NLFSD Chapter 85

Chapter 85

The nurse on the line stiffened when, instead of anger or abuse, sudden laughter spilled from Jiwoon’s lips. She had expected fury — yet he started giggling out of nowhere.

“Hhh…hahaha… I’ll hang up now.”

—Mr. Lee? Mr. Lee?!

Jiwoon laughed like a madman, a few tears squeezing from his eyes. His life was so cursed that laughter was the only thing left. A marriage born out of a clerical error, and now a divorce almost born out of a misdiagnosis…

“Aaah!”

He tugged at his hair, groaning, until nurses near the entrance rushed over in alarm.

“Patient! Are you all right?”

“Should we administer a sedative?”

“Looks like acute shock. Let’s stabilize him quickly.”

Whisked back inside, Jiwoon was admitted. The doctor judged his state as shock in a pregnant patient and ordered him to rest on a hospital bed, connected to IV fluids.

The climate‑controlled, dimly lit infusion room bed was warm and cozy. There Jiwoon alternated between chuckling to himself and sobbing uncontrollably.

Now what do I do? Can I even go back to work? Am I already considered fired?

And Taecheon… He must’ve listened to the recording on the Sookryeo‑Doongyi doll by now. In the middle of the living room, pretty as you please — I left him a breakup speech: that marriage was a burden, that I didn’t love him. By now, surely, all affection he felt for me has shattered.

The thought made his vision blur, strength drain.

Hah. Taecheon, I only said goodbye because I thought I was terminal. I left my job to spend my last days quietly. But it turns out I’m not sick — I’m actually pregnant! Pregnant!

This wasn’t something he could just walk back from.

“Uuugh!”

Jiwoon cried out, making a nurse pull the curtain open.

“Are you in pain?”

“N‑no, just a sting from the IV site.”

“The drip is slow… I’ll reduce the flow rate more.”

Adjustments made, the nurse left. Jiwoon sank small and silent in bed.

When the IV finished, he collected prescriptions and shuffled back onto the street. His thoughts swirled around one thing: How do I fix this? How can I erase the embarrassment, return smoothly to society and the home I fled?

Normally, Jiwoon wasn’t one to run from problems. Having survived alone, he was more the type to face hardships head‑on. But this time…

He had resigned in dramatic fashion, stormed out of his marriage, disappeared. He couldn’t possibly stroll back in saying, Correction — I take it all back, without accounting for the weight of what he’d done.

Calm. Sort by priority. Family, or job first? Probably check on Taecheon’s state before all else. Not to call and say “Honey! I’m back!” Instead, scout the house from nearby first.

“Ugh…” He rubbed his forehead, sighing.

“Getting on?”

An older man’s voice snapped him from thought. He looked up: a bus stop. A bus bound for home sat idling.

“Ah— y‑yes! Wait, I’ll ride!”

Scrambling aboard, he clutched a strap. Ten stops, thirty minutes, he’d be there. Traffic was light midday; the bus sped too quickly.

I wish it would slow… I wish it would jam. His stomach churned with dread.

Passengers stared when he sighed, groaned, even thunked his forehead against the grab pole. But Jiwoon was too consumed by impending humiliation to care. Every meter closer home worsened it.

Yet where else could he go? He had no other refuge. Motel hiding couldn’t last forever.

“Sir, aren’t you getting off?”

Startled, he rushed off the bus. From stop to house meant climbing one small hill. He trudged like a test‑taker bringing home a failing report card. The nearer he came, the slower he went. Still, steps carried him inevitably to the gate.

He peered cautiously, hugging the wall, craning his head toward the garage. No car. So maybe Taecheon wasn’t home… but the uncertainty made his heart quake.

If I run into him, what do I say? He must be furious…

“My God.”

“Jiwoon!”

A female voice called behind him. He spun.

There, waving, was a stylish middle‑aged woman — glossy coat, rich waves in her hair — elegance in motion.

Madam Choi Yeong‑hee, Seo Taecheon’s mother.

“O‑Oh! Mother. Hello.”

“So here you are. What’s happened? Do you know Taecheon’s been looking for you?”

“T‑that’s…”

Head hung low, guilt pouring off him, Jiwoon shrank. Her brows pressed.

That morning she’d called her son to check in — only to hear shocking news:

“Jiwoon is gone. My Omega is gone.”

The boy who had once shared shaved mango ice with her, too charming to dislike, had seemingly vanished. Hearing her son’s frantic, desperate voice saying Jiwoon must be found at all costs had left her stunned.

Wait — Jiwoon, run away? Why?

Unable to grasp it, she had reserved comment, ended the call, but unease drove her to check personally. And now — here he was, skulking outside.

“What in heaven’s name is going on. Have you contacted him?”

“N‑no…”

“Then I must.”

She pulled out her phone, but Jiwoon caught her wrist.

“Wait — please, don’t. Could you hide me? Just a few days.”

“What? Why, child?”

“I… I can’t explain now. Just hide me a while. Please, don’t tell him.”

She folded her arms, pondering. How familiar — just like decades ago when she, furious and hurt, had fled home and holed up at a friend’s place during a marital crisis.

“…So, there is some kind of conflict, then.”

“Yes…”

Experience told her: prying questions do little; what someone longs for is a steady, quiet refuge. And seeing her son’s spouse now cling to her stirred faint pride. So he seeks me out. I can be that refuge.

“You truly don’t want me to tell him?”

“Yes. Please.”

“…Alright. Come then.”

Jiwoon nearly fell to his knees with gratitude.

“Thank you — thank you so much!”

“Quick, the car. You’ll freeze.”

She gestured; he slid into the passenger seat. Off they went.

They did not know — five minutes later Seo Taecheon would arrive at that very house. Had Madam Choi not intercepted him, Jiwoon would have been caught red‑handed.

Such is timing: cruel. Thus Jiwoon slipped perfectly through his grasp, fleeing the house completely.

Almost prophetically, it mimicked Jiwoon’s recurring dream — clutching a child, fleeing Taecheon’s outstretched hands.

He scratched his cheek, remembering. That dream hurt so much… But only half came true. Still — what else can I do, darling. Right now… I need a hole to crawl into.