Divorce Contract C77

Chapter 77

She looked at the downcast Igyeol and made her voice firmer. In her eyes, he had done nothing wrong—except hiding how bad things had gotten.

“To me, that pretty-faced man is the one at fault, not you. Stop dumping every bit of blame onto yourself. If only we could see the future ahead of time, we’d avoid half the misery life throws at us—but that’s not how life works. No one can see even one step ahead. All we can do is say, ‘Terrible things happen,’ and keep going. The baby’s father should be the one carrying this weight. You hear me?”

Her words were sharp, almost fierce. Igyeol let out a tiny laugh. Eunsuk squeezed his hand tightly.

“I don’t know if time really heals everything, but it does soften the pain. That much I’ve learned. Even when I thought death was coming for me, I somehow lived through it. I don’t know the full story of what you endured—so I say this carefully. But the truth is, no matter how terrible it feels in the moment… once the days pass, the hurt fades. I thought I wouldn’t survive, that it would end me, but when I looked back later… it didn’t. It wasn’t as world-ending as it felt.”

She shrugged lightly and continued in that same calm voice.

“Look at me. My parents died young. I was alone and terrified. Everything looked dark. But I endured. Over and over. And now here I am, sitting next to you.”

She buttoned his cardigan all the way up to his throat, checking repeatedly if he was cold, if the wind was too sharp. They sat together quietly, looking up at the sky.

After their walk, they returned to the ward, rested a bit, and then went together to see the baby. Only family was allowed into the NICU, but through Seo Dohyeon’s strings-pulled meddling, Eunsuk was allowed to accompany him.
Dohyeon stayed outside while they went in.

“The baby’s awake today. Before this, you only ever saw him asleep.”

They followed the nurse quickly to the incubator. Inside lay the tiny infant, eyes open, barely moving. He was exactly as small as she’d imagined, with a surprising amount of hair. Seeing how loosely the diaper fit, Eunsuk blinked hard to stop herself from crying.

“He’s grown a lot. If he keeps doing this well for the next five weeks, he may be discharged early. You haven’t brought in more expressed milk, have you? If you do, please bring it straight here.”

“…Yes…”

Hearing that the baby might be released so soon made Igyeol’s eyes brighten with joy. It felt like just yesterday the baby was barely clinging to life, and now—now they were talking discharge.

Eunsuk patted his back without looking away from the incubator.

“Breast milk is best, of course. And look at those big eyes—he looks just like you, Igyeol…”

She pressed her knuckles to her eyes as tears threatened.
Yes, parts of the baby resembled Dohyeon—but far more of him was pure Igyeol. And all of that was beautiful.
Then her eyes fell to the blank space where a name should’ve been written. Her face darkened immediately.

Born this long ago… and still no name?
Every single thing about that man irritated her.

“He’s definitely grown. You said he was even smaller the first time?”

“He was tiny. His whole face was smaller than my fist. Even now he’s small.”

“Poor baby. And look—he’s watching you. Lying still like that? Maybe he knows his father’s here!”

Just like Igyeol always did, Eunsuk found herself completely absorbed in staring at the child.
Silence settled. Neither dared breathe too loudly in case they startled him.
Soon, the baby blinked slowly, yawned, and drifted back to sleep.

“He sleeps so easily.”

“Yes. You wouldn’t believe how calm he is. He hardly ever fusses.”

At that, Igyeol’s brows knitted. Another thing to blame himself for? Had he not stroked his stomach enough when pregnant, so the baby didn’t know comfort?
Did the baby not cry… because he’d learned no one would pick him up?

The thought hit like a stone.

But the nurse noticed his expression and quickly added—

“The incubator does that. Many babies here barely cry. Once they go home, they’re just like all other babies—constantly asking to be held.”

“…Then I’m glad.”

Though the worry lines didn’t fully disappear, some weight lifted from his shoulders.

Eunsuk said nothing—only fretted about whether the lightly dressed baby might catch a chill.

“He won’t get cold?”

“No. Temperature is controlled.”

“He’s not wearing any clothes. Doesn’t that bother him?”

“No need to worry.”

To Eunsuk, the tiny human was nothing short of miraculous.
How could something so perfect have once lived inside Igyeol’s body?
She clasped his hand and pointed out the resemblances—what was his, what wasn’t. The big round eyes: his. The nose: his. The soft lips: his. The long limbs: his.
Every feature seemed to belong to Igyeol.
But when she took in the baby as a whole… she could suddenly see Dohyeon too. And it soured her mood instantly.

“Igyeol, he looks just like you.”

“…Really?”

“I swear it. I saw you as a baby—he’s your copy.”

When the visit ended, she confidently predicted the baby would grow tall and handsome just like Igyeol.

But as soon as they stepped out of the NICU, she saw Dohyeon waiting.
Her entire body snapped in the opposite direction.

“All was well?”

“How can you ask that in a ward full of newborns? Good heavens.”

She brushed past him to check on Igyeol. After settling him near the lift, she spun back and called out:

“I want a word.”

“Shall we talk here?”

“No. The lounge. I’ll give Igyeol his lunch first, then I’ll go.”

“As you wish.”

Dohyeon followed at a distance but did not enter the lift.
Inside, Igyeol noticed. His eyes flickered with something like suspicion… or hope.
Why didn’t he come?
Was he waiting for someone to ask him to?
But Igyeol didn’t dare.

Dohyeon brushed back his unstyled hair with a sigh—the perfect, immaculate hair he’d always kept was a mess now.

Once the lift was gone, he climbed the stairwell, mind spinning.
He needed to arrange a new discharge plan. The word “discharge” itself felt impossible—like something that would terrify Igyeol all over again.
And if Eunsuk was planning to stay with them long-term… another problem.
Maybe she wanted to talk about names. Maybe about the baby’s future.

At the final landing, one of his men bowed deeply.

“Your mother has arrived at the main building, sir. She attempted to enter the ward but was refused. She is… displeased. She requests that you come at once. What are your orders?”

“Tell her to wait on the first floor.”

“And how long shall she wait?”

“Tell her only that if she remains quiet, I will come.”

Dismissed, the man left.
Dohyeon went to the lounge, prepared a drink, and rubbed at his temples as the familiar headache crept in.
Eventually, the door opened. He straightened. Eunsuk walked in with the energy of someone ready to throw hands.

“Why does the baby have no name? Has the birth not been registered? Isn’t there a fine if you delay? Even I know that—don’t pretend you didn’t. You knew, didn’t you?”

“I chose a name. I was waiting to discuss it with Igyeol.”

“These things must be handled quickly! Can you not do anything properly?”

He fell silent.
Eunsuk clicked her tongue.

“And Igyeol tells me there was a ‘misunderstanding’ between you. What misunderstanding leaves someone half-dead? Are you even trying to fix it? Or no?”

“…I tried. But it went poorly. I don’t know if it can be resolved.”

“What was it?”

Like Igyeol, he said nothing.
Eunsuk stood with a sharp shake of her head.

“Tonight, I’ll go back to the pension, pack my things, and return. Clearly, I need to stay, just as you asked.”

“I’ll arrange a car—please use it.”

“No. I want nothing from you. What you should do is talk to Igyeol about the baby’s name. What kind of father delays something so basic? And one more thing—”

Her glare hit like a slap.

“Igyeol said you told him he could raise the baby. You never wanted the child, yet now that he’s born, even raising him requires your approval? If that’s the case, listen well—
you are the lowest, most shameless wretch alive.”