Divorce Contract C135

Chapter 135

Yoon Jaeseon listened in silence before asking again about the suspicious pair’s appearance.

“The man was wearing a cap pulled low. The woman had long hair. I didn’t see their faces clearly, but… I think it was Go Heeju and Go Minjun.”

If it hadn’t been for the photos he’d received regularly, Seo Dohyeon wouldn’t have paid them any mind — wouldn’t have cared whether a drunk was clinging to a tree or vomiting by the roadside. But the long-haired woman’s coat had caught his attention. It was the same one from the photo — a grimy, expensive-looking long padded jacket that didn’t match her shabby appearance. Without that, he might not have suspected anything at all.

“Find out what those two were doing today. If it really was Heeju and Minjun, then they’re probably here to find Igyeol. They’ve finally tracked him down. But I don’t want them anywhere near him. What do you think, Secretary Yoon?”

— I agree, sir. Completely.

“There’s not much I can do for Go Igyeol right now,” Dohyeon said quietly. “So at the very least, I want him to live peacefully. Without being bothered.”

— I’ll help however I can, sir — in every way possible.

“I wish I were the only one pestering him,” Dohyeon muttered bitterly. “But they just keep clinging to him like parasites.”

— They probably feel desperate, sir. When people are trapped, they’ll grab even the flimsiest straw they can find.

“You’re calling Go Igyeol a straw now?”

— It was just a figure of speech, sir.

“Look at the people around him — a mess, every last one of them. How do you think that makes me look? Probably like I’m no different. I’m trying to earn back his trust, but I keep losing ground. It’s infuriating.”

His frustration was raw, unfiltered. Running a tense hand through his hair, Dohyeon let out a long sigh. The cold air turned it white before it faded. He’d been out too long already. He needed to end this.

“Report to me as soon as you confirm it.”

— Yes, sir. Please rest now.

He hung up, went back inside, and immediately washed his hands in the bathroom sink. He didn’t want to carry the cold air from outside into the house.

Then he checked on Seo I-hyeon. The baby was still asleep, peaceful and still. Around this age, they were supposed to wake several times during the night, but I-hyeon hadn’t stirred once. Dohyeon’s hands were cold, so he gently brushed the baby’s arm through the blanket before pulling back and leaving the room.

He didn’t close the door all the way — just enough to hear if the baby cried. He could’ve stayed there the rest of the night if he was that worried, but he found himself wanting to return upstairs. To the other room. To him.

Conflicted and restless, Dohyeon made his way to his bedroom.

There, Go Igyeol still slept exactly as before. The flush from alcohol had faded from his face, his breathing even. Dohyeon sat at the bedside, fighting the urge to touch his cheek, and thought instead about the two people he had seen.

Should he even tell Igyeol?

If he knew his siblings were here — in that state — he’d worry. He’d pity them. He’d want to help.

Even now, he still hadn’t escaped Go Daesik’s shadow. Dohyeon had thought that if the man was out of sight, Igyeol could start to forget. But he’d been wrong. Daesik still haunted him — even in dreams.

And if, on top of that, he learned that Daesik’s family was nearby… he’d probably blame himself again. He’d try to take responsibility for people who had never once treated him like family.

No.

He wouldn’t let that happen.

Dohyeon made up his mind — he’d handle it quietly. Whatever those two were planning, it would end before they ever came face-to-face with Igyeol.

He’d remove every single thing that could hurt him. Even if one of those things turned out to be himself.

When Go Igyeol opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Seo Dohyeon’s sleeping face.

For a moment, he wondered if it was a dream.

The bedding was soft, too soft. The air smelled different. The ceiling wasn’t his. Everything felt foreign.

He blinked several times, staring at the man lying beside him — still, calm, infuriatingly close. He wished it was a dream. But when he reached out and lightly touched the corner of Dohyeon’s closed eye, the warmth beneath his fingertip told him otherwise.

It was real.

Not a dream.

The realization froze him.

Dohyeon’s brow furrowed faintly at the touch, his lashes twitching.

Don’t wake him. Don’t wake him.

