Chapter 45

Taeheon propped himself up from the sofa, the weight pressing down on the cushions making them sink with a faint creak. Running his fingers through his tousled hair, he wiped his eyes with one hand.

The sunset spilled into the house, flooding the floor with a warm glow—bright orange and soft yellow, like a bonfire in the night. It was the color of trumpet creeper flowers.

Following the sound, Taeheon moved toward the source of the gentle clatter. In the small kitchen, the peaceful noise of dishes clinking together continued in a steady rhythm. As he stepped closer, he saw his wife standing there, wearing an apron.

Yaein was humming a song. It was slow and soothing. He didn’t recognize the tune, but he liked it immediately. As she adjusted the induction stove, Yaein noticed him.

“You’re awake?”  

Her beautiful voice called to him, filled with warmth.

Was this a dream? Taeheon thought drowsily.  

He had always been plagued by nightmares, yet for once, he seemed to be dreaming something good.  

“I didn’t even realize I had fallen asleep.”  

“Your hair is a mess,” Yaein said.

Yaein laughed like a bird chirping as she approached Taeheon. Stretching out her arms, she gently tidied his disheveled hair.

As he lowered his head to follow her touch, she smoothed down the back of his head, then straightened the crumpled collar of his shirt.

A sense of déjà vu struck him like a wave. Yaein had done this before—before he had fallen asleep.

And also at the moment when he had completely broken down, after revealing everything to her.

While he poured out his wretched past, the waves had crashed, the seagulls had cried, and he had stood there, as defenseless as a skinned animal.

Once his hardened shell had been peeled away, all that was left was bleeding flesh and pale pink bones. There was no grand façade left—just a messy, blood-streaked version of himself. And yet, she hadn’t turned away. She had looked at him, had touched him.

By the time he had finished his rambling confession, Yaein had taken his hand.

What had she said back then?

He was sure her lips had parted, that her soft voice had reached him, cutting through the background noise to land in his ears.

“I made a simple dinner. I don’t think I saw you eat anything today.”

Had he really not eaten? He hadn’t felt hunger, hadn’t even remembered the need for a meal. But as the savory aroma from the kitchen drifted over him, his body belatedly registered the emptiness in his stomach.

“…Did you make this for me?”

He voiced the thought as soon as it came to him.

Yaein nodded with a smile.

Taeheon was puzzled.

He couldn’t quite believe that any of this was real.

These were things he had sworn never to tell anyone. His mother had been cremated, but Taeheon had buried her corpse deep inside himself. Even now, she had not become nourishment—she was rotting away within him.

While he was confessing, he had been completely defenseless. If Yaein had so much as scratched him with those neat fingernails of hers, he would have crumbled.

And yet, why am I still standing in front of you?

“It needs to cook a little longer, so go sit down. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“……”

“Taeheon?”

He buried his face in the nape of Yaein’s neck. The soft, smooth skin was painfully vivid beneath his lips. This wasn’t a dream.

“Why are you still here?”

“What do you mean?”

“You could have left while I was asleep.”

“What…? While you were sleeping?”

Taeheon nodded.

He had clung to her and confessed the worst of himself. He had laid himself completely bare, revealing even the lowest depths of his being, and had braced himself for punishment.

He wouldn’t have been surprised if she had shoved him into the ocean. He had expected her to turn pale and run away.

But she hadn’t.

Why?

He couldn’t understand it.

“Why would I do that?”

Yaein turned off the induction stove. The pot that had been releasing wisps of white steam began to cool.

After that, Yaein gently led Taeheon back to the living room sofa. He followed the subtle tug of her hand.

“You should rest a little more,” she said softly, easing him down onto the seat.

“Do you want to lie down?” 

She patted her lap and gave him a slightly shy smile. Once again, Taeheon followed her lead.

Yaein’s hand settled on his forehead, her warmth resting lightly against his brow bone.

“You’re like a puppy when you listen this well.”

She laughed quietly after saying it.

That wouldn’t be so bad… Taeheon murmured to himself. His wife would surely love and care for her dog. No matter what it did, she wouldn’t throw it away.

“You said the burns on your back were because of your mother.”

Despite her gentle tone, Taeheon tensed. So he really had told her everything.

Once he had started speaking, tangled knots of the past had unraveled one after another. If he tried to stop himself, she had asked in that same quiet voice—

“What about this one?” 

Just like now.

“…My father.”

The fingers lightly tracing his temple felt terribly good. It made him think he might fall asleep again. His eyes grew languid and half-lidded.

“He happened to be holding a crystal ashtray. It broke.”

Getting the shards out had been a nightmare. Even after stitches, the scar remained.

“Did it hurt?”

“A little.”

Yaein continued to trace the scars as if trying to erase the thin, lingering marks.

Her touch drifted from his forehead to his forearm, sliding beneath his shirt sleeve. Near his elbow, there was a torn scar—one that wasn’t always visible but one she seemed to remember. Her fingers brushed over it, as though confirming its presence.

“This one?” she asked.

Hearing the question made the memory come alive again.

“I was bitten by my father’s dog. When he locked us in together.”

When the dog, trapped in the basement, started going wild, young Taeheon had no way of subduing it. Still, he had somehow managed to survive without being mauled to death.

Calling his own son worse than a dog, then locking them up together—Taeheon had always thought it was ridiculous. But Yaein, instead of laughing, simply ran her fingers over the scar with a sorrowful look.

