BYL 38

For Dain, that kiss — surprisingly — had been her very first.

Even when she had been dating In-hyuk, they had never shared a kiss. Dain, no matter how much she trusted someone, always kept a certain distance. Her guarded nature rarely softened.

At most, they had held hands, hugged from behind… a few small touches here and there. Sometimes In-hyuk had kissed her on the cheek, but Dain had almost never initiated it herself.

Most people would think it strange — a whole year of dating and not even a kiss? But for Dain, physical intimacy was something she approached with great caution. And so, when it came to the idea of a first kiss, she felt fear more than excitement.

Ever since the sudden kiss yesterday, her lips tingled for no reason. As her fingers brushed over her lower lip, the memory returned — vivid and electric. Just recalling it made her face burn hot.

Haa… ngh…

Tae-kyung’s lips had been dry and hot, yet his breath, washing over her, soon moistened them. The closer he came, the deeper his scent sank into her lungs.

The movement of his tongue slipping through the narrow gap, the deliberate angle that deepened the kiss, the strength of his arms that held her so tightly she couldn’t move… above all, she couldn’t forget the solid warmth of his embrace.

After that kiss, Dain realized she had begun to be conscious of Tae-kyung in a way she hadn’t before. But as soon as she started to notice him, the silly rumors that had been floating around the office also started to bother her.

What if Tae-kyung gets hurt because of me?

And what if, just like when she had broken up with In-hyuk… Tae-kyung’s parents rejected her, too?

“Auntie! I want ice cream!”

As soon as they parked and got out of the car, Yeoreum shouted loudly. Her voice snapped Dain back to reality, cutting off her heated memories. The tips of her ears flushed red.

“Now? You should eat dinner first. It’s too late for ice cream…”

“Can’t I have ice cream before dinner?”

“Why?”

“Narae said she’s having ice cream cake with her mom today. I can’t stop thinking about it now.”

Yeoreum pouted, lips sticking out adorably as she shook her head, claiming she couldn’t get ice cream out of her mind. The sight was both cute and a little heartbreaking.

Dain always tried to give Yeoreum what she wanted — she wanted to raise her with no sense of lack — but she had been strict about snacks for the sake of her health. She believed that was the right kind of parenting.

If I were her real mom… would I still say no?

The thought slipped in unbidden. Maybe she was being so strict because she wasn’t Yeoreum’s real mother — only her aunt. A real mother, she thought, might not have been able to resist that pleading face and would’ve happily bought the ice cream.

“Alright, just for today, we’ll get some.”

“Really?!”

The moment Dain relented, Yeoreum’s face lit up like a sunbeam.

“But you have to eat dinner properly too.”

“Yes! Yes!”

Yeoreum bounced in place, so excited she even used polite speech. Dain smiled and smoothed her hair before taking her hand again.

As they walked toward the convenience store, Yeoreum eagerly told stories about her day at kindergarten.

Apparently, Han-ul had gotten into another argument with the kid who always teased Yeoreum — and this time, he’d “won.” Dain laughed, picturing Han-ul’s triumphant expression, then quickly composed her face.

“Still, you shouldn’t fight with friends. Next time, tell the teacher, okay?”

“But Auntie, he doesn’t even listen to the teacher.”

“If the teacher finds out later, she might think Han-ul was the one at fault.”

“Oh… that’s true! Next time I’ll stop him!”

Yeoreum pumped her fist bravely. Dain chuckled, handing her the ice cream bar after paying, and they stepped outside.

Even on the walk back to the apartment, Yeoreum kept chatting non-stop. The melting ice cream began to drip between her small fingers.

“Wait, Yeoreum. Let’s wipe your hands.”

At the building entrance, Dain stopped and rummaged through her pouch for tissues. The moment she found one—

“Dain.”

A low voice called her name from behind.

She didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. Seo In-hyuk.

“Auntie?”

Dain froze on the spot like a statue, shock pinning her where she stood. Yeoreum, puzzled by her aunt’s stillness, tilted her head and glanced back — and then she saw him.

Uncle In-hyuk!

At the party, she had thought she must’ve imagined that face — but now, seeing him again, all the color drained from Yeoreum’s cheeks. Her lips parted soundlessly as her breathing faltered.

“Yeoreum, let’s go inside.”

