Divorce Contract C109

Chapter 109

With his face swollen from tears, Go Igyeol stepped back into the house and let his gaze sweep over the space, which offered nothing worth gathering. Shin Eunsuk was busy outside, loading their belongings into the car, and the babysitter had already taken Seo Ihyeon and boarded the vehicle. Left alone, told to check if anything had been forgotten, Igyeol stood forlornly in the middle of the living room.

There were no memories here, no traces of a life lived. Even the smallest trinkets were things Seo Dohyeon had chosen, leaving Igyeol with no desire to take them. The house looked no different from the day he had first moved in. Only the people were gone.

Creak—thud. The sound of the door opening drew his attention. As he turned, Igyeol’s eyes widened at the sight of the man removing his fedora as he stepped inside.

“It’s been a while.”

It was Seo Jeongjae. The last time they had met was at the hospital, when he had brought the paternity test results. Since then, he had not sought Igyeol out. Now he stood there, solemn-faced. Startled by his sudden arrival, Igyeol froze, then quickly bowed his head.

“Hello.”

“Yes, you’ve not been well.”

Answering a question not asked, Jeongjae gave a rough hum and moved further inside. Feeling awkward, Igyeol lifted his head.

“I thought I should see you once more before you left.”

“……”

“I swore, even if the heavens split, that there would be no divorce. But then… that damned Dohyeon went and wrote up that absurd premarital contract with you. When I saw that, I understood. The nonsense was not the divorce—it was the marriage itself.”

His gravelly voice spread heavily through the air. With clouded eyes, Jeongjae looked at Igyeol with pity.

“If you needed a place to hide, you should have come to me.”

“……”

“If you had… at least then… No, it doesn’t matter. What’s past cannot be changed. Age makes one foolishly sentimental.”

He closed his mouth, realizing that speaking of ‘what ifs’ would not alter anything. More than the regret of never having held his great-grandson, what weighed heavier was the regret of letting Igyeol go.

“I have no face to show you.”

“…Please don’t say that.”

“Take care of yourself. Guard your health.”

At last he approached and took Igyeol’s small hand in his. He gazed at the red scratches still marking the back of it and gently patted over them.

“I thought you’d been treated with kindness. Learning it was otherwise turned my sky dark.”

“……”

“I’ll scold Dohyeon thoroughly. So go without fear.”

“Thank you, for everything. Please stay well.”

With eyes shimmering red, Igyeol bowed. Jeongjae, his own eyes damp, nodded. When he finally let go of the hand he held, Igyeol gave him a faint, wavering smile and moved toward the door. Even as the sound of the door opening and closing echoed, Jeongjae remained still. He thought, with relief, how fortunate he was not to have erred against Igyeol before. Only because of that could he have this final farewell. He rubbed at his eyes and released a sigh of relief.

As soon as Igyeol stepped outside, he was met by a fretful Shin Eunsuk. She hurried to him, searching his face as though afraid he might have suffered something harsh again.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“You insisted on going in alone so firmly….”

Her eyes flicked toward the entrance, then quickly returned. Igyeol did not answer further, only took her hand.

“Let’s go. There was nothing left behind.”

He checked that Seo Ihyeon, fastened in the car seat, was sleeping, then climbed into the vehicle. It was not the worn SUV Shin Eunsuk usually drove.

“Oh, this… it’s…”

“You did well.”

He did not need to ask who had prepared it. Fastening the belt clip, he let out a long sigh.

“Igyeol, listen, this car, I—”

“…It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

Because it was a weekday and at an odd hour, the highway was clear. Though he had known it was not far from Seoul, they arrived quicker than he expected. Inside, unlike the unchanged exterior, the pension had been transformed. Startled by how different it looked, Igyeol turned to Eunsuk.

“It’s beautiful.”

“…Yes. It feels like another place.”

“I’d only seen it in pictures till now, but in person—it’s even more incredible.”

Even Eunsuk, the owner, seemed pleased. Meanwhile, the babysitter, soothing a now-fussy Ihyeon, asked where they should go in. Saying the baby needed changing and feeding, Eunsuk opened wide the door Igyeol had just inspected with her.

“Here. Use this room.”

“Yes.”

He passed by her, carrying Ihyeon inside. His glance asked if the door would remain open; Eunsuk closed it for him. Then, as she went downstairs with Igyeol, she whispered softly.

“He really does seem good with Ihyeon, but somehow… a little cold.”

“…Ah.”

