Chapter 2.5

Still feeling confused, he called her name again. 

“Go Ah-jin.” 

“Yes…. Why do you keep calling someone else’s name?” 

She was completely out of it. 

He had called her name because she didn’t seem like his wife, yet she responded promptly every time he did. 

‘Go Ah-jin. What is your true self?’

The scene earlier, where she clung to the woman named Eun-hee and begged her not to leave, was at least somewhat familiar. 

Hadn’t she begged him like that when asking for a divorce? 

But he had thought she only clung to him. 

He hadn’t realized she could cling to anyone like that. 

She had always seemed like the kind of woman who didn’t know how to act spoiled. 

“Am I really a stranger to you?”

He found it absurd to ask such a question to his drunken wife. 

It was ridiculous to nitpick over drunken words, too. 

Though he knew this logically, his mouth betrayed him and moved against his will. 

Perhaps it was because of her breath. 

Sitting close to her, the faint scent of her perfume mixed with the smell of alcohol. 

What perfume was it? 

Every week before the department store opened, he would visit the luxury brand sections. 

Occasionally, he would sample fragrances at the perfume counters, and they were generally quite pleasant since they were high-end products. 

But judging by his sensitive nose, this didn’t seem to be one of those. 

His wife, who seemed clueless about her own preferences, wouldn’t have bought such a brand anyway. 

The scent was more delicate and subtle, and the more he inhaled it, the more it tugged at something deep inside his chest. 

It was maddeningly nostalgic, as if it could make him long for something he couldn’t quite name. 

“Answer me. Am I a stranger to you?” 

“I don’t know…. It’s cold.” 

But his drunken wife gave a nonsensical reply. 

At work, he detested it when subordinates answered his questions with irrelevant responses. 

Yet now, as he watched his wife lean against his shoulder, complaining of the cold, he felt an unexpected urge to laugh. 

“Not even realizing I’m your husband, and still you cling to me.”

The thought of her clinging to a stranger the same way was infuriating, but the stronger scent of her perfume made it easier for him to dismiss the idea. 

When he inhaled deeply, the fragrance seemed to fill his lungs completely. 

The sight of his large frame holding his petite wife caught the attention of the other patrons in the street food stall, who glanced at them discreetly. 

But Jin-wook was indifferent to the stares. 

He was focused solely on holding his wife tightly in his arms. 

She had never come to him like this before. 

She didn’t know how to express herself, so she had never asked him to hold her. 

Then again, asking outright wouldn’t have suited her personality anyway. 

“It’s really cold… really….” 

Was this how she acted whenever she drank? 

As his wife clung to him, he grabbed the coat that had been draped over a nearby chair and covered her with it. 

Being a men’s size, the coat completely enveloped her small frame. 

Still holding her, Jin-wook stood up, paid the bill, and headed straight to his car. 

When he tried to lay her down in the back seat, her feet sticking out of the coat caught his attention. 

She was wearing high heels, and the heels looked like they were well over seven centimeters. 

What was the point of going through so much trouble just to meet a friend? 

Whenever they went out together, he appreciated that she chose comfortable shoes. 

Now, even something as trivial as her choice of footwear was bothering him. 

And as he carried her, the lightness of her weight annoyed him. 

Even accounting for the difference between men and women, an adult woman shouldn’t be this light. 

He clicked his tongue in disapproval, laid her down carefully, and removed her high heels. 

He briefly considered throwing them out on the street, as they were bound to strain her knees unnecessarily. 

But he placed them on the floor instead, remembering how much she had cherished her shirt during their last intimate moment.  

It was clear that ever since his wife had brought up the topic of divorce, Jin-wook had been paying closer attention to her behavior than usual. He didn’t want to create arguments over trivial matters like high heels or clothes. 

Who would have thought he’d end up taking his drunken wife home? 

Clicking his tongue once again, he turned on the heater. The roads were empty at this late hour, and he sped toward home as if in a race. Even though his wife was already in his hands, he felt an inexplicable urge to hurry. 

