CHAPTER 32…………………………………

“When are you planning to get divorced?”

“So that I can marry Geon-woo.”

Those words kept replaying in her head like a broken record. The more they repeated, the tighter her chest felt. Even breathing became a little difficult.

If she asked Geon-woo, what would he say?

What if he said they should get divorced…

At that thought, her fingertips turned cold. If he really said those words, would she even have the right to hold on to him?

She pretended otherwise, yet here she was, leaning on his warmth. Did she even have the standing to say anything to him?

Her thoughts grew more tangled, and her breathing more strained.

Not long after, the car arrived in front of their house. Geon-woo parked and turned off the engine. Without a word, he opened the driver’s door and stepped out.

Hana slowly opened her door and followed.

The night air was colder than she expected. The hem of her dress brushed against her thighs, trapping the chill.

When they opened the front door, the familiar indoor air rushed out to greet them. The lights flicked on, brightening the living room.

Geon-woo silently removed his jacket and draped it over the sofa. He loosened his tie and let out a breath.

Hana carefully set her clutch on the side table and stood there.

In the heavy silence settling between them, she cautiously spoke.

“Um…”

At that single word, his steps toward the bedroom stopped mid-stride.

He turned his head to look at her. Hana couldn’t meet his eyes.

After taking a breath, she finally forced the words out.

“Are you… really going to marry Son Serin?”

The moment the words left her mouth, the air seemed to freeze.

Geon-woo’s gaze settled on her. Surprise flickered in his eyes. Then his brows drew together slightly, as if he couldn’t understand what she was saying.

“What?”

Hana bit her lip hard. She tried to swallow the words rising to her throat, but she couldn’t stop now.

“Tell me. Are you… really going to marry Son Serin?”

He said nothing, just stared at her. His eyes were filled with confusion—what on earth are you talking about?

Then slowly, the corner of his mouth twisted. It wasn’t quite a smirk, nor a smile—more like a hollow expression.

“Is our country practicing polygamy now?”

“……”

“I’m already married. What do you mean, get married again?”

His voice was firm, oddly definitive. At those words, a bit of the tension drained from Hana’s shoulders.

The tight knot that had been twisting inside her chest loosened—just a little.

Geon-woo was still looking at her.

“Why? Did someone say something again?”

Hana shook her head. She didn’t want to answer. She didn’t want to repeat Serin’s words to him.

What would be the point?

It would only make things more complicated.

“No… it’s nothing.”

She avoided his gaze and shook her head.

“If it’s nothing, then fine.”

With that, she walked past him.

For a moment, Geon-woo’s hand moved slightly—as if to grab her.

But it hovered in the air briefly before slowly dropping.

Hana didn’t look back.

She quietly made her way to the bathroom. The sound of the door closing echoed softly, leaving only Geon-woo’s breathing in the living room.

Hana’s phone vibrated.

[Be at the department store lobby by 1 p.m. today.]

[Don’t tell Geon-woo.]

It was Misook.

As always, the message was curt and commanding. Not a single word in those short sentences considered Hana’s situation or feelings.

Hana stared blankly at the screen, then slowly closed her eyes and let out a long sigh.

Even the sound of her breath felt heavy.

It was Saturday afternoon—a day she’d hoped to take a nap for once. The event last night had run late, and she had planned to rest today. But Misook’s calls always came like this, without warning.

No notice. No explanation. No consideration.

There was never a choice in her requests.

Hana pressed her lips together. She wasn’t so much angry or resentful as simply tired.

Absentmindedly, she looked around the house.

Geon-woo had already left early that morning. Even though it was the weekend, he said something urgent had come up at work. He’d skipped breakfast and hurried out.

The traces of him were still on the dining table.

A half-finished mug of coffee. A piece of toast gone stiff on a plate. Only those remnants proved he had been there that morning.

Well, maybe it’s better this way.

Since Geon-woo wasn’t home, she didn’t have to be self-conscious. Besides, Misook had specifically told her not to tell him, so there was no need to get caught in the middle.

Hana slowly got up and walked to the closet.

When she opened it, the scent of fabric softener drifted out from the neatly hung clothes.

She chose the most understated outfit.

A beige knit sweater. Black slacks.

She carefully avoided flashy colors or patterns—anything Misook disliked. Instead of strong perfume, she applied just a faintly scented hand cream.

Standing in front of the mirror, she tied her hair neatly. A tired face stared back at her. The faint shadow beneath her eyes seemed to reflect her current state.

As she picked up her bag and headed for the door, Hana glanced around the living room one last time.

It was too quiet.

Without him, the house felt much larger—and much lonelier.

She gripped the doorknob for a moment, then exhaled lightly and stepped outside.

Soon, she was driving toward the department store.

By the time she arrived at the lobby, the clock read 12:50 p.m.

She had come early on purpose. She didn’t want to be scolded for being late.

The lobby felt relaxed.

Soft sunlight streamed in through the wide windows, scattering across the marble floor along with the sounds of footsteps and laughter.

People dressed casually held coffee cups and chatted, while soft classical music played in the background.

Hana quietly sat on one side of a sofa.

She took out her phone to check the time, then put it away again.

All the surrounding sounds felt distant—the laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses.

Then—

A familiar voice rang out.

“Mother, isn’t this brand so pretty? I saw it in Paris last time and thought of you.”

Hana lifted her head. The voice belonged to Serin.

“Serin, how are you so thoughtful? It’s absolutely beautiful.”

This time it was Misook’s voice, tinged with laughter. The warmth in it felt unfamiliar to Hana.

Misook, whose tone was always stiff and dry, now sounded astonishingly gentle.

Slowly, Hana turned.

At that moment, she saw the two of them walking in from the far end of the lobby.

Misook was smiling brightly, her arm linked tightly with Serin’s.

Serin wore an ivory trench coat. In her hand was a shopping bag with a prominent luxury brand logo.

Her softly waved hair fell gracefully to her shoulders. She looked perfectly polished and elegant from every angle.

Beside her, Misook leaned her face lightly against Serin’s arm, smiling as though she were with a daughter she cherished more than anything.

An easy intimacy flowed naturally between them.

Their tone, their steps, their expressions—everything about them looked so familiar and comfortable, as though built over many years.

Like a real mother and daughter.

Hana slowly rose from her seat.

Only then did Misook seem to notice her presence and turn her head.