Chapter 1
Terminal Diagnosis
“You have stage-four endometrial cancer.”
At the doctor’s calm words, Yeoul froze on the spot.
“It’s already spread beyond your uterus to the pelvic bones. If you look here…”
He pointed to a section on the monitor and began to explain, but his voice faded, muffled and distant—like she’d sunk underwater.
“It’s already beyond treatment. Chemotherapy would have no effect.”
When the doctor finished, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and looked at her.
That small gesture seemed to move in slow motion to Yeoul’s eyes.
A wave of unease swept through her. Her hands, clasped tightly in her lap, fidgeted restlessly.
“You have… at most, a month.”
As Yeoul stepped out of the consultation room, her body faltered and collapsed to the side.
“Are you all right?”
A nurse gasped and rushed forward to catch her.
“Here, please sit down.”
She guided Yeoul to a nearby chair.
“Take a short rest, then pay and pick up your prescription.”
The moment the nurse mentioned prescription, Yeoul’s mind started to clear a little.
Ah, right.
I was given medication.
What was it again…?
‘I’ll prescribe you some painkillers. Take them if the pain gets bad.’
There was something he said before the word painkillers.
But right after hearing the words terminal diagnosis, her mind had gone blank. She hadn’t caught it.
“What does it matter… I’m going to die anyway.”
Yeah. What’s the point of knowing now?
A dying person’s fate doesn’t change.
“Ha… Kang Yeoul, you idiot.”
She laughed bitterly, cursing herself.
How could she be so blind?
Even as her body screamed in pain, she never once imagined it was a real illness.
She felt stupid. Pathetic.
“How could you… how could you…”
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“No matter how much you hated me…”
You didn’t have to kill me.
What did I do that was so unforgivable?
Had they really spent all that time and money… slowly killing me?
“You could’ve told me. If you had just said something…”
I would’ve left on my own.
I would’ve let go of the son you adored so much.
‘Excuse me, you’re really beautiful. Could I get your number?’
It was April, just after she’d settled into university life.
That was when Kim Seung-tae—her future husband—approached her.
Too timid to refuse, she stammered and awkwardly gave him her number.
Too soft-hearted to ignore him, she answered his persistent calls and, a month later, became his girlfriend.
‘Will you marry me?’
At twenty-three, on the day she achieved the dream she’d worked hardest for, Seung-tae proposed.
Unable to say no, she accepted.
At twenty-four, freshly graduated, she became his wife.
‘Yeoul, you’re worried about not getting pregnant, aren’t you? How about trying artificial insemination?’
Three months into their marriage, her mother-in-law, Park Song-hwa, began to pressure her.
Her husband was the only son among five generations—he had to carry on the family line.
Unable to refuse, Yeoul underwent artificial insemination.
‘There’s a herbal medicine that helps with fertility.’
Dragged along by Song-hwa, she visited a traditional clinic.
Every morning and night, she forced herself to swallow bitter, nauseating herbs that made her stomach turn.
Despite all the effort, every attempt at insemination failed.
‘We can’t wait any longer. It’s time to try IVF.’
On their first wedding anniversary, instead of a celebration, Yeoul received an IVF appointment slip.
All the while, she continued drinking the so-called fertility herbs.
‘What exactly are you good at? You can’t even give birth. You don’t support your husband. You can’t even manage a household. You’re nothing but a useless parasite.’
When her efforts failed, Song-hwa’s cruel words followed—
each one cutting into her heart like a knife.
‘Oh, what sin did I commit to bring home a daughter-in-law who can’t even bear a child? I can’t face our ancestors, I just can’t!’
Yeoul endured the daily scolding in silence.
She saw herself as a sinner—a worthless daughter-in-law who couldn’t give the family an heir.
So she kept her head down, obeyed every order, never raised her voice.
‘A clean home brings healthy babies. Wash the bedding every day, by hand, not with the washer. Electricity harms a woman’s body—so no vacuuming. Sweep and mop yourself.’
From five in the morning until midnight, she worked nonstop, never once straightening her back.
Still, she endured. Because she was guilty—
guilty of not bearing a child.
