Divorce Contract C105

Chapter 105

Na Seunghui’s face flushed crimson with humiliation. His trembling hand slammed against the table as though he could no longer endure it, eyebrows arched high, as if to demand whether an even clearer rejection was necessary. What was he, this man who had failed at marriage and now was headed for divorce, to trample so brutally on another’s heart? Tears threatened to spill, unsightly and shameful, but he barely restrained them and spoke with a trembling voice he could not control.

“I—I can’t take your case.”

“Good. I wasn’t going to entrust it to you anyway.”

“You… you didn’t push me away, did you? And yet it was all just me misunderstanding? Is that it? Before the divorce—you built walls, kept your distance… wasn’t it because of that? But now that you’re divorced…!”

“Oh, so you mistook my lack of interest as not pushing you away? All that on your own?”

The absurdity of Seunghui’s delusions twisted Seo Dohyeon’s face with disgust.

“…What?”

“You really are mistaken. As if I’d cheat on Igyeol with you—you’re not even attractive. You’re older too.”

“You… you really—!”

“That’s what happens when you overstep. You earn words like this.”

His flat, indifferent tone carried not a trace of feeling. Seunghui’s clenched fists trembled as he shot to his feet.

“What was wrong with my eyes? What did I ever see in you? What was I lacking, to… to lower myself this far? I didn’t want to say this, but—”

“Then don’t. I don’t want to hear it either.”

“No! We’ll probably never see each other again, so I’ll say it. Go Igyeol—he’s remarkable, really. You spent his whole pregnancy refusing to believe the child was yours, treating him like nothing. And yet you intend to raise that child? If it were me, I wouldn’t even be able to stand the sight of him. But since you’re willing to hand over custody, I suppose that means he doesn’t hate the child.”

“Na Seunghui.”

Dohyeon’s low voice reverberated, heavy with threat. But Seunghui pressed on, eyes narrowed in scorn.

“I know you. You act like you’re always right, then do things you can’t handle. And now—what? Pretending to care for Go Igyeol, as though that makes up for it? As though it erases what you did? Dohyeon, do you know how many marriages end because of the bitterness of pregnancy? That pain lasts a lifetime. Forgiveness? Don’t even dream of it. He will never understand, never forgive.”

“Ha.”

“Do you even like him? Do you really love him? Because from where I’m standing, it’s nothing but possession and obsession. Feelings that only make him suffer more, only crush him further.”

The moment Dohyeon’s hand clenched into a trembling fist, Seunghui turned and fled the café. The sight of himself retreating so quickly left a bitter taste, but staying a moment longer might have cost him far worse.

Left alone, Seo Dohyeon chewed over the words that lingered. They all gnawed at him, but one phrase struck deepest: The hurt of pregnancy lasts a lifetime. He had never known. He had never considered that countless couples divorced because of it. Was it true? There was no one to ask. Was there truly not a single person around him who could be considered decent, whom he could have turned to? The thought filled him with bleak disillusionment as he rubbed at his brow.

“This is driving me mad.”

To recall how he had treated Go Igyeol throughout his pregnancy was torment itself. Memories surfaced of how he had suffocated him as naturally as breathing. The shame twisted his face. He thought of Igyeol’s counseling sessions, where he had faltered endlessly before confessing that all he had wanted was a peach.

The memory of Igyeol eating a peach at the main house came rushing back. His own voice—scolding him, asking if he was possessed by greed—rang in his ears like a phantom. He remembered with painful clarity the expression Igyeol had worn, the wrinkled hands pushing away the plate, forcing down his appetite. He had known then that nothing stayed down, that nausea consumed him, and yet he had denied him even that small craving.

He had never forbidden him to step outside, but Igyeol had known nonetheless—that he could not leave the front door. Dohyeon could picture him standing by the window, belly heavy, staring at the sunlight he could not touch. His lips pressed tight, his sighs spilling out despite himself.

He had said once that he wanted to give the baby a sweet, affectionate nickname, something to call often. But Dohyeon’s cruel words—What, do you want to do every silly thing other pregnant people do?—had killed that thought. Even when he felt the baby move, he could not bring himself to lay a hand on his belly. Most of the child’s movements had occurred during sex, and all Igyeol could do was clutch his stomach and pray desperately for the act to end quickly.

