Divorce Contract C127

Chapter 127

Unfortunately, Seo I-hyeon did not wake.

Go Igyeol quietly set his spoon down, careful not to make a sound. Seo Dohyeon had already finished his meal, yet, as always, he did not rise from his seat until Igyeol had put down his own utensils. Thus ended their meal—steeped in suffocating awkwardness and unbearable silence.

A dull heaviness lingered in his stomach, as though every bite he had swallowed had settled and stacked in his chest. Avoiding Dohyeon’s gaze, Igyeol pressed at the space between his fingers, pretending to busy himself. When Dohyeon returned with a glass of water, Igyeol offered to clean up, but the request was refused.

“I’ll take care of it. You should check if I-hyeon’s awake.”

“Ah… all right.”

Murmuring thanks, Igyeol stood and awkwardly excused himself. He could feel Dohyeon’s gaze clinging to his back—too warm, too intent. He was relieved not to have to meet it.

His forehead felt clammy with sweat as he rubbed it dry and gripped the nursery doorknob. Pressing his ear lightly to the door, he listened. Silence. The baby was still asleep.

When he opened the door, a gentle, sweet scent rushed out. The warm air and bright light filling the room brought an involuntary smile to his lips. He moved soundlessly, his slippers gliding over the floor.

Inside the crib, ringed with soft padding, Seo I-hyeon slept peacefully. His faint, rhythmic breaths brushed against Igyeol’s ears like a tickling breeze. Standing by the crib, Igyeol looked down at his son’s face for a long, unbroken moment—until he sensed someone’s presence behind him.

“…He’s still asleep.”

He turned slightly as Seo Dohyeon entered, informing him softly. Dohyeon did not leave; instead, he stepped closer, standing beside Igyeol to look down at the sleeping child. The baby’s exposed skin was pink as a ripe peach, his small form so perfect it seemed almost unreal.

Yes, I-hyeon’s skin had always been that way—like a peach, tender and luminous. And though Igyeol had never been able to indulge him with the fruits he’d craved during his pregnancy, the baby was still so beautiful. As if to remind him of every mistake, every ounce of guilt, he looked like that.

A familiar ache spread through Igyeol’s chest, but he couldn’t look away. The child’s closed eyes mirrored his own. His long lashes, the even curve of his brows—those were Igyeol’s. And when those eyes opened, their jewel-like gleam, those large, round pupils that seemed too bright for his small face—all of it resembled him more than anyone else. A small mercy, he thought.

Still watching, Dohyeon spoke softly, his voice breaking the stillness.

“He’s still asleep. Looks like he’ll nap a bit longer.”

“How long does he usually sleep?”

“About four hours, then he wakes up.”

“And when he does—what should we do?”

His quiet question made Igyeol glance sideways at him. Seeing the genuine curiosity on Dohyeon’s face, he couldn’t help but smile faintly.

“Check his diaper, feed him if he’s hungry, play with him. Hold him, read to him… talk to him often. It helps him start babbling earlier. Lately, he’s been spending a lot of time in his stroller—he really likes it.”

“Ah, that’s why Kwon Seunggyu suggested taking him outside.”

“Yes. They say he’ll like it even more outdoors, because he gets to see new things.”

The low murmur of his voice was soft and pleasant to hear. Dohyeon leaned slightly closer, pretending to listen more carefully. The small movement made Igyeol falter for a moment before continuing, his voice resuming at a whisper.

“Once he goes out, they say he’ll want to go again and again.”

“Then I’ll have to look up where parents usually take their babies around this time of year.”

“It’s his first time going out, so going too far might be difficult. But there’s a park nearby…”

Had he sounded too cheerful? When he talked about I-hyeon, his voice always rose unconsciously, though he tried not to let it. He fell silent, his expression dimming, the shift in mood sudden and sharp. Dohyeon straightened from his half-leaning posture.

“Let’s go to the park together when he wakes.”

“…All right.”

“Will you stay here for now?”

“I think… I should.”

“Then do that.”

His hand twitched instinctively toward him but stopped midair before making contact. Too intimate a gesture. Dohyeon gave a small nod and turned away. He left the door slightly ajar but did not look back.

