CHAPTER 37…………………………………
I wanted to run away, but I couldn’t. Divorce was, realistically, impossible. She knew that too.
That this relationship was an inescapable shackle.
The sound of the shower was still running. The steady rush of water—pouring down like a silent confession—only made her heart more tangled.
When the water stopped, the room fell quiet again.
Only then did Hana slowly lower her head. The warmth of the tears left on her fingertips lingered strangely long.
The next morning.
Hana woke up much earlier than usual. She had kept her eyes closed for hours, but she had barely slept at all.
All night long, Geonwoo’s words from yesterday kept circling in her mind.
“I like you.”
That single sentence echoed endlessly in her ears. His flushed face, reddened from alcohol, the way he had looked straight into her eyes—she couldn’t stop remembering it.
Hana shook her head hard.
Don’t think about it. He just said it because he was drunk.
When she got out of bed, the cold air brushed against her skin. She went into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. The skin beneath her eyes was swollen. The evidence of crying all night was still there.
She turned on the cold water full blast and splashed her face again and again. Her skin stung from the chill, but her thoughts remained feverishly warm.
She rubbed at her eyes with her palms, trying to reduce the swelling, but the reflection in the mirror didn’t change.
“This isn’t good…”
She muttered quietly as she dried her face with a towel. She tied up her hair and changed into casual clothes.
It was Sunday. The housekeeper had the day off.
Hana stood still for a long moment before heading to the kitchen. If she didn’t move, the thoughts would come rushing back.
When she opened the refrigerator, a wave of cold air touched her face. Inside were the neatly arranged ingredients the housekeeper had stocked a few days ago.
Hana hesitated briefly, then reached out.
Bean sprouts. Green onions. Garlic. Red pepper powder.
Geonwoo had drunk a lot last night. The thought crossed her mind, and before she even realized it, her body was already moving. Then she caught herself and let out a small laugh.
“What am I even doing…”
She said that aloud, but she was already pouring water into a pot.
She took out her phone and searched for “simple bean sprout hangover soup recipe.”
After scrolling through a few options, she chose the one that looked easiest.
‘First, wash the bean sprouts.’
Following the instructions with her eyes, she rinsed them. The sprouts swayed in the water. The coldness against her fingertips finally cleared her head a little.
‘Chop the green onions… mince the garlic… one spoonful of red pepper powder…’
She propped her phone up beside her and copied the steps. But her unfamiliar hands kept fumbling. While slicing the green onions, she nicked her finger.
“Ah…!”
She brought her finger to her mouth. There wasn’t much blood, but it stung.
Cooking was clearly far outside her comfort zone. She smiled bitterly and kept going.
Soon white steam began rising from the pot. The bubbling sound filled the kitchen.
She tasted the broth. It was bland.
‘A little too plain…’
She added some salt and tasted it again. This time, it was decent.
‘This should be… edible.’
She opened the rice cooker, scooped out rice, and placed kimchi and side dishes on the table.
She arranged the spoons and chopsticks neatly.
For two people.
Hana paused in front of the table. The simple spread felt strangely unfamiliar. The fact that she had cooked for Geonwoo felt odd.
After crying so much yesterday, after being hurt, after making up her mind—yet here she was.
Then suddenly, his words came back to her.
“I’ve liked you from the first time I saw you until now.”
His voice echoed again in her ears.
Hana lowered her head. Her chest felt… strange. It wasn’t pounding excitement, nor fluttering affection.
It was just a complicated knot of emotions.
Was it just lingering feelings? Did he really like me?
After a moment, she scolded herself.
No. He must’ve said it because he was drunk.
She stirred the soup once more and muttered,
“That’s not love. It’s obsession.”
The words she had said last night resurfaced.
Yes. That had to be right. What Geonwoo felt wasn’t love.
At least… she wanted to believe that. It was easier that way.
That didn’t mean she wanted a divorce from him either.
Caught in the middle of a heart that could neither hold on nor let go, she couldn’t even give herself an answer.
That was why.
Believing that his feelings weren’t love—no, choosing to believe that—was far more comfortable.
Just then, she heard footsteps in the hallway. Hana quickly composed her expression.
Her heart pounded wildly, but she forced herself to look calm. As if nothing had happened. As if she had always been this way.
Geonwoo walked into the living room wearing a gray sweatshirt and comfortable training pants. His hair was still damp, droplets falling from the ends.
He must have just finished showering.
But his face looked terrible. Dark circles hung under his eyes, exhaustion written all over him.
Whether it was from last night’s drinking or from not sleeping much, she couldn’t tell.
He stopped in the middle of the living room. His gaze toward her was cautious. Their eyes met briefly, then slid away.
“…You’re up?”
He spoke first. His voice was low, softer than usual.
“Yes.”
Hana hesitated before answering.
“Sit down.”
Geonwoo nodded slightly and walked to the table. He pulled out a chair carefully and sat. Hana ladled the soup into a bowl and placed it in front of him, then took the seat opposite him.
“I made hangover soup. You seemed to drink a lot last night.”
She spoke without meeting his eyes.
“Thank you.”
“It might not taste good.”
She said it plainly, as if nothing had happened last night. Geonwoo looked at her.
Should he bring it up? Or not?
After a brief hesitation, he simply picked up his spoon. He took a mouthful of the soup Hana had made.
The hot broth slid down his throat, soothing his stomach. It was spicy and refreshing. The taste was clumsy—but strangely, it warmed his heart.
“It’s good.”
“I’m glad.”
For a while, neither of them spoke. Only the clinking of spoons filled the table.
But the silence wasn’t empty. The tension from yesterday, the regret, and the unspoken feelings wrapped around them like a thin veil.
“Hana.”
She kept her eyes on her bowl as she responded softly.
“…Yes.”
“About last night…”
“I know.”
She cut him off. Short, but firm.
“You said it because you were drunk. I’ll just forget it.”
At that, Geonwoo’s hand froze. A drop of broth fell from the tip of his spoon.
“No. Don’t forget it.”
Hana looked up at him.
“What?”
Geonwoo set down his spoon and met her eyes directly.
“Everything I said—I meant it.”
“……”
“That I like you. The promise I made. I meant all of it.”
Hana couldn’t respond. Her heart no longer beat in a steady rhythm. Something churned inside her.
As if unable to endure her silence, Geonwoo spoke again.
“I’ll try.”
She lowered her head. There was desperation in his voice.
“I’ll keep trying. Until you accept me. Until you can forgive me.”
Hana remained silent for a long time. Her hand, still holding the spoon, hovered in midair.
Then she slowly opened her mouth.
“…Honestly, I still don’t know.”
Geonwoo’s gaze wavered slightly.