***

After parking in the garage, Jin-wook carried his wife inside. As he moved her into the house, she grumbled about her clothes being uncomfortable. 

“Sober up first.” 

He laid her on the bed and began carefully removing her clothes. 

The memory of her neatly folding her clothes last time crossed his mind. 

As he folded her cardigan neatly, a shadow briefly passed across his face. 

Why had she treated that particular shirt so differently? 

Why had she given it special treatment? 

Even as he thought back, it hadn’t been a particularly expensive brand. He couldn’t guess what special meaning it held for her. 

His wife, deeply asleep, looked like a child who knew nothing. 

Her usual vacant or hazy gaze was now hidden beneath her long lashes, making her appear incredibly young. 

When he thought about it, it made sense. 

She was, after all, four years younger than him—the same age as his youngest sibling. 

This had been one of the reasons his mother didn’t like her. 

Having always seen his youngest sibling as a child, his mother had treated his wife like a child, too. 

Yet, when they had met at the matchmaking table, his wife hadn’t seemed young at all.  

Perhaps it was because she was the eldest in her family. 

Her calm tone and composed demeanor had initially made him think she was his age. 

“Don’t you think I’m too young?” 

“You don’t seem that young.” 

He didn’t know how his wife had taken his words, but he had meant them as a compliment—that she appeared much more mature than her age. 

Looking back, perhaps he shouldn’t have said it. 

Being called mature wasn’t always a compliment, as he had learned from his own experiences. 

No one was mature from the start. 

Just as his father’s sudden death had forced him to grow up, circumstances shaped people into maturity. 

“But why are you suddenly deviating from your path?” 

He couldn’t understand why his wife, who had always seemed like she would walk her predetermined path, was now trying to go against it. 

Unless her lips, dry like wilted petals, opened, he would never know. 

‘I don’t intend to leave you be.’ 

The new sides of his wife he had seen today only solidified that thought. 

The emotions he was feeling now were unmistakably betrayal. 

His wife could drink alcohol. 

She could whine and complain to someone. 

To be honest, what annoyed him the most was that she hadn’t complained to him. 

If he hadn’t seen with his own eyes that her drinking companion was a friend, he might have done something drastic. 

“Why are you testing me?” 

His wife’s slender neck and small face were beautiful. 

Her features weren’t the Western-style beauty most people preferred, but her delicate features were harmoniously balanced.

Because of that, he had thought he would never fall in love with her. 

She wasn’t his type, but he had chosen her anyway. 

So what was this feeling? 

What was it? 

His wife remained deeply asleep, and he still didn’t get the answers he wanted. 

He placed his warm palm on her neck. 

Even with just two fingers, it felt like he could snap it effortlessly. 

Breaking the fragile neck that supported the thoughts of leaving him wouldn’t be difficult. 

Why didn’t she understand that she shone most beautifully by his side? 

The possessiveness he hadn’t realized he had was crushing and suffocating him. 

Yes, he wanted to keep his wife by his side. 

If possible, he wished she could remain like this—forever asleep. 

Even he found his thoughts sickeningly obsessive and let out a bitter laugh. 

He hoped he would never have to test his grip on her. 

‘Is she breathing?’ 

As he stared at her pale face, he lifted her wrist, thin like a dry twig. 

Of course, her pulse was beating. 

Slow, but steady. 

Good grief, why was he relieved over something so obvious? 

Next, his eyes landed on her white fingers. 

They were delicate enough to look perfect resting on piano keys. 

Suddenly, he opened his mouth wide and put her fingers inside. 

It was an instinctive motion, like Pavlov’s dog. 

Lick. 

He ran his tongue over her fingers and bit down gently. 

Only when they looked swollen, as if soaked in hot water, did he release them from his mouth. 

Now that he couldn’t hold his sleeping wife, he felt he had to bite and s*ck to satisfy himself. 

“He’s a beast, a beast!” 

Those words, above all else, pierced him like arrows.