Divorce Contract C95

Chapter 95

Even had it been her own child, it would never have made her heart ache so deeply. Yet each time Shin Eunsuk saw Go Igyeol rejoice over something as small as buying baby clothes, acting as though he had forgotten all he had suffered, her chest felt as though it were being torn apart.

Why was the weather so biting cold? The fingertips peeking out from beneath his white cardigan sleeves were especially red.

“How on earth… did you endure it?”

Her eyes had been fixed on his neatly cut nails, but at her trembling voice, Igyeol took hold of her hand. His smooth palm closed around hers, tugging gently with what little strength he had.

“…By enduring, I met you, Auntie. And I held my baby safely in my arms. That much… feels enough.”

Those were her own words once, given to him in comfort: Because you endured, you met me.

Now, Igyeol carefully lifted the hand clutching the shopping bag’s handles and brushed away the wetness at the corner of her eye. The moisture against his fingertips was a familiar warmth.

“I’m not fine at all… but now it no longer matters.”

The days when he thought death would be kinder had passed. His baby was alive, safe in his embrace. And so his words were not a lie—it truly did no longer matter.

Like Dohyeon had once said, one adapts even to such circumstances, and Igyeol had done the same.

“Igyeol.”

“Auntie said it was all his fault… but I think, in part, it was because of me too.”

Resigned, his voice carried a weary surrender.

Eunsuk closed her eyes as tears brimmed and traced down her cheeks. Passersby on the midday street occasionally let their gazes linger on the two of them.

Flushing crimson, she pressed at her eyes with the back of her hand before clasping Igyeol’s fingers tightly.

“Let’s go.”

“…Yes, let’s.”

That day, Seo Dohyeon’s office saw an unusual number of visitors. One of them was Na Seunghui.

Though Dohyeon himself had summoned him, he still looked markedly irritated. His reception was so cold that Seunghui felt a sting of offense.

He had not come uninvited—he had abandoned his own work at once the moment he was called.

“I’m extremely busy, you know. I put everything aside because you asked. But if you’re going to keep ignoring me like some unwelcome caller, why even summon me?”

“Wait. I still have documents to finish.”

“Excuse me, Executive Director Seo, I’ve got a trial to prepare for too.”

He tapped at his wristwatch in protest, but Dohyeon did not so much as glance up. Since the moment he entered, he had not truly looked at him once.

With a surly sigh, Seunghui slumped into his seat, trying to guess what he wanted.

Was it because of how he had once spoken carelessly to Go Igyeol? Or perhaps because he had continued to meet with Im Yeonhui afterward? Or could it be something else?

There were too many possibilities. Scratching his chin, he sighed heavily at the thought of dropping everything to rush here, when Dohyeon finally approached and sat across from him on the sofa.

“At last, you sit.”

“I’m getting a divorce.”

“Yes, a divorce—what? You’re divorcing?”

“You’re the specialist in divorce, aren’t you?”

His low voice made Seunghui nod reflexively, though bewilderment clouded his face.

Why so suddenly? He had once insisted he never would—what had changed his mind? Wasn’t the child confirmed as his?

He didn’t care to recall the mistake of drafting divorce papers for Yeonhui without checking the paternity report himself, but through Dohyeon’s mother he had heard the child born to Igyeol was indeed his.

“Well… yes. But you said before you wouldn’t.”

“I asked for a lawyer. Why is Na Seunghui here?”

“I… I see. So, you’re divorcing? Mutual agreement? Litigation? On whose fault?”

“By agreement. You have the settlement you drafted for Go Igyeol, don’t you?”

Pressing a hand to his eyes, Dohyeon spoke.

Seunghui, still stammering, quickly produced the document and handed it over.

As his bloodshot eyes scanned the lines, Dohyeon bit down a curse and glared at him.

“This is your work, yes. But every clause was dictated by my mother, wasn’t it?”

“…Impressive. Truly impressive—her, and you for writing it down exactly as she wished. Do you not see how grossly unfair this is?”

At his condemnation, Seunghui’s face flushed.

