Divorce Contract C129

Chapter 129

Tears clung to his closed lashes, damp and trembling.

Having run through the cold air for who knew how long, Go Igyeol’s clothes and face were soaked with sweat. Seo Dohyeon gently pried Igyeol’s shaking hands from his own and wrapped his coat around him.

His shoes didn’t even match. On his bare feet—one wore Dohyeon’s dress shoe, the other, a slipper of his own. Without socks. Dohyeon rubbed Igyeol’s chilled forehead with his palm, guiding him into the shop.

The warmth of the place wrapped around them the moment they stepped inside. He seated Igyeol in a chair and pulled the stroller closer.

“He didn’t even cry. He was too fascinated by everything outside. See? I-hyeon’s been here the whole time, safe and sound.”

It had been pure chance. Dohyeon had stopped by the porridge shop to get dinner for Igyeol, and his eyes had wandered toward the street—only to catch a familiar silhouette among the crowd.

Before he’d even realized it was Go Igyeol, his body had already moved.

He’d run.

Thank God he hadn’t been a second too late.

Relief washed through him as he watched Igyeol exhale shakily, gazing at I-hyeon in the stroller, who was smiling and waving his small hands. Yet his eyes were still red and wet with unspent tears.

“The house was empty…”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve gone back sooner. That was my mistake.”

“I didn’t know it was a dream. I thought my father came and took I-hyeon. I thought someone broke into the house—it felt so real. I really believed it.”

Even now, his face was ghostly pale. He hadn’t yet calmed down. His trembling hands gripped the stroller’s handlebar tightly.

“That can happen. Sometimes dreams don’t feel like dreams at all.”

“…”

“Why are you shaking so much?”

“I-I don’t know. I was just… so scared…”

A surge of pheromones spilled from him, the air thickening, and Igyeol’s eyes crumpled with shame. Dohyeon hesitated for a long moment. He didn’t want to use pheromones like this—not on him, not unless he wanted it. But there was no other way to help him calm down.

“Look at me.”

“…”

“This is all I know how to do.”

Their eyes met—wet, unfocused, trembling. Slowly, Dohyeon released his pheromones.

A familiar scent enveloped Igyeol, seeping into his skin like warmth after frostbite. Goosebumps rose along his arms, then eased as the warmth spread beneath his skin. His eyelids fluttered, opening halfway before closing again. Tears, finally freed, slipped from the corners of his eyes.

Just as Dohyeon had said, this was the only thing either of them knew to do.

Igyeol’s limp hands found Dohyeon’s waist, holding weakly. With each deep breath, the tremor in his body faded little by little. Dohyeon stroked his back slowly, murmuring, “It’s all right,” as he gathered him gently into his arms.

Igyeol buried his face against his chest in silence. The pounding of Dohyeon’s heart was fast, unsteady—and strangely comforting. That, somehow, was the saddest part.

“Nothing happened. Nothing will happen. I’ll make sure nothing ever happens.”

“…”

“It’s all right now.”

Dohyeon’s chest ached for him. For this man who couldn’t even dream peacefully, who had known no rest. For the fact that he himself hadn’t been there when Igyeol woke up—hadn’t been there to stop the nightmare from finding him.

When Igyeol’s trembling finally subsided, the shop owner called out that their order was ready.

Igyeol reluctantly let go, lifting his head from Dohyeon’s chest. Dohyeon’s warm hand brushed the wetness beneath his eyes before withdrawing, and the faintly shimmering connection of pheromones was quietly sealed away.

As Dohyeon glanced down, his eyes caught on Igyeol’s bare ankles and toes poking out from the too-large slipper. The sight made him frown. Even if he changed shoes, wearing his own dress shoe on one foot would only make things worse.

Maybe he should carry him instead.

But he could already feel the refusal forming before even asking.

Sensing where Dohyeon’s eyes had landed, Igyeol tucked his foot back awkwardly.

“It’s fine. Really. I can walk.”

He said it softly, as if to head off Dohyeon’s concern.

Without arguing, Dohyeon turned, picking up the shopping bag. Then, pretending it was only to steady him, he took Igyeol’s hand and helped him to his feet.

“Let’s go.”

At the quiet command, Igyeol nodded faintly. His gaze lingered on I-hyeon, then drifted toward the glass door. Embarrassment crept up belatedly, flushing his face bright red. Now, fully awake, he realized how ridiculous it all must have looked—his panic, his tears, his barefooted flight into the street.

“Here.”

“…What?”

He turned back just as Dohyeon held something out—a small packet dangling between them. The red-and-gold wrapper shimmered under the shop lights.

“I saw a convenience store while walking with I-hyeon, so we went in. Thought it might be fun to look around. I bought this, but I wasn’t sure when or how to give it to you. For a moment, I thought maybe it was pointless. But… I’m glad I did.”

