Chapter 30

“Wooseok.”

The car was already moving. Wooseok said nothing, just sped down the road. When she looked over, she saw a side of him she’d never seen before. She’d known him for twenty years, but now a strange Jung Wooseok sat before her.

Was he hiding it all this time? Did he want to keep it secret? He couldn’t even say he was hurting, yet he couldn’t let her go—his past days and wounds. Eunjae didn’t know how to accept it.

“Jung Wooseok.”

Still, all Eunjae could see was his tense hand gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“…You’ll get into an accident like this. Pull over.”

She felt he shouldn’t be driving in this state. At Eunjae’s urging, Wooseok barely managed to pull the car onto the shoulder. With the blinkers on, the two sat adrift on the side of the road. Silence froze the air inside the car. Wooseok lowered his head over the wheel, struggling to control his rising emotions.

“I know it’s my fault. But, at least… not like this.”

Wooseok slowly began to speak.

“I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“Do you know why we ended up like this?”

Eunjae finally felt she understood the reason.

“You and I… we’re both fools.”

Bitterness and resignation flowed from her words.

“But I don’t think this is the way. You should go back.”

Eunjae started gathering her things as if she was about to get out. Wooseok quickly grabbed her arm, not wanting to let her go. But Eunjae calmly removed his hand. Her actions felt like a cut across Wooseok’s heart.

“Shin Eunjae.”

“Do you think avoiding it will give you an answer?”

Eunjae shot back at Wooseok.

“What I regret most is confessing to you so late. What if I’d done it sooner? I always think about it. Do you want to end up like that too? When your mother passes, will you regret it then, crying too late? If you’re going to live with that wound, like your mother is now… then I don’t want to see you.”

“Shin Eunjae!”

His eyes asked how she could say she wouldn’t see him so easily. Eunjae let out a laugh.

“But how do I get to Seoul from here?”

She looked out the window, speaking as if nothing had happened.

“Why don’t you stop being so stubborn.”

Wooseok growled in a low voice.

“We’re both in trouble, aren’t we?”

She was an expert at driving people crazy. Wooseok could only laugh. Even after all the humiliation, she didn’t complain. She didn’t ask why he hadn’t said anything until now. She didn’t blame him for not being honest. Though his fists trembled, Eunjae spoke calmly, pretending nothing was wrong, making his heart ache even more.

Eunjae was both his love and his original sin. Was it love because it hurt? He thought, even if he had to hurt, he hoped this woman wouldn’t. Wooseok, as if giving up, started the car again. Eunjae didn’t insist any further. For that, he was grateful.

Choosing compromise over stubbornness, Eunjae waved goodbye at the subway station entrance, the fastest way home to Seoul. Wooseok stared at the station entrance where she disappeared for a long time, then slowly turned the car around to head back home.

In the end, the wounds created by his fears and avoidance were problems he had to solve himself. Parking in the yard and entering the house, he found his father sitting in the kitchen with only a small lamp on. On the table, there was nothing but a lonely bottle of soju and a glass.

Seeing Wooseok, his father simply raised his glass silently. At some point, that silence had begun to choke Wooseok with guilt, but now he didn’t know anymore. He used to resent this man so much. Strangely, now he felt a bit sorry for him.

“Where’s Mom?”

Wooseok approached his father and spoke first.

“Leave her be. …She’s protesting against me.”

“Father.”

“Don’t worry. Go back to Seoul.”

Gwangho stood up, avoiding him again. Watching his father take the bottle into the kitchen, Wooseok couldn’t hold back anymore. Like Eunjae said, running away wouldn’t solve anything.

“I thought I’d be okay if time passed. I deliberately avoided and pretended not to know. It hurt less that way… But look at us now. You still stare at the wall, Mom is sick, and this place, with both of you, has become more uncomfortable than anywhere else.”

“…”

“Is this… right, Father?”