‘The doctors say there’s nothing wrong, so why aren’t you pregnant? Are you sure you’re taking the herbs I gave you? You’re not throwing them away behind my back, are you?’
Because Song-hwa suspected her, Yeoul had to take the herbs in front of her every day.
‘This is what happens when you marry beneath you. My son insisted on marrying you, and now look—our family line ends with you.’
Six years into marriage, the insults, contempt, and humiliation had never stopped.
“And instead of a baby… I ended up with cancer.”
All her efforts to conceive had been meaningless—because behind her back, they’d been killing her.
With those so-called fertility herbs.
Now she remembered—her health had started to deteriorate right after she began taking them.
She thought it was a side effect from the IVF procedure…
“Wait… no way…”
A memory struck her like lightning.
‘You may experience some discomfort after IVF.’
After the procedure, she had felt pain—intense, abnormal pain—and had asked her doctor about it.
It hurt so much. She’d asked if something was wrong with her body.
The doctor said there was nothing to worry about.
And she’d believed him. Foolishly.
‘So… even the hospital was bribed.’
Now she knew.
Song-hwa hadn’t only bribed the herbalist—she’d bought off the gynecologist too.
And there were probably others.
“Ha… what does it matter now? I’m dying anyway.”
A month left to live.
All she could do was take painkillers to dull the agony.
Even if Song-hwa’s evil deeds were exposed, it wouldn’t change anything.
She couldn’t take revenge. She couldn’t go back to before the pain.
All she could do was die.
—…Seo Group’s third son, Ha Geon-woo, and executive director of Seo Electronics, has returned to Korea this morning after six years in the U.S.…
The voice from the hospital corridor TV broke through her daze.
She must’ve caught it because she heard the words “Seo Group” and “Ha Geon-woo.”
Her gaze drifted toward the screen.
“So… he’s back in Korea.”
Cameras flashed endlessly as Geon-woo, surrounded by reporters, exited the terminal.
Even under the blinding light, he didn’t flinch. His expression was calm, unreadable—just like six years ago.
Dressed in a perfectly tailored navy suit, he looked so composed… and distant.
Even more so than she remembered.
How bad will his temper be this time?
Hearing his name again, she found herself worrying—absurdly—about tonight.
“Ha, Kang Yeoul… you’re really pathetic. Worrying about that when you’re dying.”
She sighed bitterly at herself. Even now, she was more anxious about Seung-tae’s temper than her own death.
—Director Ha Geon-woo spent six years overseas, increasing Seo Electronics’ memory chip sales and raising the company’s global rank into the top ten—
She stood abruptly, unwilling to hear more.
She knew Geon-woo had done nothing wrong.
And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to see him kindly.
Dragging her feet, she paid the bill, collected her medicine, and stepped outside.
“Haa…”
The clear, cloudless sky came into view, and she let out a long breath.
She stood there for a while, blankly staring upward, then slowly began to walk—
with no destination in mind.
Vroooom!
“Oh my—!”
“Ah!”
“Kyaa!”
Behind her, a loud engine roared, followed by screams.
Yeoul turned instinctively.
A blue truck was barreling down the sidewalk, speeding straight toward her.
Crash!
There was no time to move. The truck hit her head-on.
Her body was thrown into the air.
Am I… dying like this?
As the sky drew closer, the realization hit her.
She’d been hit by a truck.
Her parents’ faces flashed in her mind.
Mom, Dad… I’m sorry.
For living such a miserable life.
For letting the only news you hear from your daughter… be that she’s dead.
Mom, Dad… I miss—
Thud!
Her body slammed into the ground like a broken doll.
Murmurs erupted around her.
“Ma’am, are you all right?!”
Through her fading vision, she saw a middle-aged man leaning over her.
Huh?
That man… he was the truck driver.
He looked pale and frightened.
“Hey… are you alive?”
Yeoul blinked once, slowly, to show she was still conscious.
“If you’re alive…”
He leaned down until his lips were near her ear.
“Then die quickly.”
“…!”
“Don’t ruin my son’s future.”
