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Episode 17
In her dream, Yeoreum was at the hospital.
Suha had been unconscious for over a week after the accident.
The sound of rain lashing against the window blended with the steady drip of IV fluid, creating an odd rhythm.
Her world had collapsed, yet outside, life remained serenely unchanged.
When she looked down at him, clinging to the vague hope that he would awaken, Suha was already staring at her silently.
“Oppa! Are you okay?”
Yeoreum shot to her feet, anxiously checking him over.
“Does your head hurt? Are you in pain anywhere? Never mind. Just—thank you for waking up. I’m so grateful, really….”
She pressed her hands together as though in prayer and shut her eyes tightly.
He was awake.
Suha had survived.
Overwhelmed with emotion, she held and stroked his hand again and again. But Suha’s face was unreadable.
It wasn’t the warm gaze she remembered. His skin felt frozen, lifeless.
That strangeness made Yeoreum cling even tighter.
Suha twisted, rejecting her touch. It wasn’t just avoidance—it was cold dismissal.
“Why are you acting like this?” Her voice trembled.
At last, his voice broke the silence.
“Why did you do it?”
Do what?
She was baffled by the abrupt accusation.
Before she could form words, he asked again, his tone icy.
“Why did you kiss him?”
The meaning hit her. He meant Hyeonjae.
Time itself felt tangled.
“I… I—”
Her thoughts knotted, refusing to sort themselves into an explanation. No matter what she said, it would sound like an excuse.
Suha’s condemning eyes tightened around her throat like a noose.
When she opened her eyes, she was back in her own room.
It was a dream.
Letting out a long sigh, Yeoreum lifted an arm to cover her face.
Her head felt heavy.
She had dreamt of Suha waking many times before—at the funeral, before she had Yegyeom, after his birth.
But never like this. Never with that icy face.
And yet, the expression hadn’t felt unfamiliar. Perhaps because of Hyeonjae.
Why did she feel like she owed an explanation to someone who no longer existed in this world?
It was as if she had actually been caught cheating. The sense of guilt was unpleasant, suffocating.
She pulled the blanket over her head and groaned.
That strange dream, coupled with the dread of facing Hyeonjae again, pressed down on her chest.
When she stepped out, the cheerful sound of chopping drifted from the kitchen.
The moment she opened the door, Yegyeom ran into her arms with a toy still in hand.
“Did you sleep well, Yegyeom?”
“Uh-huh! Did you sleep well too, Mommy?”
“Of course. Ah, my sweet boy.”
Yeoreum pinched his soft cheek before stepping into the kitchen.
There, Seongyu—his hair tousled into a bird’s nest like Yegyeom’s—was cutting tofu.
“I could’ve made breakfast.”
“Sure you could. Sit Yegyeom down so he can eat.”
“Okay.”
She settled Yegyeom into the middle chair and peeked into the pot simmering on the stove.
“You made bean sprout soup?”
“You came home after drinking, didn’t you?”
“Oh? Yeah. But I didn’t drink.”
“Why? Wasn’t it your welcome party?”
“Ah, my stomach wasn’t feeling great.”
“Then why’d you come home so late?”
The moment he asked, the memory of last night rushed back. Yeoreum coughed lightly, trying to suppress it.
Even his casual question left her uneasy.
“Don’t just stand there. Sit down.”
Seongyu nudged her with his shoulder before turning back to the tofu sizzling in the pan.
The fragrant sound of frying filled the kitchen.
Soon, a warm bowl of bean sprout soup was set before her, while Yegyeom received his cooled portion in a cartoon dish.
Yeoreum watched her brother bustle about, cooking even though he had work of his own. It touched her deeply.
She had only been able to apply for the contract position at Onjo Foods because of Seongyu. His flexible hours meant he could share childcare with her, filling in when she couldn’t.
But it hadn’t always been this way.
When he discovered—too late—that she was pregnant with Suha’s child, he had erupted in rage.
He had nearly dragged her to the hospital against her will.
‘No!! Oppa!!! Don’t!!!’
‘Go. You’ll see, one day you’ll realize this was the right choice. Do you think Suha would be grateful for this? Stop being foolish!’
‘No matter what you say, I’m having this baby! I can raise it on my own! I don’t need your help—so stay out of it!’
Back then, she had no idea how grueling childcare truly was.
A year later, exhausted and nearly broken, she finally reached out to him.
Seongyu, once awkward even holding a baby, had since learned to manage everything—feeding, bathing, even potty training.
Neighbors often complimented him, mistaking him for a devoted father. He never corrected them, sparing his sister the pitying stares of “a single mother with a story.”
Yeoreum knew this, and silently appreciated his sacrifice.
“What are you staring at? Still half-asleep?”
She looked up at his voice. He set down a mug of honey water beside her soup, the cup clinking lightly.
The tofu, golden from sesame oil, followed.
“You didn’t even drink, so this honey water’s wasted.”
“Thanks, Oppa.”
Her gratitude wasn’t just for the drink—it was for everything. For accepting Yegyeom into their family.
Seongyu paused, glanced at her, then quickly deflected. “Eat already.”
“Mommy! Even if you don’t feel like eating, you still have to!”
“Right? You’re slower than Yegyeom.”
“Uncle! I’m not slow! I eat super fast! Want me to show you?”
“Careful, careful—you’re spilling.”
Yeoreum smiled as she watched Yegyeom racing with his spoon and Seongyu patiently handing him tissues. She picked up her own spoon.
For that moment, it was just the three of them. A life no one—neither Gong Suha nor Gi Hyeonjae—could intrude upon.
After a day’s rest, Yeoreum prepared to head to Onjo Foods.
She timed her departure carefully, not wanting to risk arriving early and running into Hyeonjae alone.
As expected, he and the other secretaries, including Myeongjun, were already there.
The staff, still regretting the failed team dinner, suggested rescheduling. Yeoreum agreed readily.
Myeongjun returned with a tray of juice, handing one to Jiwon along with medicine.
“Secretary Kim, make sure the director takes this too.”
When Jiwon left for the office, Yeoreum asked quietly, “Is the director unwell?”
She recalled his pale face when she had returned to his home the night before.
Though she had promised herself to draw a clear boundary, concern slipped past her resolve.
“He sometimes suffers from severe headaches. He says he’s fine, but today’s schedule is tight, so we thought it best to be prepared.”
“I see… Was he alright last night? He’d drunk quite a bit, so I worried…”
“Seemed fine enough.”
Just then, the door burst open.
It wasn’t Jiwon who emerged—it was Hyeonjae himself.
Once again, his suit fit him like it was made for his body, impeccable and commanding.
