Divorce Contract C89

Chapter 89

 

Go Igyeol lifted a trembling arm and covered his ears.
But the voices didn’t stop.

The jeers, the derision, the accusations—they echoed like someone was screaming directly into his skull.
Look at how pathetic you are.
Who would ever care for someone like you?
Why do you even live like this?

The cruelty dug until the tears overflowed.

“I… I want to leave now. Please. Let me go.”

His quiet plea, barely audible as he tugged at the hem of a coat, snapped Seo Dohyeon into action.
Without hesitation, Dohyeon took off his jacket and wrapped it around Igyeol’s shaking shoulders. Then he leveled a cold, razor-edged stare at Go Daesik.

“‘Driven from the door,’ you say? Interesting. Considering no one was at that house—and you never once showed up at the hospital—who exactly drove you out?”

“Th-That… what?”

“And clearly, you have some intention in all this. So why not come to me directly? Stirring trouble here? You’d have gotten more attention doing it in my company lobby.”

With one arm steadying Igyeol, Dohyeon turned and walked out.
Behind them, Daesik shouted that they would “meet again soon.”

Kang Mijin, irritated with Daesik’s sudden hesitation, muttered curses and hurried after them—carrying the seaweed soup she’d supposedly risen at dawn to make, plus side dishes she claimed were lovingly prepared.

She caught up just as Igyeol stepped outside the café.

“Child!”

She reached to grab him—missed—and instead yanked the jacket right off his shoulders.
Tears still trailing down his face, Igyeol turned to her, confused, exhausted.

Though she had never once truly cared for him—not as a foster mother, not as anything—even she seemed taken aback by the sight of him crying.

“Here. Take this and eat. I woke up early to make it for you.”

“……”

“You… ah, forget it. Just—can’t you live properly? Why have you wasted your life like this?”

Even her pity ended in blame.
Staring through blurred tears, Igyeol whispered the thought that had been gnawing at him:

“…Yes… why did I?”

Why had he lived like this? Why was he still drowning in the same misery?

Mijin shoved the soup toward him, but before he could take it, Dohyeon smoothly took the bag from her hands. Supporting Igyeol, he led him into the waiting car.

Once inside, the car slid away from the curb. The city lights blurred by.
Igyeol sat in silence, tears streaming as though he’d forgotten how to stop.

“If my parents… had lived… would everything have been different?”

“……”

“If they had… maybe I would never have met you, Seo Dohyeon…?”

The pain on his face—raw, flooded with grief—cut deeper than any accusation.
Dohyeon looked at him for a long moment, then exhaled slowly.

“We would have met anyway. Whether we married… that, I don’t know.”

He pulled out a handkerchief, but instead of handing it over, he leaned in and gently wiped the tears from Igyeol’s lashes himself.

“At the very least… you wouldn’t have been toyed with by people unworthy of calling themselves family.”

“……”

“Your heart wouldn’t have been torn apart like this.”

The tears didn’t stop—each blink brought more, as if the dam had finally ruptured.
Dohyeon didn’t hate seeing him cry anymore. He only hated every cause that had made those tears necessary.

“University, romance, graduation, work—you would have lived like anyone else. Ordinary, peaceful.”

“…But then,” Igyeol murmured, rubbing his swollen eyes, “I would never have met Hyeon.”

He sniffled weakly.

“It’s strange… Imagination should be limitless, but I can’t imagine a life without him. It feels like… thinking of that is the same as regretting his birth.”

“No one would ever think that.”

“I’m afraid of it all the same. Afraid that I might regret him. I can’t. I mustn’t.”

He raised his blotchy, trembling face.

“All I do is endure. Hold on, hold on, hold on… and every time I think things can’t get worse—they do. As if they’re waiting for me to breathe before hitting me again.”

He broke entirely then—sobbing, shaking, unraveling.

“I don’t know what to do. If my father tries again to take the child, threatens money—If even you, Seo Dohyeon—then it’ll all be my fault again. Everything always becomes my fault.”

His voice cracked under the weight.

Gently, Dohyeon took his wrists, pulling his hands away from his drenched face.

“It’s not your fault. You know that.”

“……”

“You know all of this… every part of it… is on me.”

Still, Igyeol couldn’t accept it. His mind, his body—everything was crushed beneath the weight of living.
The newborn, tiny and fragile; Eunsuk, whose comfort he relied on yet feared losing; Im Yeonhee, appearing whenever she wished; Daesik, dipping his hands into his life as if it were a purse.

He had endured it all.
But today, something inside him cracked beyond repair.

“…I want to forget everything. I wish none of it existed. That it was all a nightmare I could shake off—and go back to some normal morning.”

He hated Seo Dohyeon.
Yet the only place he could collapse was his arms.

“I want to start over. But… I can’t. I can’t.”

At last, the sobbing stole the strength from him.
He sagged into Dohyeon’s chest, drained.

“All of this… is my sin,” Dohyeon whispered.

When Igyeol lifted his reddened eyes, the apology followed.

“…I’m sorry.”

“…Ah.”

At that, Igyeol’s face crumpled completely.
He wished, desperately, that all of this had been just a bad dream.

Carrying him inside—limp from exhaustion—Dohyeon startled Shin Eunsuk. She rushed forward at once.

“What happened?! Heaven help us—what happened to this child?”

They laid him on the bed. His face burned red, eyes puffy and raw. Even half-conscious, he still sobbed from time to time.

After tucking him in, Dohyeon stood.

“What on earth—?!”

“A thin man with sharp features will arrive soon. Let him in.”

“What happened? Tell me!”

“As you saw—his family found him. I don’t think he wanted you to know. If you want the truth… ask him when he wakes.”

With that, Dohyeon stepped out—leaving immediately, unable to stay another second.

Eunsuk turned back to Igyeol. His face was streaked with tears, flushed, trembling. She wiped his face carefully, his hands, his forehead. She tended him until the doorbell rang.

On the monitor, just as Dohyeon had said, stood a severe-faced, thin man—scowling, impatient.

She unlocked the door.
He entered without hesitation.

“Good evening?”

He barely looked at her.

“Kwon Juil. Call me Doctor Kwon.”

“Oh, yes, but—”

“I’m here to see Go Igyeol. Excuse me.”

He bowed slightly, then walked straight to the bedroom.
Seeing Igyeol collapsed yet again, he clicked his tongue.

Whatever Seo Dohyeon had done, whatever nightmare had played out—it had left the boy shattered every single time.