While Go Igyeol stayed with the baby, Seo Dohyeon caught up on work. He reviewed brief reports, summarized meetings he’d missed, and left comments on unclear points before forwarding them to Yoon Jaeseon. Finally, he closed his laptop.

Still no sound from the nursery.

Four hours had nearly passed; the baby’s continued sleep was understandable, but Igyeol’s silence felt too still. Surely, by now, he’d have stepped out, even briefly.

Checking the time, Dohyeon rose and approached the door. After a short hesitation, he knocked lightly and spoke, voice low.

“Go Igyeol-ssi.”

A soft rap—barely audible. Moments later, the door opened, revealing a pale-faced Igyeol. His brows knit faintly as he asked what was wrong. But at the sight of him, Dohyeon forgot the reason he’d come.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

“…Me? No, I’m fine. Really.”

He didn’t look fine at all. His complexion, always fair, was now ghostly pale.

“Igyeol-ssi.”

Without another word, Dohyeon reached out and pulled him gently but firmly from the room. The sudden motion made Igyeol wince and let out a faint groan.

Dohyeon recalled how easily he got indigestion when anxious—and how strained their meal together had been. His spoon had moved too quickly, his posture too rigid.

He guided him to the sofa and sat him down. When their hands brushed, his fingers were cold to the touch, deepening Dohyeon’s frown. Fetching the medicine box, he found the digestive tablets and brought them with lukewarm water. Igyeol took them without question.

Leaning limply against the backrest, he closed his eyes. His eyelids trembled faintly, his long lashes quivering like fine threads, making him seem even more fragile. After a pause, Dohyeon hesitated, then took his hand.

Startled by the sudden contact, Igyeol’s body tensed, his eyes flying open, wary and uncertain. Without a word, Dohyeon unfolded his curled fingers and pressed firmly between his thumb and forefinger.

“…Ah…!”

Pain flashed across his face, his delicate brow furrowing tightly. Dohyeon glanced down at his neatly trimmed nails, then back at him.

“…That hurts.”

“Should we go to the hospital?”

“…No. It’s fine. I’ll manage. I took the medicine—it’ll pass.”

That word—manage—struck him like a bruise. Always enduring, always pretending it was nothing.

When Igyeol tried to pull his hand back, Dohyeon didn’t let go. Sighing softly, Igyeol relented and relaxed his fingers, leaning back again.

“I knew you might feel uncomfortable eating with me, but I didn’t think it’d make you sick.”

“……”

“Maybe we should eat separately from now on.”

“…It’s not that. I’ve always had a weak stomach. It usually gets better after some medicine—or if I drink the plum tea my aunt makes. I’ll be fine soon.”

His voice was calm, his eyes slow to blink. Even while in pain, he tried to ease Dohyeon’s guilt. Still kind. Still thoughtful, despite everything.

Dohyeon held his gaze for a moment, then pressed again into his palm. Each time, Igyeol’s face flinched slightly, a faint sigh escaping his dry lips.

“He’ll probably wake soon…”

“I can take him for a walk alone. You should rest.”

“…Alone?”

“It doesn’t seem too difficult. It’d be nice if we went together, but… lying down might be better for you.”

The words were simple, almost casual, and yet Igyeol let out a small laugh.

Of course. Everything seemed easy for a man like Seo Dohyeon. Perhaps even I-hyeon’s first walk would go perfectly under his care. But could it really? Raising a child never went according to plan.

“All right. Do as you wish.”

His gentle tone carried a quiet resignation that Dohyeon failed to hear. In his mind, he was already planning the route—he would stop by the porridge shop on his way back, bring something soft for Igyeol to eat.

“…It hurts.”

“Then we should go to the hospital. Enduring it won’t help.”

He began to rise, but Igyeol caught his hand. The grip wasn’t strong, yet Dohyeon couldn’t move.

“Just… a little longer. Please.”

He looked down at that pale hand clutching his. The skin between his thumb and forefinger was flushed from the pressure. Slowly, color began returning to Igyeol’s cheeks.

Silently, Dohyeon resumed, massaging his hand in slow, steady motions. He waited for him to say that’s enough—but the words never came. The stiffness beneath his touch gradually eased.

Switching to his other hand, he repeated the motion. Igyeol’s eyes drifted unfocused toward the ceiling, his brow tightening only slightly now and then.

But the fragile calm they shared would not last long.