Chapter 7

Small plates and a coffee cup sat on the kitchen island. Pale-blue dawn light spilled over Taeheon as he rose from the stool.

He was already dressed for work. Everything was immaculate—from his neatly styled hair down to the watch on his wrist. It was impossible to imagine him tending to a woman who had been left sweaty and tangled from a night of passion.

Yaein found herself newly impressed by her husband’s perfect composure. He was flawless on his own, needing no one else’s touch. Whether she was here or not, he’d remain just as faultless.

“I spoke with Mother. As of today, don’t meet with her anymore.”

Yaein snapped to attention at his curt statement.

“Doing this won’t change my mind.”

It was easier to endure her mother-in-law’s hatred. After all, she had really deceived her, so accepting the consequences was her way of coping.

What was worse than hatred was having to withstand love. It always was.

“Let’s get a divorce.”

She couldn’t just let herself be swept along. But Taeheon, standing before her, looked even more unruffled than when he first heard her say it.

“What more do you need?”

He didn’t budge as he asked, remaining perfectly composed.

“If it’s not enough, tell me everything you want. I’ll make it happen.”

Then, after a brief pause, he drove his point home.

“Except for divorce.”

Yaein frowned. She couldn’t comprehend his behavior.

Until now, they’d gone over two weeks without seeing each other due to his busy schedule. There was no real emotional bond to begin with, just a marriage arrangement between families.

Or rather, maybe it was only that way “for Taeheon.”

After all, Yaein had loved him.  

At first, secretly. Later, fiercely. She had harbored the foolish hope that she could truly become family with him.

“I don’t understand why you’re doing this, Taeheon. Like your mother said, I’m not even a helpful wife to you.”

It had been a dream beyond her station. She knew she had no place at his side.

“I told you from the start—when I stop being useful to you, we should divorce.”

“You’re still useful.”

“Where, exactly? You know your father gives you a hard time because of me.”

“A hard time? Me—suffering? Who said that?”

Taeheon snorted, as if the idea was absurd. Yet he’d come home from meeting his father so distressed by headaches that he couldn’t sleep, clenching his teeth to the point Yaein worried he might damage them.

He didn’t even realize he was suffering. It worried her, but he wouldn’t need her concern.

“What’s useful to me is for me to decide. So is this conversation over? If you’re going to keep insisting on a divorce, stop making excuses on my account and give me a reason.”

Excuses. Yaein swallowed hard.

“I’m tired.”

“That’s why I said I’d minimize any contact with Mother. I’ll handle as much as I can, so you can skip any family gatherings from now on.”

“I’m tired of living with you.”

The words felt like they scraped her throat on the way out.

“I… I just don’t want to live with you anymore, Mr. Kwon Taeheon.”

Yaein looked at him with difficulty. Even meeting his eyes felt like a struggle.

“Why?”

He truly seemed not to understand. Holding back her rising emotions, Yaein bit her lip.

“Well then, why do you refuse to divorce me?”

“Because you’re mine.”

She found it hard to breathe at that unashamedly selfish statement. He had practically left her alone, not even looking her way, and now…

“You hate seeing me that much?”

“And if I say yes, will you actually do something about it?”

“I can adjust how often I’m home. But forget about never seeing me at all.”

“What if I tell you I don’t want to sleep with you anymore?”

For a moment, Taeheon’s relentless drive faltered.

“You want to cut back on how often?”

She let out a hollow laugh. Even now, he treated it like a negotiation—something they could compromise on.

“I don’t want it at all.”

“…”

“I don’t want to have s*x with you.”

The distance between them suddenly vanished. Reflexively, Yaein held her breath. His dark eyes, tinged with a bluish hue, stared down at her from right in front of her.

“I don’t get it. You seemed about ready to faint from how good it felt, so what do you mean you ‘don’t want it’?”

His low voice—unnervingly pleasant—tickled her ears, making them burn.

Before she could retreat, he pulled her against him by her back. She was trapped against the body she’d been pressed under all night.

“You were soaking wet and in tears the moment I touched you. Is that what you do when you don’t want s*x?”

“Stop it.”

Her br*asts were crushed against his firm chest, sending a sharp jolt through her already over-sensitive n*pples. The thin slip did nothing to hide their now-*rect peaks.

“What exactly is it that you don’t like?”

Taeheon openly mocked her. He was always like this—cornering her completely and then coldly ridiculing her when she was at a loss for words.  

I’m not as strong as you. I’m not so unshakeable that I can’t be hurt by anything. That’s not a sin, is it? Sometimes Yaein wanted to ask him that.  

“Don’t… treat me so carelessly.”  

Despite her turmoil, the words that came out were painfully weak. Taeheon only tightened his hold on her. His grip was so strong it hurt.  

“You still have no idea how polite I’ve been to you.” 

It hurt. She struggled, tried to push him away, but he didn’t budge—like he was made of an entirely different substance, solid and heavy.  

“You have no idea how much I’ve had to hold back just to show this much courtesy.”  

Now and then, her husband directed his cynical scorn at himself as well.  

What do you mean by “someone like you”? What kind of person do you think you are?  

Even now, when she was determined to end it, Yaein was still curious about Taeheon. Love was so tenacious.  