Igyeol closed his eyes and took a slow breath, calculating how to leave without making a sound. When asleep, the man was less sharp, less guarded. If he moved carefully, he might make it out unnoticed.

He silently counted to ten, then slowly opened his eyes again.

Keeping his gaze locked on Dohyeon’s face, he lifted the blanket inch by inch. The sound of fabric rustling seemed unbearably loud.

Every time Dohyeon’s brow twitched, Igyeol froze, holding his breath. Sweat prickled at the back of his neck as he finally managed to slide off the bed.

On tiptoe, he crept toward the door.

It was slightly ajar — thank God.

He slipped out, closing it as quietly as he could, and hurried downstairs.

Only when he reached the first floor did his body unclench. His breath escaped him in a shaky rush. Covering his mouth with his hand, he made straight for Seo I-hyeon’s room.

The baby wasn’t awake yet — it was still early — but he needed to see him. Just to make sure.

Was he okay? Did he sleep well?

He stood by the crib for a long while, gazing down at the small, peaceful face. The baby’s breathing was steady, his lips soft, his cheeks rosy.

So this was what “sleeping through the night” meant.

He was glad — relieved, even. Especially since Kwon Seunggyu wasn’t here to help; he’d worried the baby might feel unsettled.

He reached out instinctively — then stopped short.

He hadn’t washed since drinking last night.

He shouldn’t touch him like this.

He’d wash first, then come back to feed him.

Nodding to himself, he left and went into his own room.

As he undressed and dropped his clothes into the laundry basket, fragments of the previous night flickered dimly in his mind.

He remembered Dohyeon saying he’d go buy jelly… and then nothing.

“What even happened after that…?”

He frowned, trying to piece it together. Nothing came.

“I don’t remember.”

It was frustrating — but maybe there was simply nothing to remember. Maybe he’d just fallen asleep.

Still, the thought that he might have done something embarrassing made him groan aloud.

“Ugh, why there, of all places…”

He dragged his hands down his face, wanting to crawl out of his skin. His eyes burned faintly, as if he’d cried at some point.

As he rubbed his face, something rough brushed against his cheek.

“…Huh?”

He looked down.

A bandage — light brown, neatly applied — clung to his palm.

He blinked at it.

He hadn’t put it there. He wouldn’t have bothered.

He wasn’t the kind of person who treated minor cuts.

If he’d been drinking, even less likely.

Which meant—

His brow furrowed. He looked down at his knee.

There, too, was a large bandage, covering the spot he’d scraped when he fell earlier.

He ran his fingers over it gently.

“…So he did this.”

It shouldn’t have meant anything. It changed nothing.

And yet, his chest tightened.

How could such a small act undo all his resolve so easily?

No matter how many times he told himself not to feel anything, his heart always betrayed him.

He sighed, turned on the shower, and stepped in.

Warm water poured over him, clearing the last fog of sleep.

He washed twice, brushed his teeth twice, shampooed his hair again just to rid himself of the lingering scent of alcohol.

Even so, he still felt… unsettled.

Leaning his forehead against the wall, he exhaled.

I don’t want to go out there.

Maybe it was because he couldn’t remember what he’d done. Maybe he was afraid of what he’d see in Dohyeon’s eyes.

He dried himself mechanically, towelled his hair, and reached for the dryer — when a soft cry echoed through the hall.

I-hyeon.

He dropped the towel and hurried out, nearly slipping on the wet floor. Catching the wall just in time, he sprinted to the nursery — and froze in the doorway.

Dohyeon was already there, holding the baby, his expression relaxed, his voice low and warm as he turned.

“When did you wake up?”

The sound of that voice — quiet, still rough from sleep — made Igyeol’s breath hitch. Without realizing it, he took a step back.

“Just… a little while ago,” he said softly.

“I woke up and you were gone. It startled me.”

“…About last night,” Igyeol said, bowing his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know what came over me.”

At the sudden apology, Dohyeon’s expression shifted — pained, almost. But he quickly masked it, gently rubbing the baby’s back as his eyes met Igyeol’s.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. Don’t you remember?”