Seeing that expression, for the first time, he wondered if what he had gone through wasn’t just absurd and pathetic. If it were nothing, it wouldn’t make Yaein look so sad.

Yaein’s hand moved to his side.

“And here?” she asked.

“I got shot in Manhattan while studying abroad.”

Her eyes widened at the word “shot.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Taeheon confirmed with a slight shrug. 

“I had a lot of enemies there.”

He spoke as if making a casual joke, but Yaein didn’t laugh this time either. Her clear eyes were full of him.

Only him.

A surge of emotion overwhelmed Taeheon, and he bit down on the inside of his lip. Amidst the unfamiliar fullness, a familiar pain surfaced.

If Yaein wanted, he would tell her everything—every scarred piece of his history. She was the only one who would ever ask about such worthless things anyway.

Yaein leaned in, peering at him from up close. Her golden hair, catching the sunlight, shimmered like rippling waves, brushing against his neck. Her fingers once again ran over his forehead, gliding down past his ear.

“You look so lonely,” she whispered, her breath damp with emotion.

A sharp jolt struck his temple.

He had never thought about it that way.

What did loneliness even mean? He had been alone from the beginning—always had been. There was no reason to feel lonely. You couldn’t lose what you never had. Kwon Taeheon had always been fine.

But his breath trembled. In Yaein’s tear-filled eyes, he saw himself reflected.

“Why didn’t I realize sooner?” she murmured.

Ah. 

His wife was crying.

Her tears landed on his eyelids. Warm drops soaked his lashes and slid down the curve of his eye socket.

His vision blurred and cleared again, yet he never closed his eyes. He let someone else’s tears seep into his tear ducts, let them trail down his face. A single droplet fell from the edge of his eye.

He had believed that once she knew everything, she would despise him. That she would recoil in disgust, realizing that this hollow monster—nothing more than a creature wrapped in a decent shell—had dared to stain her with his wretched blood. He had been convinced that she would finally be repulsed, that she would abandon their child.

Yaein pressed a kiss to the scar on his temple. Her lips, damp with tears, left a trace of warmth.

His heart pounded so hard it felt as if it might tear apart.

Was this what it would feel like to have a bullet pierce his skull?

A pain he had never experienced before rewired his nerves, reshaping his insides like clay, molding them into something new.

An impossible, incomprehensible love…

He couldn’t say a single word.

Without a single word spoken, Yaein embraced Taeheon.

Her delicate body settled into his arms, folding into him like a feather drifting down. Even as it happened, Taeheon couldn’t fully believe it. Hesitant, he wrapped his arms around her back.

His trembling hands barely managed to rest against her shoulder blades, too weak to press any harder. His heartbeat pounded violently, the erratic rhythm echoing between their chests.

How could a body be this soft? Just feeling her warmth against him sent a wave of guilt crashing down.

Kwon Taeheon had been wrong. 

She had accepted him.

Like a man struck by high-voltage shock, Taeheon was paralyzed by the sheer force of it. Every hair on his body stood on end. He shuddered. It was as if lightning had struck him to the bone.

His lips brushed against Yaein’s cheek. Slowly, he traced upward, licking away the wet trail of her tears before pressing a kiss to the corner of her eye. He drank in the endless drops that spilled over, as if they were the cure to a thirst he had never acknowledged.

Sweet and salty, her tears washed over his parched soul.

She had understood something that not even Taeheon himself had realized.

Why he could never let her go. Why he had chased after her so desperately. Why he had resented her.

Now, he knew.

Taeheon ran his tongue over Yaein’s damp lashes, the fine bristles of her eyelashes brushing against his tongue.

If the day ever came when Yaein turned away from Taeheon, he would never be able to do the same.

Because—  

Because.

His chest felt as if it would shatter in a way different from before. The dormant nerves in his body reawakened, tingling with sensation. Pain surged through him—but it was sweet, intoxicating.

At last, Taeheon accepted it.

***

“Does it taste bad?”  

Yaein asked anxiously. Taeheon, who had been eating sluggishly, shook his head.  

“It’s good.”  

His answer was immediate, but Yaein couldn’t feel at ease.  

“You don’t have to force yourself if you don’t like it.”  

“Why would you think it’s bad?”  

“Your expression is weird.”  

“My expression?”  

Taeheon tilted his head, puzzled.  

Does he really not realize?  

Yaein swallowed a sigh.  

“You’re not frowning, but you’re not smiling either. It’s like I fed you something completely foreign for the first time in your life.” 

She studied the half-creased furrow of his brow. His lips were slightly askew, and every time he chewed, he pressed his molars together unusually tight.

Seeing someone who usually ate with a blank expression suddenly reacting like this made Yaein wonder if she had somehow created a culinary disaster capable of making tongues fall off.  

That couldn’t be it. The ingredients in the fridge were simple, so she had only prepared basic dishes—plain rice and doenjang jjigae, the most ordinary of meals.  

Was the seasoning off? Yaein scooped up a spoonful of the stew and tasted it. It seemed fine—decent enough to eat.  

As she tested a few more bites, she felt someone’s gaze on her. Lifting her head, she met Taeheon’s eyes.  

He was openly staring at her.  

Yaein set down her spoon.  

“Why aren’t you eating more?” Taeheon asked, sounding almost disappointed.  

“I was just checking if I messed up the seasoning. And also… you watching me like that is making me self-conscious.”  

“What is?”