“…”

“Your stomach still hurts, doesn’t it? Maybe it’s too soon to eat.”

“…No. Thank you.”

Looking down at the packet of gummies in his hand, Igyeol turned his face away again, heat creeping higher in his cheeks. Layers upon layers of embarrassment stacked inside him.

He took a slow step forward, pushing the door open. As soon as he stepped outside, Dohyeon came up beside him.

One of his hands held the stroller. The other—the free one—took hold of Igyeol’s.

He could have told him to let go. He didn’t.

Instead, he walked quietly beside him, saying nothing.

For finding him in time.

For keeping I-hyeon safe.

For being there.

There was no reason to pull away.

Passersby couldn’t help but stare at the strange pair—Go Igyeol, walking barefoot in mismatched shoes, dragging one heel as he went, and Seo Dohyeon, dressed only in a knit sweater despite the biting winter cold, pushing a stroller at his side.

After weeks of fruitless searching, finally, they had found him.

Kang Mijin and her daughter, Go Heeju, froze in their tracks, eyes shining. The private investigator they’d hired had taken their money and disappeared, so they had scoured every corner of the city themselves—driven by desperation, by guilt.

They had started searching again from around the hospital and worked backward. The moment had come.

Heeju squeezed her mother’s hand tightly before letting go and began following the pair at a distance.

Mijin’s eyes were bloodshot, every vein burst from sleepless nights. Her breath came in long, weary sighs.

Heeju coughed lightly, pulling her mask up, keeping far enough behind to stay unnoticed. Pretending to scroll on her phone, to pick a song—yet her gaze kept flicking toward her brother.

It had been so long. He didn’t look like he used to, but even now, even like this, he looked so much better than she or their mother. Better than the wrecks they’d become.

Even seeing him stumble, pale and tearstained, didn’t change that thought.

His home wasn’t far. The fact that they’d been so close all along made Mijin’s teeth grind.

From across the street, they watched as he and Dohyeon disappeared into a villa complex. Heeju didn’t follow them in. She didn’t need to—not yet. Now they knew where he lived.

She decided she’d come back later that night, with Minjun.

They crossed the main road. According to what they’d learned, several people were already keeping an eye on Go Igyeol. If they were spotted now, getting close to him again would become impossible.

Heeju bowed her head, letting her hair fall forward to hide her face. No one seemed to be watching, but she stayed alert.

She ducked into a convenience store, bought a drink, and stepped out again, scanning the area. No suspicious faces.

Pulling off her mask, she gulped the cold, carbonated liquid down. The bubbles scratched her throat, and it felt good.

She smiled.

Her steps were light—almost buoyant.

The long-awaited, fated meeting was finally within reach.

Even pressing a hand against her chest couldn’t calm the fluttering thrill.

Heeju broke into a run. When she finally caught up with her mother, she threw her arms around her.

“He was here, Mom. In Seoul. So close—all this time.”

“Let’s go home for now. I’ll come back tonight with Minjun.”

Tears welled in Mijin’s tired eyes. Her daughter—who had never known hardship—looked utterly worn out. Her once radiant skin had dulled; her glossy hair was dry, her soft hands calloused.

It broke her heart.

Mijin rubbed Heeju’s cold hands between her own, murmuring softly,

“If he’s human, he’ll help us. Right? That’s what family does. We help each other when we’re in trouble.”

“…If we ask him one last time, he’ll listen. Igyeol oppa’s kind. He won’t turn us away. No matter what Dad did… we’ll help each other.”

Heeju steadied her mother, holding her up as they boarded the bus.

She glanced down at her own sleeves—faded, grimy, the fabric of her coat long past repair. It must look filthy to others, too.

But the thought didn’t sting anymore. This would all be over soon.

“You’ve done well, Heeju.”

“You too, Mom. After what happened with Dad, it felt hopeless… but now we can fix it.”

“We’ll manage, somehow.”

“But we can’t tell anyone we found him. Not until we meet him. Not until he agrees to help us. No one can know before that.”

That was why she had stopped her mother from rushing toward him earlier. A scene like that—reckless, desperate—would ruin everything.

If they were seen, that man, Go Igyeol’s well-bred husband, would make sure they disappeared again.

If they were to reunite as family, it had to happen when Seo Dohyeon wasn’t there—or at least, in a moment when Igyeol couldn’t possibly turn them away.

“What if he refuses?” Mijin whispered, voice trembling. “What if he says no, Heeju?”

“…Then we tell him we’ll die. That all of us will. You know how soft he is to that. He won’t be able to ignore it.”

Heeju’s eyes gleamed coldly with resolve.

They only needed him once—just once.

A single meeting, disguised as coincidence.

And then, finally, all of this suffering would be over.