Divorce Contract C75

“Why’s your face… covered up like that? I’ve been dying to see you. What happened to you, Igyeol?”

“…I don’t know.”

“I shouldn’t have taken you to the market that day. I shouldn’t have taken you anywhere.”

Shin Eunsuk laughed shakily as tears kept spilling, hands trembling too much to even touch his face. Her heart was one big knot of regret. Igyeol curled into her arms like a kid who finally found home again.
Every tiny touch—her brushing his ear, stroking the scabbed skin, holding his scarred hand—he loved all of it.

“I missed you so much, Aunt. So, so much. How did you even get here?”

“I believed them when they said you were doing well. Like an idiot. And since I’m not your mother, I thought worrying about you too much would look like meddling.”

“Aunt… I wasn’t well. Not at all. It hurt. It always hurt.”

He couldn’t bring himself to tell her the full truth, but admitting this much felt allowed—felt like finally exhaling.

“I didn’t know… I didn’t know you were like this.”

“…But still, I’m glad. Glad I can show you the baby. Aunt, they said I might be able to raise him. They said… he might be mine.”

“What? What kind of nonsense—raise him? The baby should be with his father, who else would—”

The ward door clicked open. Eunsuk immediately pulled Igyeol closer, shielding him like he was the most fragile thing she’d ever held.

“May I speak with you for a moment?”

Her fury, which had cooled just a little, burst back up the second she saw that expressionless face. She should’ve hit him harder earlier. Should’ve crushed him. Her glare was sharp enough to cut.

“Please.”

He just stood there, taking her death-stare like a statue.

“Fine. Say whatever bold, shameless thing you’re here to say. I have questions too. Let’s go.”

“Aunt… Aunt, you’ll come back, right? You’re not leaving me again… right?”

He tugged at her sleeve, eyes trembling with anxiety. She soothed him, hugged him tight, and promised she’d be back.

“I brought seaweed soup for you. I’ll talk to him quickly, then we’ll eat together.”

Dohyeon walked ahead. Eunsuk followed behind, hands itching to smack the back of his head. Hearing Igyeol say “I wasn’t well” kept replaying in her chest, fueling the urge.
Useless man. No humanity at all. She swore at him silently the whole way.

“How far are we going? We can talk literally anywhere.”

“There’s a lounge right ahead.”

He pointed to a glass door, pressed the button, and the lounge opened—small tables, a water dispenser, and drinks laid out like someone had prepared everything. He entered first; she dragged her feet inside and sat. Immediately, he poured water for her and placed it in front of her.

“It pains me to meet you like this.”

“…Pains you? Really?”

She grabbed the cup and threw the water straight into his face. It hit him hard, soaking his perfect, neat expression. He didn’t even flinch—just like the first time they met. Water dripped down his composed face.

“Yeah. I’m also pained to see you like this. I once thought your fancy city accent sounded classy—but now? It just sounds fake. A liar’s voice. You lied to me that day, didn’t you? Told me he was fine. Told me he arrived safely. You lied.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? When an apology doesn’t even scratch the surface? And you don’t even look sorry. And if anyone deserves the apology, it’s him. What crime did Igyeol commit that he ended up like this? Answer me!”

Every time she looked at him—so straight-backed, clean, untouched—she saw Igyeol shredded and hurting. It made her furious. Her jaw ached from clenching.

“Why aren’t you talking now? You had no problem lying before. Did you lose your tongue?”

Dohyeon wiped his chin slowly with the back of his hand.

“…As you saw, Igyeol isn’t in good health.”

“And who asked for that?”

“…Even if only for a few days… could you stay with him? Please.”

She crushed the paper cup in her hand and threw it at him. Her raised fist trembled, then dropped weakly.

“Please.”

His voice was formal, cold on the outside, but the plea underneath was painfully real.
Eunsuk had already decided the second she saw Igyeol that she was staying.
But answering him felt like giving him something, and she absolutely hated that.

“You. If you want this, shouldn’t you explain what happened to him first? When he lived with me, his cheeks were full and pink like peaches. Why is he like this now? Speak clearly so I know whether to stay or leave.”

“……”

“Not a single uninjured place on his body. And you—your face is spotless. Perfect.”

The sight of his clean lips, neat hands, flawless posture made her stomach twist.

“I’m leaving.”

“Aunt.”

“I’m not your aunt. Don’t call me that.”

Childish or not, she didn’t care—she spat the words out and stormed out.
Dohyeon stayed sitting, completely unmoved, like nothing had touched him.

Back in the ward, the first thing she did was sit Igyeol upright and place the seaweed soup in front of him. Thick with glutinous rice and beef, still steaming. She opened her red lacquered lunchbox—meat, white kimchi, greens, dried sides—the exact kind she made at the pension.

“You can’t eat like this with your face wrapped up. Let’s take this off.”

“…If you take it off… it’ll look awful, Aunt. My skin… it looks wrong.”

He whispered like he was scared the air might hear. But she was already untying the knot behind his round head.
His face appeared—sharp now, hollowed out. Baby-fat cheeks gone. Eyes rimmed red. Lips cracked.

“What is this talk about ‘awful’? You’re still beautiful. You’re still you.”

Her hand shook as she cupped his cheek. His skin was still soft. Still his.
She forced a warm smile and pressed the spoon into his hand.

“A mother who just gave birth needs to take care of herself, you know.”

“……”

“You’ll catch a cold showing your wrists and ankles like this. Where are your thicker socks?”

He finally lifted the spoon and tasted the soup. The savory beef and seaweed warmed him from the inside, waking his appetite.

“I made it lightly seasoned—you shouldn’t have too much salt—but it still needs flavor. Want me to water it down a bit?”

“No… it’s really delicious.”

“Then try this too.”

She plucked the meat off braised ribs and placed it gently on his rice. He opened his mouth like a small bird, accepting every bite.

“You saw the baby today, but they won’t let you visit again until tomorrow… Aunt, are you going back tonight?”

He tried to act cheerful, chewing kimchi but avoiding her eyes. She grabbed his hand and shook her head firmly.

“It’s autumn. No guests come now. The rooms sit empty. I was bored anyway, so this is good. I’ll stay. See the baby. See you. I’ll be here a while.”

“Really… you’re not busy? You said the flower seasons bring the most guests…”

His eyes lifted—half hopeful, half guilty. He wanted her to stay so badly, but didn’t want to burden her.
For the first time in forever, his head felt clear. The whispers were still there, but muted, like they couldn’t reach him while she was near.

“A bunch of new pensions opened nearby. Young people and families all go there. My phone hasn’t rung in ages. Might be time for me to close mine. I’m getting old.”

“…Then tomorrow… can we go see the baby together?”

“Of course. I’ve been wanting to see him so badly—the little one who looks just like you.”

His pale cheeks turned pink. He chewed softly and held her hand tight, not wanting to let go.