For the first time, Wooseok asked. Since his brother died, he hadn’t asked his father anything. Was this right? What should he do with his pain? He didn’t know anything, no one taught him, he couldn’t even beg for help. The moments he couldn’t even cling on were painfully revived.

“My brother died when I was twenty.”

At Wooseok’s words, Gwangho turned and looked at him.

“And… I’m thirty-three now.”

Gwangho knew what his son meant, so he couldn’t make excuses. While he was lost in grief, more than ten years had passed. He’d stayed stuck in that time, not looking to the side or ahead. How did the rest of the family feel, watching him? The emotions barely hanging on underfoot seemed to scream that they couldn’t take it anymore.

When Gwangho finally took a step toward him, Wooseok didn’t wait and turned away. Gwangho stopped again, watching his son head toward the master bedroom. Then he realized—it had been a very long time since he’d just quietly watched his son’s back.

Wooseok entered the dark room and stood there. He didn’t know what to do. All he could see was his mother’s frail figure lying on the bed. After being honest with his father for the first time, he felt a sense of relief.

‘Please look at me.’

‘I’m also your living son.’

He had to admit now that he’d felt so lonely in front of the affection he couldn’t express himself. Ignoring wounds didn’t make them disappear; eventually, they became bigger pains that tormented him, and in that moment, he had to face anything.

Wooseok slowly walked over and knelt by the bed. He saw his mother’s back turned toward the window. Her tired shoulders weighed on his mind.

“I’m sorry for not being a good son.”

He spoke slowly, as if confessing.

“But… I can’t promise to become a good son from now on. You know, right? I’m like Dad. I can’t let go of Eunjae either. If you can’t accept her… I’ll do my best to persuade you. I can’t help how I am… I’m sorry.”

“…”

“So, please go to the hospital.”

Wooseok gathered courage and held his mother’s hand once more.

“I didn’t even know you were sick, made you go to the hospital alone… That’s my fault. They say family is the best, no matter how much we fight. I regret making it so hard that we couldn’t even call each other when it was tough. Even if we don’t agree, there must have been another way… Please forgive me.”

At his final words, Seonjeong suddenly sat up, unable to hold back any longer. Even in the darkness, Wooseok could see tears welling in her eyes. She still looked at her son with fierce eyes.

“Did she tell you to do this? …Is that it?”

“If she’d told me, it wouldn’t have been like this.”

“Jung Wooseok!”

“Go to the hospital first.”

Wooseok quietly helped his mother up by the hand.

“……Your father, you—you’re both the same. You don’t even know what comes first.”

“I know.”

“If you know, then why didn’t you say anything to Eunjae?”

Wooseok couldn’t make any excuses to Seonjeong’s question. She was right.

“I gave you the chance. A chance to tell her yourself. But if you can’t even be honest, what are you saying you’ll take responsibility for? Love……? Do you call it love with just words? Do you know how hard it is to overcome parental opposition and make sure she doesn’t shed tears? If you’re not ready for that, then clear her away from the start.”

Wooseok could tell where his mother’s harsh advice was headed. He smiled quietly, and Seonjeong threw off her blanket and got up, leaving the master bedroom first. Seeing her put on her coat in the living room, Wooseok felt a bit relieved and followed her.

“You don’t need to come. Call your father.”

Seonjeong suddenly stopped while putting on her shoes at the entrance.

“Come with me today. Dad… he’s been drinking.”

At her son’s words, Seonjeong’s eyes showed resignation.

“You really are something.”

She cast a glare toward Gwangho’s study before slamming the front door shut. Wooseok looked at his father’s quiet study for a moment, then put on his shoes. Just then, the study door opened and Gwangho came out, wearing his coat. With his usual expression, he approached Wooseok and tapped his shoulder briefly.

“…Thank you.”

Just a simple phrase, but it carried a heavy weight in Wooseok’s chest. Staring at the door his father had left through, he felt dazed for a while. The road he’d taken flashed through his mind like a film.