The more Dohyeon remembered, the more monstrous it became. To think that he had ever dared to want forgiveness—it made him loathe himself.

“Ha…”

When the counselor later explained that Igyeol did not merely hold those memories like a strip of film, but like a knife—sharp, ready to cut afresh each time—he had felt something within him collapse. It was Dohyeon who had pressed that knife into his hand.

Even he remembered these moments with unbearable clarity—so how could Igyeol not? And yet, shamelessly, he had dared to dream of beginning anew.

That night, Go Igyeol lay sleepless. Some part of him thought perhaps Seo Dohyeon might come. But dawn came, and no one knocked. Had he been waiting? The realization that he had been hoping for Dohyeon to appear, even after declaring an end, left him hollow. Awake, yet dazed, as though wandering in fog.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he listlessly raised a hand to his damp cheeks. He hadn’t wanted to cry—yet the tears kept coming. His emotions swung violently. Was it sorrow? Dohyeon had spoken of regret for every moment, but his feelings had not seemed as pitiful, as wretched as his own. Perhaps the scale of their emotions had never matched. The bitterness, the clinging grief—perhaps it was his alone. His chest ached, sharp and unrelenting.

He had thought he would feel relieved. He did not. Not even a little. Harsh memories and tender ones flashed before him in disarray. He wished to forget them both. If only he could erase them.

“Uhh….”

Nothing was easy. Not even knowing how to part from the one he loved. Clutching at his chest, Igyeol wept, lost and desperate, not knowing how to end his first and only love.

Chapter Ⅵ

After that day, Seo Dohyeon did not appear again before him. Only Yoon Jaeseon came briefly on Saturday afternoon to deliver the prepared documents. He promised to return on Monday, but the promise was not kept. Unease gnawed at Igyeol, growing like wildfire, until by the time a week had passed, no word, no sight of Dohyeon or Jaeseon had reached him. When Jaeseon finally appeared on Monday, his face seemed more weary than usual.

“Good day.”

“Hello.”

Shin Eunsuk opened the door, her posture hesitant, neither inside nor out, but soon invited him in. Though he had not planned to step across the threshold, the thought of his superior—his employer, and the father of this child—adrift and unmoored, drove him to remove his shoes. His eyes sharpened with determination; he needed to see with his own eyes how Igyeol was faring, how he was being treated, whether all was truly well.

Eunsuk, accustomed to guests, led him to the living room.

“Please wait here. He’s feeding the baby right now, so he can’t come out immediately.”

The sweet, pervasive scent filling the house explained itself. For a foolish moment, Jaeseon’s eyes brightened with the thought that he might glimpse the infant. But then he remembered his superior, Seo Dohyeon, in his disheveled, broken state, and his shoulders sank. He knew well that Dohyeon had been in the wrong, but pity stirred regardless. Perhaps because Igyeol still had his child and Eunsuk beside him, while Dohyeon stood alone. Against his better judgment, he pitied him.

Eunsuk, watching the man’s shifting expressions, excused herself to fetch tea. A little later, she returned with a tray, setting steaming ginger tea before him, nodding briefly before heading toward the room that must be the nursery.

“Igyeol-ah, the secretary is here.”

She did not knock, but called softly as she turned away. Soon after, the door opened and Go Igyeol appeared. His face was far brighter than the last time Jaeseon had escorted him home. He bowed his head slightly and approached.

“Hello, sir.”

“Good day. I said I would come last week but failed. You must have been waiting. My apologies.”

“As long as nothing happened, that’s what matters… No, it’s fine. Just a moment, I’ll fetch the documents.”

“There’s no need to rush. Take your time.”

But Igyeol, swallowing the words of concern that had risen, moved quickly. He disappeared into his room and returned with a white envelope, inside of which were the divorce agreement and settlement documents. He sat cautiously opposite and handed them across.

“Have you read through them all? If there are any parts you wish to amend, please say so without hesitation.”

“No, there’s nothing.”

Igyeol had checked only the section regarding custody and parental rights, signed it at once, and trusted the rest to have been filled as Dohyeon wished.

“Are you sure you truly read them?”

“……”