Divorce Contract C145

Chapter 145

The house was not far from the flower shop. As soon as Yoon Jaeseon finished parking neatly, he stepped out of the driver’s seat — but Seo Dohyeon did not wait for him to open the door. Coming around toward the trunk, Jaeseon jolted like a startled rabbit when the door suddenly opened ahead of him. Dohyeon exhaled sharply in irritation. He had not realized how inconvenient it would be to go without the use of his right hand. Cradling the bouquet carefully so it would not be crushed, he closed the door with his body.

“Should I stay on standby?”

“Head back. I’m resting until today. See you tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sir. Rest well.”

Yoon Jaeseon opened the entrance for him. Dohyeon walked down the short corridor and stopped in front of the main door. He released a quiet breath and pressed his hand to the lock. The door opened easily with his fingerprint. As he stepped inside, the soft scent of the fabric softener used for Seo Ihyeon drifted into his nose.

The hard tension in his face eased with the gentle fragrance. His heart lifted. Just the knowledge that he had returned to a home where Go Igyeol and Seo Ihyeon were waiting settled his mind and body. His spirit, which had been floating light as air, came crashing down the moment he saw the pile of untouched gifts under the Christmas tree — lying exactly as he had left them.

He froze in front of the tree. A soft click sounded — the bedroom door opening. Rubbing his eyes as if freshly woken, Go Igyeol widened them in surprise when he saw him. He checked the clock on the wall, then back at Dohyeon, and hurried over with a dazed expression.

“Wh— When did you get here? Did you get discharged today?”

“I just arrived.”

“You could have texted…”

Unable to steady the emotions swelling inside him, Dohyeon held out the bouquet he had brought. Igyeol looked bewildered, uncertain how to react, and bowed his head slightly as the flowers filled his arms.

“…Thank you.”

“But why did you—”

“Yes?”

Meeting his innocent gaze, Dohyeon let out a deep sigh. He wanted to ask why not a single gift had been opened. Did he hate them? Did he not want them? Perhaps he had been too greedy — Igyeol was never one to show desire. Even so, he had thought he would open at least one. His expectations had been mistaken.

“H— Hey, Dohyeon-ssi.”

“…Christmas has long passed. I was wondering why they were still there.”

“…Ah, those.”

“Can I ask why you didn’t open them?”

His voice was low. Maybe there had been too many gifts. Or perhaps Igyeol hadn’t wanted them and felt forced to accept them. He had no greed in him — perhaps Dohyeon had gone too far. Still, Dohyeon had believed he would open at least one package. He had been wrong.

Igyeol looked down at the bouquet, gently brushing the soft lavender petals with his fingertips. He didn’t want to say the truth out loud. But if he stayed silent like he used to, Dohyeon would misunderstand again — and they would repeat the same cycle.

“…Every time I saw them, I thought of you.”

“You didn’t like thinking of me?”

“That’s why I didn’t open them. If I unwrapped everything and the space under the tree went empty… I wouldn’t have an excuse to think about you anymore.”

Dohyeon turned immediately, staring, stunned. Igyeol bent his head toward the bouquet as if hiding in it, speaking quietly, his ears flushing red, eyelashes trembling downward.

“I kept wondering how you carried all that in alone…”

His voice trailed into a whisper. The tension in Dohyeon’s shoulders released as a faint laugh escaped him. Instinctively, he moved his right hand to cover his face, winced, then pressed his temple gently with his left. Heaven and hell — that was what this felt like.

“It was hard sneaking in. I kept thinking — what if you caught me.”

“…For someone sneaking around, you left a lot of pheromones behind.”

“Did I.”

“Would it be alright… if I opened the presents a little later?”

It was the recipient’s choice when to open a present, yet Igyeol asked for permission. Dohyeon nodded. He had no right to demand they be opened — even if Igyeol had said he would never open them. But the boy who had looked so anxious now brightened at once.

“Do you like the flowers?”

“…Uh, I didn’t really think about flowers before — but getting them like this, I like them. I think I will like them. I’ve never seen flowers like these. They’re beautiful.”

His voice sparkled as brightly as his eyes. Dohyeon stepped closer, recalling the florist’s explanation and recited softly, one by one:

“Sweet pea, lisianthus, astrantia, snow-drop.”

