unjust.

Life rarely followed one’s wishes. More often than not, even one’s own heart didn’t obey. It was unfair.

Taeheon stood beside her in silence. He had been by her side in the doctor’s office just like this, but back then, it had felt suffocating. Now, it felt like protection.

“If you could choose?” he asked. “Where would you have wanted to be born?”

Yaein looked down at the cracked asphalt. Between the gaps, resilient green weeds poked through.

Once born, one had no choice but to live. Whether they wanted to or not. 

How cruel.

“I wouldn’t have been born at all.”

If she had the choice, she wouldn’t have loved either.

“I want our child to have a different choice.”

If, one day, the child in the ultrasound photo were to grow, to take its first steps, to stretch out its long limbs in bewilderment, and wonder—Why was I even born? I never asked for any of this. I wish I had never been given this life—then…

Just the thought of it tore her apart.

“You should give them that too,” she pleaded. I don’t know if I can do it alone.

Yaein turned to look at Taeheon.

His expression contorted. Slowly, but unmistakably.

***

‘Does sadness really pass on to a child? I hope not.’

Yaein didn’t want her child to inherit what she had lived through. She wanted to put them first—that was love, wasn’t it?

The world around her blurred like a smudged watercolor painting as she sank into thought. Distant sounds buzzed in her ears, fragmented and indistinct.

Then, a sharp creaking sound broke through.

The passenger seat reclined with a jolt. Yaein startled and sat up straight.

Taeheon was reaching over to unbuckle her seatbelt.

As she glanced outside, she saw the now-familiar garage and surrounding bushes. They had arrived.

“When did we get here?” she asked.

“While you were looking at the photos.”

She glanced down—she had been clutching the ultrasound prints the entire ride home.

Taeheon stepped out of the car, but a coldness still clung to him.

Yaein bit her tongue, not wanting to show her disappointment. She didn’t want to ruin the moment further.

The meeting with her mother had drained her. Pleading with someone who refused to listen only chipped away at her.

She wanted to tell someone about today’s ultrasound. How incredible it was to see the baby move.

As she entered the house, one person naturally came to mind.

“How is Mother doing?” she asked.

It wasn’t just an excuse to talk about the baby. She owed so much to the woman who had helped her, yet she hadn’t even called to check in.

“The same as always,” Taeheon replied curtly.

“I’d like to show her the pictures.”

That would mean going back to Seoul. Which meant facing Taeheon’s father as well.

Yaein’s expression darkened.

“If I say I want to keep living with you, your father won’t take it well, will he?”

She had already visited his hospital room and said her last farewell. This time, the backlash would be immense.

There were still so many obstacles ahead. Her truce with Taeheon had only cleared the ones right in front of her.

“No,” Taeheon murmured. “I don’t think he will.”

Taeheon was unnervingly calm.  

“He and I already had our talk. He won’t bother you about the divorce anymore.”  

That meant Taeheon had gone to see his father. Yaein’s eyes widened in shock.  

“You hate meeting with him.”  

“More precisely, I just hate him,” Taeheon corrected with a cold smirk.  

“So you went to see him because of me?”  

Instead of answering, he abruptly returned to the earlier topic of his mother.  

“I don’t get why you like President Park so much. Any woman who clings to my father looks the same to me.”  

It was obvious that Taeheon disliked his stepmother. Yaein had sensed it before, but it was the first time he had admitted it outright. A genuine glimpse into his thoughts.  

“My father is trash.”  

“……”  

“And so am I.”  

His gaze fell to the ultrasound photo lying on the table.  

“That child will probably be the same…”  

“Stop it.”  

Don’t do this to the baby.  

Yaein’s eyes were filled with rejection, and Taeheon’s lips pressed into a thin line.  

“Will you say that to the child after they’re born too? That they shouldn’t have been born, that you wished they never existed?”  

“……”  

The hesitation in Taeheon’s silence was enough of an answer.  

Yaein clenched her teeth, forcing herself to push through the shock. He had essentially admitted it.  

Could she bear it if Taeheon continued to reject their child?  

The answer was clear.  She couldn’t.  

“I know you have your reasons. You never talk about them, but I can guess. No matter what, though, don’t take it out on an innocent child.”  

Yaein grasped his sleeve, holding onto him—not just physically, but with all her strength.  