“…”

“Yeoreum?”

As Dain tugged her hand to move, the half-melted ice cream slipped from Yeoreum’s grasp and splattered onto the ground. A second later, Yeoreum herself staggered and collapsed.

“Yeoreum!”

Dain grabbed her shoulders — the child’s face was unnaturally pale. Panic surged through Dain as she scooped her into her arms.

“Dain!”

“Get out of the way!”

“I’ll help — take my car.”

“I don’t need your help, move!”

In-hyuk stepped in front of her, refusing to budge. Behind him, a sedan sat parked — his car. Dain’s voice trembled with anger and fear.

“If you hadn’t shown up, Yeoreum wouldn’t have been frightened like this!”

“You think you can drive like this right now?”

Even now, his calmness was infuriatingly cold.

“I’m not asking you to do anything!”

“Move…”

“I’ll be faster than an ambulance. Let’s go.”

Dain glared at him, breath coming hard and fast.

“The child’s life matters more than your pride, doesn’t it?”

It wasn’t pride — but he was right about what mattered most. Yeoreum. Dain couldn’t fight him off any longer and got into the passenger seat.

Yeoreum’s limp, gasping body was far more urgent than her resentment.

As soon as they reached the hospital, Yeoreum was rushed inside. Even if it was just hyperventilation, they had to observe her carefully, so Dain was told to wait.

While Yeoreum was resting in a bed after her examination, Dain, after much hesitation, called Tae-kyung.

No matter how many times she tried, the call wouldn’t connect. It was late — he was probably busy with personal matters and couldn’t answer.

Then her phone buzzed. A message.

<Is something wrong?>

So he couldn’t talk, but could text. His message was neat and direct, with not a single typo.

Dain hesitated, then carefully replied — explaining that Yeoreum had suffered a brief hyperventilation episode, that they were at the hospital now, and that she had only called out of surprise, so he needn’t worry.

<Send me the location. I’ll come get you.>

The simple words brought her a quiet wave of relief. Just seeing his gentle, steady concern loosened the tension weighing on her shoulders.

She texted him the hospital address, and was just about to type another message — asking when he might be able to call — when a voice interrupted.

“Dain, can we talk?”

In-hyuk had entered the waiting room. Dain put her phone away and turned her head sharply, making it clear she didn’t want to speak. But he ignored the hint and sat across from her.

Normally, this place would be full of people — but today, strangely, the lounge was empty. In the thick silence, In-hyuk handed her a paper cup of vending-machine coffee.

“Are you okay?”

Dain didn’t take it. Instead, she shot him a cold glare.

“Why did you just show up like that? Yeoreum was terrified.”

“I didn’t think she’d still react that way.”

“You didn’t think?”

Her hands trembled on her lap.

“After what you did to us, how could you think she’d be okay seeing you again?”

“I figured it was something she’d have to face eventually.” He paused. “And what you wrote in your diary — it was true, wasn’t it? That you felt trapped, tied down to a child who wasn’t even yours. You said you might end up bound for life. Is that really the future you want?”

His words, as sharp as ever, cut deep. Dain said nothing, and his voice dropped lower.

“You think Go Tae-kyung is different?”

“Why are you bringing him up now…”

“He’s the same. Not that different from me.”

He wasn’t listening. Talking to him felt like talking to a wall. Dain’s face darkened, and In-hyuk’s jaw tightened.

“In the end, he’ll think just like I did. He’ll tell you to leave the child and come to him.”

“You don’t know anything — that’s why you can say things like that. You don’t even know why I had to say no back then—!”

“What is it I don’t know?”

For the first time, his voice trembled. The ever-calm In-hyuk — showing emotion. Dain looked up, startled.

“You always shut me out, so I never even got the chance to find out what I didn’t know.”

At last, their eyes met. In-hyuk’s gaze was desperate, his voice trembling in a way that felt foreign to her.

“Please, tell me. Dain.”

He forced the words out, lips shaking. It was the question he’d suspected for so long but never had the courage to ask.

“Did you… ever meet my mother?”

“…”

“Before the business trip was decided — did you meet her?”

The heavy question pierced her ears.

And in that instant, memories of a distant yet painfully close past began to unfold in her mind — like a film reel spinning in reverse.

A day in spring — warm to everyone else, but for her, unbearably cold.