“…Wow.”

“The florist told me as he wrapped them.”

Igyeol looked up in wonder — and his expression struck Dohyeon as painfully beautiful. The gentle curve of his soft eyes — it had been so long since Dohyeon last saw it. He stared for a long time before slowly lowering his head. Startled, Igyeol pulled back a fraction, then closed his eyes.

Soft, warm lips pressed against his — fleeting, restrained. Dohyeon cupped his cheek with his left hand and kissed him again, teeth gently catching his lower lip, preparing to deepen—

Click— the door opened. Igyeol reflexively pushed him away. Dohyeon stepped back easily, turning to see Kwon Seunggyu emerging with Seo Ihyeon in his arms. If he had seen anything, he didn’t show it — he simply greeted him cheerfully.

“You’re home, Ihyeon’s dad. Hello.”

Holding Ihyeon’s tiny hand and waving it, he glanced at Igyeol’s flushed face and asked if the house was too warm. Covering his lips with the back of his hand, Igyeol nodded stiffly.

“I must have turned the heater up too high, worried about Ihyeon catching another cold. I’ll lower it. Oh — what a pretty bouquet.”

“I— I’ll make Ihyeon’s formula.”

“No, I’ll do it. He’s been fussy from staying in the room too long.”

Hearing that, Dohyeon hesitated, then looked at Igyeol. He asked whether they should take a walk together. At the suggestion of going outside, Igyeol’s face stiffened. What if something happened again? He couldn’t bring himself to say yes.

“It’ll be alright.”

“……”

“Nothing will happen.”

After a moment more of anxious hesitation, Igyeol finally nodded. His gaze drifted to Ihyeon in Seunggyu’s arms — what if going outside made him sick again? What if he got a fever again? Seeing the fear in his eyes, Dohyeon gently redirected his gaze.

“If you’re comfortable with it… how about I carry Ihyeon?”

“…Without the stroller?”

“Yes. I saw a baby carrier last time.”

“You hurt your hand.”

At his worried tone, Dohyeon laughed softly.

“My shoulder is fine.”

“…Are you really okay?”

“I am. As long as you’re okay with it.”

“…Then… let’s do that.”

Being in Dohyeon’s arms felt warmer and safer than any stroller. Without further hesitation, Igyeol nodded. Seunggyu excused himself, busying around preparing the formula. While waiting, Dohyeon went upstairs to change. He brushed past Igyeol, briefly holding his wrist before releasing it — then suddenly paused mid–staircase.

“Could you help me change clothes?”

“…Huh? Oh — yes.”

Placing the bouquet on the table, Igyeol followed him into the bedroom. Dohyeon headed to the dressing room. Without thinking, Igyeol trailed after him — then froze. This wasn’t normal. Couples about to divorce didn’t act like this. Earlier too — and again now. Heat rushed to his face as he remembered their kiss in the living room. Did he hate it? Had he hated it, his body would have recoiled. In truth, he didn’t even know if he still wanted the divorce. Everything was too confusing.

Hovering in the doorway, he steadied himself and entered. Dohyeon had undone only a few buttons, struggling with one hand, and paused to look at him. Tears pricked Igyeol’s throat. He approached and gently moved Dohyeon’s hand away.

He worked through the buttons carefully. He tried not to look at the bare skin revealed, but since all he could see was skin, his gaze inevitably drifted. Breathing felt difficult. When he pulled free the last button, Dohyeon caught his hand. Igyeol startled and stepped back. Dohyeon offered an apologetic smile.

“I can handle the rest. Wait outside.”

“…What?”

“Go on. Wait outside.”

Sensing something in his tone, Igyeol hurried out. Then he stopped halfway through turning, whispering without looking at him.

“…I don’t know.”

“……”

“Will I be able to live well after separating from you…?”

Hearing that quiet, trembling voice, Dohyeon reached him at once. His eyes, which had gone calm, stirred again — turbulent and raw. Igyeol looked ready to cry, overwhelmed.

“You’ll be alright. I’ll make sure of it. But if you don’t want me to go… I won’t leave.”

“…What if, someday, you want to leave? What then?”

“That will never happen.”

“How can you be so sure?”