Divorce Contract C118

Chapter 118 

 

(Content Warning: This chapter contains depictions of self-harm.)

After hearing Seo Dohyeon’s final answer—that he would at last let go—an ordinary, yet far from peaceful, routine unfolded.

The counseling sessions Go Igyeol had faithfully attended even before his discharge showed no progress, and the prescribed medication yielded little effect.

Day by day, Igyeol sank deeper into melancholy, and his sleep lengthened. His chest rose and fell so faintly that more than once Shin Eunsuk, in a panic, had burst into the room to check his breathing. She made it a habit, whenever she came in from outside, to open his door without fail and peer inside.

Igyeol kept the curtains drawn, so that even midday was as dark as night, and often he would sit blankly in the gloom. Each time Eunsuk saw him like this, she felt that no matter how severe postpartum depression might be, it was difficult to accept or excuse such a sight.

He could not say he was even passably well. His days flowed in extremes: either sleeping the whole time, or remaining constantly at Seo Ihyeon’s side.

But even his hours with Ihyeon shifted when the additional babysitter hired by Dohyeon began to visit. Watching Ihyeon grow, well cared for in the arms of the two sitters, Igyeol increasingly felt that his place was vanishing. No—that he himself was unnecessary.

And the moment he realized it, a strange impulse stirred. Watching the baby lie peacefully in a sitter’s embrace, Igyeol pressed his fingernail into his palm until the skin dented deep, and awkwardly murmured his thanks for taking such good care of Ihyeon. He left without lingering. On his way out, he ran into Shin Eunsuk.

“Igyeol, where are you going?”

“…I feel stifled. I thought I’d take a walk.”

“Goodness, a walk? That’s good, that’s very good. Sunlight in the day will do you well. Yes, go on, take your time.”

Delighted, she even clapped her hands, though she wasn’t sure why exactly she felt relieved. Her gaze then dropped, lingering especially on his feet—bare toes, wholly exposed.

“But won’t it be cold? The snow will make the roads slippery too. Shouldn’t you at least change into proper shoes?”

“It’s fine.”

But Igyeol was not cold. Perhaps it was the freshness of being outside after so long, or perhaps it was the prickling sting spreading from his palm, where his nail had pierced, that felt almost welcome. With each slow step, the tender flesh of his palm was gouged. Blood welled up from the raw skin.

The wind was biting enough to numb his face, yet the sensation in his palm was both chilling and strangely relieving. Droplets of blood traced his lifelines and fell, one by one, upon the white-frozen snow.

“…Ow.”

He spoke the word aloud, but no pain reached him. Moving further into the shaded path where sunlight did not reach, he finally sank down onto the ground. He rubbed his bloodied palms against the hardened snow, then studied the wounds closely.

“……”

A sharper tool, a deeper wound—that impulse surged again. Shocked that he could harbor such a thought, his dimmed eyes flew wide. His breath came ragged, as if strangled. Scratching desperately at his throat, livid streaks scored the fragile skin.

“Khuk—keuk—”

The terror that he might truly suffocate brought tears to his eyes. Writhing, gasping, Igyeol twisted, until suddenly someone rushed in.

“It’s all right. Breathe. Inhale, exhale. Slowly. You’re all right.”

The man lifted Igyeol’s convulsing body from the ground, secured his airway, and urged him through the motions—long exhale, slow inhale, again. With a crimson face, Igyeol obeyed, breath ragged, as tears spilled down his cheeks.

“You’re safe.”

And just as his breathing returned, his eyes rolled back and his body went slack. The man carefully gathered him up and pressed the radio button clipped to his shirt.

“VIP in transit,” he murmured.

When the unfamiliar man carried Igyeol into the pension, Shin Eunsuk, seeing the state he was in, let out a scream before she could stop herself.

“Where should I place him?”

“Wh-why… what’s happened to him? My poor Igyeol—how… How did this— Here, here, in this room!”

Her face pale as paper, she stumbled several times on her way to the door, finally flinging it open and hurrying to the bed. She pulled back the covers, asking the man to lay him down there.

“Thank you, thank you. Oh heavens, what is happening to him…”

Her face twisted as she looked at his battered palms and the raw scratches striping his neck. With her eyes brimming, she pressed her knuckles to them, then turned to the man.

“Truly—thank you again.”

“It’s nothing. I merely followed Executive Director Seo’s orders.”

Of course—no stranger would appear here, out of nowhere, at just that moment. She had suspected, and indeed, it was so.

“…Please, thank Seo Dohyeon on my behalf as well. And… could you ask him if he might call me? I’d like to speak with him.”

“I’ll relay it.”

After he left, only Eunsuk and Igyeol remained in the small room. Sitting quietly to steady her racing heart, she then rose, removed his heavy cardigan, and with a warm, damp cloth wiped his hands and face.

She fetched antiseptic, ointment, and bandages, tending carefully to his wounds—first his palm, then the angry lines along his neck. She clicked her tongue despite herself, eyes watering with pity.

Listening to his shallow, even breaths, she stayed for a while, until her phone vibrated in her pocket. Afraid to wake him, she turned away, hurrying outside to answer.

“H-hello?”

• “This is Seo Dohyeon.” 

“…Ah. Yes.”

Though she had asked for the call, once it came, she faltered. Should she ask after his welfare? Offer polite greetings? As she hesitated, his low voice cut in.

• “I’ve already been informed.” 

As if he knew what she meant to say, he began first. Eunsuk, hearing the husk in his voice, abandoned hesitation and spoke plainly.

“…Perhaps you don’t know in detail, but Igyeol’s condition is worsening. He takes his counseling seriously, he takes all his medicine—but nothing improves.”

Once the words began, she could not stop them. Looking back at the dark house where Igyeol lay sleeping, her voice grew heavy.

“I heard about that time—when you left him alone, and Ihyeon fell sick. They said you helped. Of course you did—you’re his father. And maybe it weighed on your mind, leaving Igyeol alone, so you hired another sitter, to make sure it wouldn’t happen again.”

She paused, checking that the call was still connected.

• “I’m listening. Please continue.” 

“It’s all good, all for the best, but… because there are more people caring for Ihyeon now, Igyeol feels his place is disappearing. He thinks he isn’t needed. He spends less time with Ihyeon than before, and now… he only sleeps.

“I know you’ve decided to part ways, and perhaps this is improper to say, but—I can’t bear it. It’s too suffocating to watch.”

Her concern for Igyeol carried in it a trace of bitterness toward Dohyeon. Whose fault was all this, after all? Why was Dohyeon untouched, while Igyeol alone bore the torment?

“…Seo Dohyeon, do you even worry for him? If you truly did, you’d show your face more often. Ah—no. Forgive me, I’ve let my emotions—”

• “I understand.” 

“…Yes. If I, of all people, am like this, how must he feel? Watching him suffer like this… it’s unbearable.”

Swallowing a sigh, she closed her eyes. She knew she was lashing out at the wrong person.

When Dohyeon finally said he would come at once, she stammered an apology. He answered only, “It’s fine.” Then the call ended.

Eunsuk stood frozen, staring at the phone before tucking it back into her pocket. Her chest ached, so heavy she pressed her fist against her sternum, lifting her gaze to the sky. Was this the right thing to do? She could not tell.

But she knew this much: Igyeol’s state improved, however slightly, when he saw Dohyeon, more so than when he did not. Even if it was meddling, even if it was presumptuous—she believed she had to bring Seo Dohyeon back to his side.