Back then, he had fooled himself into believing he had a chance. So even knowing the terms were unjust, he wrote them down as instructed.

It had been easy to misinterpret Yeonhui’s subtle encouragement, easy to let himself be spurred on.

And there had been that baseless confidence, the belief that Dohyeon might not see him unfavorably.

But now he knew better. Unbelievably, Seo Dohyeon loved Go Igyeol. He simply did not know how to hold that affection like ordinary people.

“All clauses will be redone, save the basics. We’ll include asset division, parental authority, and custody.”

“May I ask why you’re divorcing? This is only as your lawyer—I need to know the grounds.”

Seunghui pulled out a notebook, pen poised, his gaze fixed on him.

Dohyeon’s face, steeped in exhaustion, lifted to meet his before he answered.

“What do you think?”

“Did Go Igyeol ask for it? Given everything, after such suspicion, it would be difficult to live together… yes.”

“Parental authority will be joint, but custody goes to Igyeol.”

“What? Are you out of your mind? You’re giving custody to Go Igyeol? Do you think your family will let that pass? You’re asking for chaos! You’re the one who should raise the child—are you sane? How could you hand your bloodline over to him?”

His pen froze. Shocked, he snapped his head up, his sharp eyes wide.

His sudden outburst made Dohyeon wince faintly. The raised voice worsened his headache.

Looking at him as he ranted absurdities, he finally spoke.

“What right have I to raise a child Go Igyeol bore? And is this how you treat a client?”

“What? No, that’s not what I—”

“I’m paying your fee. So treat me as you would any other client. Or did you mistake this for something else? Think I called you here because you were special?”

His tone was flat, without inflection. The sheer indifference made Seunghui’s cheeks flame red.

“The only reason I called you was because I won’t have the news of this divorce splashed across the media before I choose to announce it. That’s all. Were you under some other illusion?”

The casual words doused his heated feelings in an instant.

He thought grimly that if one wished to strip away every last shred of fondness, one only had to speak as Dohyeon did.

Childhood friends they might have been, and yes, he knew Seunghui had feelings for him—but his heart was already elsewhere.

He forced himself to accept it. Still, a sharp ache lingered within.

Before him, he always felt so small.

“…If custody goes to Go Igyeol, then you’ll see the child under visitation rights. Typically, once a month for two days over the weekend, or once every two weeks. How do you want to arrange it?”

“Once a week, for two days over the weekend. That part is nonnegotiable—note it.”

“Next, asset division.”

“I’ll prepare the documents myself and send them. You’ll confirm and include them in the agreement.”

The fluency with which he dictated made Seunghui falter.

He lifted his eyes again to his.

“If you’re the one seeking divorce, then before drafting we must ask what compensation the other party wants.”

“He isn’t greedy. He’ll ask for nothing. Draft the settlement and send it. I’ll ask him myself. You won’t need to meet Igyeol separately.”

This was no litigation—yet Dohyeon framed everything around Go Igyeol.

None of the terms were to his advantage; in fact, many disadvantaged him.

The only right he claimed was parental authority.

“As a lawyer, I’ll say nothing. But as your friend—if you divorce on these terms, people will call you a fool. You’re not at fault here. You’re not divorcing over abuse or adultery. It’s just incompatibility. Who grants divorce on such terms unless they’ve lost their mind? If you’re to become strangers anyway, take what you can.”

“You’re right. I’ve lost my mind. Now go.”

He rose to his feet, movements precise and clean.

Halfway to his desk, he stopped and turned.

Seunghui was still bent over his notes, his lips pursed in a pout.

Dohyeon’s voice cut across the room.

“And one more thing—I nearly forgot. Watch your tongue. These details must remain confidential. If a word leaks, you won’t be able to practice law anywhere in this country. In fact… you might find yourself unable to do anything at all.”

His cool voice made the hairs at his nape stand on end.

Forcing his face into a mask of levity, he managed a reply.

“Of course. I’ll draft the new agreement and be in touch.”

Gathering his things hastily, he left.

Alone once more, Dohyeon leaned against the window and stared down at the dizzying view below.

In an instant, helplessness descended, heavy and complete.