“What happens if you don’t hold back?”  

She wanted to know the side of him she’d never seen.  

The arms that had been crushing her gradually loosened, and the man whose face had been so close she thought he might kiss her suddenly drew back.  

“It’s better you don’t find out.”  

As always, he walked past her. Taeheon headed straight for the front door, and Yaein stood frozen, unable to stop him.  

Even as he stepped out, he never turned around.  

“I’ll come right home after work, so stay put.”  

The door closed. The lock clicked into place.  

“As if I had anywhere else to go,” she said to the shut door—to the man who was already out of sight.  

She smoothed out her crumpled slip, catching her breath with a heavy feeling in her throat.  

Why, she wondered, did she still love him so?  

Sadness drew her back to the day they first met. He was the one who had stopped the rain for her. Wiped her tears away. Looking back, maybe it had started from that moment.  

In her long, lonely life, he was the only person she could lean on. How could she not give him her heart? Sometimes, this pitiful longing made her feel ashamed and miserable.  

“At least you can’t hear any of this yet… that’s a relief.”  

Pressing her hand to her chest, Yaein murmured. Her hand slowly slipped down to rest over her lower belly.  

“Don’t worry. Mommy will protect you.”  

She swore she would never let the child experience the kind of humiliation and pain she had. She’d make sure the child grew up believing they deserved to be loved—no matter what it took. 

She suddenly remembered the pregnancy test. She wasn’t ready for her husband to find out she was pregnant. Yaein hurried into the guest room.

Reaching under the bed, she felt her heart pound for no reason. She pulled out the plastic bag she touched with her fingertips, checked inside, and sighed in relief.

I should throw this out somewhere else.

She grabbed her phone to head outside and saw that messages had arrived overnight:

> [Mom’s asking when you’re coming today.]

It was from her half-sister, Serin. Yaein suddenly recalled the event she had completely forgotten: Today was the opening day of Serin’s first solo exhibition as an artist. Yaein groaned, checking the time on her phone. There was still some leeway.

> [Hey. Didn’t you say your mother-in-law isn’t coming?]

After her father-in-law was hospitalized, her mother-in-law had canceled all her scheduled events. She had initially planned on attending this exhibition with her mother-in-law, but now she’d have to go alone.

Serin, no doubt, would be relieved. She and their stepmother often ridiculed Yaein’s mother-in-law behind her back, calling her uncultured and claiming they were embarrassed to be associated with her in public.  

They mocked Yaein and her mother-in-law together, saying that without the daughter-in-law in tow, none of the society wives would bother to socialize with them—and that at least spending money on the marriage had its benefits.

> [Is your husband coming or what?]

More messages appeared, and Yaein sighed at Serin’s attitude—how she either looked down on Yaein’s in-laws or pried into their affairs out of blatant curiosity.  

She ignored most of the messages and simply replied about when she’d arrive:

> [I’ll be there before lunchtime.]

After sending the reply, she headed for the dressing room. The mere thought of facing Serin already gave her a headache.

Yaein nearly collapsed into the chair in front of the vanity. She stared at the worn-out face reflected back at her. The woman in the mirror looked so sad—pale and lonely.

“Why are you living like this?”

But the woman offered no answer. Yaein applied lipstick to her colorless lips. Adding a hint of color made her look marginally better.

She couldn’t welcome her child looking so pitiful. Misery was contagious. A faint memory of her mother, from Yaein’s hazy childhood, overlapped with the reflection in the mirror: the sad, exhausted woman who never really looked at her—the woman who now resembled Yaein herself.

If her husband insisted on not divorcing, she’d have to find another way. Letting go might be far easier than all those times she’d tried so hard to keep the marriage together.

Taking a long breath, Yaein composed her expression. She’d decided what to do.

She would go to her in-laws—the ones who had repeatedly told her to get divorced—and tell them she’d do exactly that. She still recalled all the humiliations she’d endured every time she met her father-in-law, but it no longer mattered. This time would be the last.

She didn’t want to go to Serin’s exhibition. Even so, she would go. After all, this was the kind of thing Taeheon’s family had hoped for when they took in a daughter-in-law: a respectable event put on by her own family, a setting where she would introduce herself as their daughter and talk about her husband, participating in the social scene of invitations back and forth.

Until the divorce was final, she intended to do her part—repaying their money’s worth. She knew it was a pointless sense of pride, but this was her way of showing she could carry out her role.

She wanted to be as confident as possible when she gave her final farewells to her in-laws. I did what you wanted of me, didn’t I?

Yaein stood up from her seat. In the mirror, there was no one left.

***

Upon entering the exhibition hall, the first thing to greet her was the harsh glare of the lights.

The space, managed by her stepmother, was now filled with Serin’s works.  

Glittering bits of colored glass and textiles were used in flashy installation art that was difficult to interpret. It didn’t exude any strong sense of individuality; it all felt like something she’d seen somewhere before.

Spotting a few familiar faces among the visitors, Yaein offered a light greeting and walked toward the center of the gallery. Even after touring the first floor, there was no sign of Serin.

If she was late, Serin would no doubt lose her temper without caring about the reason. As she fretted over that thought, someone called out to her from the staircase above.