“And he’s so quiet. Are you all right with that?”

“I’m fine. As long as he cares for Ihyeon well, that’s enough.”

At Igyeol’s awkward smile, she patted his shoulder. “That’s all that matters, then.” She nudged him gently. “Go on in, check for yourself.”

“You should rest too, Auntie.”

“Mm, I’ll fix us lunch. Don’t know if there’s food in the house. Might have to step out for some.”

With a laugh, she turned away. With trembling hands, Igyeol grasped the front door handle. Slowly opening it, he was greeted by the sudden flare of the sensor light. There was no shadow within. Perhaps because it was midday, but the whole space felt warm, bright. Decorated in pale lavender and white, the atmosphere was cozy, inviting.

Almost unconsciously, he stepped out of his shoes and entered. The space was harmoniously arranged, every corner visible with a mere turn of the head: a low bed, a single armchair, a round stool, a recliner, a soft rug, a rounded dining set, even the sleek wireless TV he had once seen in advertisements. In the tiny kitchen stood a water purifier, coffee machine, and a mini-fridge tucked neatly under the sink.

But what seized his attention was the wall of glass that opened onto the terrace. Drawn as if bewitched, Igyeol pushed open the door and found a small glass-domed conservatory awaiting him.

He slipped on the neatly lined slippers and stepped outside, hand pressing the latch. Click— the door opened softly, and warm air enveloped him. The glass walls were filled with greenery, pots overflowing with vivid blossoms.

Reaching out to touch a leaf, Igyeol’s lips curved in a smile—only to twist at once. His nose stung, his eyes burned. To hold back tears, he bit down hard on his lip.

“…Haa.”

He sat for a long while on the bench, steadying himself, resting his cheek on his knees as he gazed at the scenery beyond the glass. Alone, inevitably, he thought of Seo Dohyeon. Ridiculously, he had not faded at all. Perhaps the one clinging, the one heavy with regret, was not Dohyeon—but himself. That even after all that had happened, he still could not let him go—he despised himself for it.

But he told himself it could not be helped. He pressed his palm against his eyes, catching tears before they fell. He was simply a man who could never throw anything away. That first love, so carefully cherished, had been torn and dirtied, but it was still his. However battered, it remained his alone. And so he resolved to keep it hidden, deep inside.

Seo Dohyeon received word that Go Igyeol had arrived safely. Only after confirming the photograph of him sitting in the glass conservatory did he slip his phone back into his pocket.

“Tsk.”

Watching him, Seo Jeongjae clicked his tongue. He had come intending to lash him with reproaches, but finding him in such disarray, he muttered instead, wondering whose idiocy he had inherited. Settling heavily, he sipped the tea Yoon Jaeseon had served.

“Why did you come?”

“I went to see Igyeol.”

“I heard.”

“I thought you’d stop me at the door.”

Setting down the teacup with a soft clink, he cast the question sideways. Dohyeon’s weary features tightened as he replied.

“What for?”

“And what harm did you think I would do him?”

“You couldn’t.”

“No, I couldn’t. Couldn’t and wouldn’t! Which is why—you must end this cleanly. He is still so young. He deserves to meet another Alpha, one who will cherish him, and begin anew.”

Jeongjae’s gaze lingered on the scratched hand he had held. Compared to a life beside a man like Dohyeon, a gentler future seemed far better.

“Our divorce will be in the papers. I wanted you to know in advance.”

“Quick enough, at last. I’ve already seen to it. I won’t stand by and watch that child dragged into gossip. People won’t even care about your divorce.”

Dohyeon lifted his eyes at that. The thick fingers, incongruous around a porcelain cup, set it down with a sharp clack.

“No thanks are needed. I did it for Igyeol, not for you.”

Despite his neat attire, Jeongjae’s face was rough, and he shook his head. Igyeol is not as wretched as you, yet look at you—what a mess. He clicked his tongue again, voice heavy.

“Is it only now that regret comes? The bus has long departed.”

“Leave.”

“I would have gone anyway, even if you begged me to stay. And stop hiding yourself away. Do you think you’re the only couple ever to divorce? If that was how it would end, you should have treated him better from the start, you damned fool.”

He jabbed a thick finger at him, cleared his throat, and rose.

“If regret is spilling from you, then go—beg him. Whether he forgives or not, at least beg. Then he can decide whether to cast you off or not. But looking at you now, even if you begged on your knees, you’d still be thrown aside, wouldn’t you?”