Don’t become like the people who hurt me.  

“If you keep doing this, I won’t forgive you either.”  

The same words she had thrown at her mother.  

Taeheon flinched as if struck by lightning.  

“…You have your reasons for this too, don’t you?”  

Yaein had always wanted to understand.  

Why she had been abandoned. Why she had been despised.  

It wasn’t because she was exceptionally kind. It was self-preservation. If she could justify it, if she could convince herself that they were just wounded people acting out, it was easier to endure.  

Even if it still hurt, at least she could rationalize it. A habit born from loneliness.  

“Tell me why.”  

She was desperate.  

Whenever it came to Taeheon, she always ended up feeling this way.  

Don’t make me abandon you.  

She found herself pleading internally.  

“……”  

Taeheon remained silent, as if something had lodged in his throat.  

Yaein waited.  

And waited.  

Then, finally, with a trembling breath, she exhaled.  

“If you don’t tell me, I won’t understand, Taeheon.”  

His lips parted slightly.  

That’s why I won’t say anything.  

Words swirled inside him but never surfaced.  

Outside, the waves marked the passage of time. The rhythmic crash of the ocean replaced the ticking of a clock.  

Taeheon stayed frozen. Still. Motionless.  

Yaein’s grip on his sleeve loosened.  

She turned and stormed out.  

The moment overlapped with a memory—except this time, Taeheon was the one left behind.  

Before, it had always been him walking away.  

His head snapped up toward the door.  

A sharp, undeniable premonition struck him.  

If he let her go now, she wouldn’t come back.  

The same way his mother had once disappeared beyond the rattling front gate.  

Back then, he hadn’t even managed to grab the hem of her coat.  

And now, he thought—  What if, instead of calling his father, he had asked her to take him with her?  

What if he had been willing to be thrown aside, as long as he could go with her?  

His grip tightened around the door handle.Then, he wrenched it open and ran after Yaein.  

He had to.

***

The waves surged in shades of steel, their jagged crests stabbing and slicing through the empty sky. At the breaking point, foamy white froth bubbled up, the shattered seawater slumping forward in submission.  

Yaein sat perched on a rock, staring out at the ocean. Her silhouette against the horizon looked like a thickly painted oil canvas, streaked with melancholy.  

Her delicate frame leaned ever so slightly toward the water. The sight was enough to make Taeheon afraid—that at any moment, she might let herself slip into the sea and dissolve into foam.  

He walked toward her as if pulled by an unseen force.  

“Leave me alone for a while.”  

Yaein rejected him without even looking his way.  

He couldn’t.  

If he let go now, she would leave for good.  

He had to do something. Anything. Even if it was the thing he least wanted to do. Even if it was saying the words that would make Yaein truly abandon him.  

“I’m afraid that child will kill you.”  

Taeheon confessed.  

“The way I did to my mother.”  

Yaein turned to look at him as if he had spoken a language she couldn’t comprehend.  

He wanted to leave it unsaid. To lock it inside himself forever.  

But he had to finish.  

“I killed her. My own mother.”  

Yaein’s eyes widened. Taeheon let out a grim, humorless laugh.  

A massive wave crashed against the rocks, breaking apart. The sound was deafening, as if the very foundation beneath them had crumbled.  

It was time for his confession. As he dragged the words out of himself, Taeheon felt like he was drowning. He could no longer breathe. The more he spoke, the more certain he became.  

It was over.  

***  

He hadn’t meant to kill her.  

If he had been capable of wishing for anything good, maybe he could have hoped that she would escape and find peace. That none of it would have happened. That Kwon Taeheon had been even slightly decent, even a little bit clean.  

But he wasn’t. He never was.  

If by some miracle, they had managed to escape his father together—if they had reached that shabby little town where no one knew them—would he have turned out better than he was now?  

Back then, he couldn’t even imagine another life. His home was a place he could never leave. Caged animals often remain within their bars even when the door is opened.  

And so—  

He had clung to her, wanting her to stay, only to destroy her completely.  

But at the time, he just couldn’t bear it.  

He couldn’t stand being left there alone.  

Taeheon lowered his arm from his face. In his half-dreaming state, he thought he had heard someone sobbing.  

Was someone crying again?  

Like the sounds he used to hear from the room next to his when he was a child.