TCBW C83

Chapter 83

Ordinarily, Dowoon preferred to work in quiet places like this. Yet he knew Suhoe hated silence. The boy had always needed some sound — the hum of a television, soft music, even muted background chatter — to fill the stillness enough to sleep.

But tonight was different. Perhaps knowing that there were people outside, that nurses were only a half-minute’s dash away, made the silence bearable.

Even the absence of television noise seemed intentional. Suhoe was considerate like that — likely afraid that turning up the volume would disturb others sleeping nearby.

Lost in thought, Dowoon glanced at his watch — a motion that had long become habitual — before slowly walking down the carpeted corridor toward his spouse’s room.

The soft light along the hallway cast long, fluid shadows that swayed gently beneath his steps.

When he finally reached the room, he noticed the door was slightly ajar.

Perhaps someone had forgotten to close it.

He reached out to push it open — then froze. His broad hand hung motionless in the air.

A faint, uneasy scent slipped through the gap, threading around him like invisible smoke. The pheromones were laced with anxiety, heavy enough that he could feel Suhoe’s distress even from outside.

Though it carried the familiar sweetness of peaches, Dowoon felt no comfort in it — only a piercing ache twisting through his left wrist. The pain was sharp enough to drive him to his knees.

He gritted his teeth, clutching his wrist, and half-fell into the chair outside — the one where Haeon or Professor Eun would often sit during visits.

“Haa…”

He drew in a ragged breath. In his mind, he saw Suhoe’s face — smiling bravely, pretending everything was fine, even after all that had happened.

Meanwhile, inside the room, every light was turned on.

As if unwilling to allow even the smallest shadow, Suhoe had lit all the lamps, even the dim nightlight fixed beside his bed. He sat wrapped in a blanket before the muted television, cocooned in fabric thick enough to defy the season.

Though the nights had grown warmer, he still clutched the heavy bedding to his chest and watched a video full of laughing children. His gaze, however, was fixed toward the window.

Earlier that day, he had dared to wish for something — to want something for himself — but such desires always demanded sacrifice.

For him, that price came in the form of self-loathing and sleepless nights.

What are you even struggling with? Sara’s voice echoed inside his head. You already played the role of the government’s pet. You knew he had someone beside him, and you still went to him.

Whenever Dowoon wasn’t there, the torment returned.

Sara’s words clung to him like ghosts, and every morning and night, Professor Eun’s visits and the endless pregnancy tests felt like a tightening noose.

He tried his best to conceal it — to smile, to speak as usual — but it was impossible to truly hide.

Today was one of those unbearable days.

When such nights came, Suhoe always turned on videos of people — especially children. Their laughter filled the room with an echo of life.

And as the images flickered across the screen, he prayed silently.

Please, let me hold on. Just until morning.

He prayed the same way he breathed — endlessly, instinctively — all the way until dawn.

That was what he had been doing when, suddenly, he felt Dowoon’s pheromones.

It was faint — barely a trace that slipped past the walls — but it was there.

He almost thought he’d imagined it. Perhaps pregnant Omegas truly were more sensitive to their partner’s scent. Yet the instant he realized it, a thought struck him — What if Dowoon saw me like this? Trembling, pathetic…

He sprang from the bed, shoved his feet into his slippers, and rushed into the corridor.

And just as he feared — the air outside was thick with Dowoon’s scent.

It wasn’t a delusion. It was vivid and unmistakable, lingering as if the man had only just left.

Even someone like Suhoe, who lacked the refined control to interpret pheromones well, could feel the pain saturating that trace — anguish and suffering so raw it stung his senses.

What… what could hurt him this much?

Fear seized his chest. If something had happened to Dowoon—

He ran.

Without thinking, without restraint, he bolted down the hall and slammed open the door at the end of the ward.

Startled nurses turned toward him, eyes wide.

“Oh! Is something wrong?”

“Um—has Mr. Dowoon been here just now?”

He replied quickly, but his body was already angled toward the elevators.

His gaze flicked to the indicator panel — the numbers were descending. Without hesitation, he dashed for the emergency stairwell.

“Wait, sir! Please stop!”

Their voices echoed after him, but he didn’t slow.

By then, Dowoon had composed himself enough to get into the car parked in the basement. He intended to return home to Balhwa-dong.

“When you came out through the connecting corridor, sir, you didn’t look well,” Haeon said carefully from the front seat. “But you seem a bit steadier now. Are you feeling better?”

“…Stop talking. Just drive.”

He had long known his condition was a curse — a mysterious affliction that came and went — but lately, the attacks had grown worse.

“Sir,” Haeon began again, hesitant yet earnest, “I understand how much Professor Eun cares. And I know you both only want the best for Madam, but… I’m really worried. He’s so fragile right now, and you—your condition seems to be deteriorating. It’s frightening, sir. Did you just come from seeing him?”

“…Keep your mouth shut.”

The words fell like steel.

Haeon flinched, but he didn’t argue.

How could he? Watching his superior quietly destroy himself was agony, yet there was nothing he could do.

The heavy silence filled the car again.

The sedan glided out of the parking structure, sleek and soundless beneath the dim lights.

They were just about to pass through the gate when—

“Wait, please!”

A voice called out, breathless.

The elevator doors to the first-floor lobby opened just as Suhoe stumbled to a stop, panting.

He clutched his chest, trying to steady the violent pounding of his heart.

He’d run all the way down, praying he wasn’t too late — that Dowoon would still be there, that he could see him, touch him, even for a moment.

His hands trembled as he pressed the open button repeatedly.

The light above flickered, and the doors slid apart.

“…Ha…”

Relief and despair hit him all at once. His arm, still hovering over the panel, fell limply to his side.

“He’s… he’s not here.”

A metallic taste filled his throat. His lips were cracked and dry.

The elevator was empty.

Which meant—

Dowoon had already left the hospital.

Meanwhile, at the exit, Dowoon’s car was forced to a stop. A man in a white shirt, navy vest, and diagonally striped blue tie stood before them, a name badge gleaming on his chest.

He ran toward the driver’s window, breathless, and gestured for it to be lowered.

The driver complied, rolling it down.

“Good evening, sir. There’s been an accident near the main gate,” the man said politely. “If you follow our staff’s guidance, you can exit through the rear hospital road.”

The noise outside confirmed his words — a distant commotion, voices calling over one another.

It didn’t seem serious, but the light rain had turned the place chaotic.

The driver looked back at Dowoon, awaiting instruction.

The CEO said nothing, his gaze fixed on the window, expression unreadable.

Haeon, sitting in the front, nodded once at the driver — a silent signal to follow the guard’s directions.

Raindrops began to patter against the windshield, thin and cold.

Even at this late hour, security staff hurried back and forth to manage the small accident.

Through the murmur of rain and voices, Dowoon tilted his head upward.

The hospital loomed above, its windows glimmering faintly in the dark. Only a few were lit — perhaps one of them was Suhoe’s.

The thought sent a dull ache across his brow.

That anxious, trembling Omega waiting in the dim light — his wife, his undoing.

Dowoon closed his eyes and pressed two fingers to his temple, massaging away the pressure that pulsed behind his eyes like a storm about to break.