Chapter 10
At that time—
Seoyeong was glaring at the text message Han Seoha had sent, as if he were standing right behind the screen.
It was the first time he had contacted her first. Truly the first.
Come to think of it, that wasn’t the only first.
If they were to eat together, she had to go wait in the dining room in advance.
If she wanted to see him off, she had to stand by the entrance and wait first.
Because Han Seoha never waited for her.
If Seoyeong wasn’t there, he simply ate alone.
If she wasn’t at the door, he just left for work.
“What an idiot you were, Lee Seoyeong.”
They had been married for five whole years. And yet this was the first time she’d ever received a text message initiated by him.
And asking to have dinner together?
That, too, was a first.
But even after cutting and tearing away at those thoughts, what rose up inevitably was expectation.
After five years, her husband had texted her first—and she was happy.
She wanted to reply immediately, brightly: Yes.
She had decided not to love him anymore. But apparently, that wasn’t something you could accomplish through sheer will alone.
Why am I such a fool?
The self-loathing rising in her chest made it hard to breathe. Seoyeong took a slow, deep breath.
“The secretary’s office called. They asked if you’re at Yeonhaedang, ma’am.”
One of the staff who helped manage Yeonhaedang’s kitchen delivered the message in Manager Kim’s absence.
When Seoyeong didn’t respond, they must have called here. She nodded once and fell back into thought.
Shouldn’t I have told them not to throw the shoes away?
But she hadn’t been able to help herself.
That morning, out of nowhere, Naeun’s message had arrived.
In the photo, long slender legs stretched out casually from wherever she was sitting. At the end of them—red shoes Seoyeong recognized all too well.
The pair Seoyeong had worn had long since been sent to a charity bazaar. There was no way Naeun had bought them back from there.
—
Oppa, what do you think? Do they suit me? I told my friends my boyfriend bought them for me. That’s okay, right?
—
Five red heart emojis followed.
Ha.
With a sigh, Seoyeong had gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles stood out. She had thought she’d carved those feelings out completely, but they flared back up in an instant.
—
I’m sorry, unni. I sent it by mistake. I’m really sorry.
—
Five minutes later, Naeun—who wasn’t sorry at all—had sent that message.
And as if on cue, another pair of shoes was delivered. High heels clearly chosen by the department store’s dedicated team, perfectly matching Seoyeong’s taste.
Of course she’d told them to throw them away.
“Ma’am?” the staff member prompted again.
“Oh. I’ll contact them myself. Thank you.”
Seoyeong picked up her phone.
—
Yes. Where shall we meet?
—
As she accepted her husband’s dinner invitation for the first time in five years, unreadable emotions stormed through her eyes.
The restaurant, undoubtedly reserved by the secretary’s office, was flawless—interior, ambiance, food.
As Seoyeong cut into her grilled sea bream and placed a piece into her mouth, she glanced at Han Seoha, who was slicing lamb across from her.
Dressed in a charcoal-gray suit so dark it looked black at first glance, he looked immaculate as always. Even in the evening, his dress shirt didn’t have a single wrinkle.
He really did resemble his father. For two—no, three—generations, the handsome looks of the Han family had been widely talked about among elite circles.
Her mother-in-law often said she’d married her father-in-law eighty percent for his face, even knowing hardship awaited her.
Pale, sharp features. Thick brows. Piercing eyes and deep, shadowed irises.
He should’ve been a celebrity with that face. Then Mom wouldn’t have married me off to him.
Seoyeong sighed faintly and took another bite of sea bream topped with carrot purée.
At least the fish was delicious.
If he’d invited her to dinner for some specific reason, Han Seoha hadn’t said it yet.
In fact, since entering the restaurant, Seoyeong had spoken more with the manager and sommelier—who recognized her—than she had with her husband.
Han Seoha finally opened his mouth near the end of the meal. Seoyeong, staring blankly at the ice cream served for dessert, looked up when she heard him clear his throat.
“The shoes…”
“I received them. Thank you.”
She responded brightly.
He probably didn’t even know what had been sent. He wouldn’t know she’d thrown them away.
“Shall we have the tea brought out?”
Neither of them had touched the ice cream. Watching it slowly melt inside the shell-shaped tart, Seoyeong asked.
Han Seoha seemed about to say something, then merely nodded.
Even as the teacups were set and the server poured the pale amber tea, he remained silent.
He must have had a reason for asking her to dinner…
“Is there something you want to say?”
Since he seemed unable to start, Seoyeong asked instead.
He gazed at her quietly.
“On your mother’s memorial day…”
That wasn’t what she’d expected. And it was June. He was talking about April.
It was almost amusing.
Seoyeong waited.
“Naeun had an accident in Daejeon. She was missing for a short while. Someone had to go down.”
“I see,” Seoyeong nodded calmly.
He swallowed, intending to apologize for not informing her sooner.
Watching her spear a cube of orange jelly with a small silver fork and place it into her mouth, he chose his next words carefully.
“She’s been diagnosed with depression. They say she’s under severe stress.”
“Kang Naeun?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I was hoping… you could be understanding, even if she behaves excessively—”
“Okay.”
Seoyeong answered lightly. So easily that Han Seoha was taken aback.
He had learned of Naeun’s depression on his last trip to Daejeon. She’d said frightening thoughts kept coming, that she felt overwhelmingly sad. He’d told her to see a doctor. The next day she said she’d been diagnosed with depression.
Only then had many things made sense—her tendency to act like a great victim over trivial matters, her excessive reactions to Seoyeong’s behavior, her fragile dependence on him.
He had thought explaining it would clear Seoyeong’s long-held misunderstanding.
But her gaze and demeanor were detached. The Seoyeong who used to bristle at the mere mention of Naeun, whose lashes trembled with agitation—she wasn’t here.
He swallowed again.
“So that’s why you asked me to dinner?”
To ask her to take care of Naeun?
It wasn’t exactly that—but he had wanted to untie the knot regarding Naeun. Close enough. He nodded.
“I see.”
Bringing up something unmentioned for two months just to justify himself.
Seoyeong looked at him quietly.
“Now you’re out.”
He blinked. “What?”
She just smiled and shook her head.
“Shall we go, if you’re finished with your tea?”
She looked at him calmly, seeking his agreement. He met her eyes.
Her gaze was still clear. The drawn-on smile at the corners of her lips unchanged.
But something was different. For months now, he had occasionally sensed an unfamiliar distance.
Suddenly anxious, he began, “Then let’s take the same car—”
Before he could finish, Seoyeong picked up her handbag and stood.
The waiting manager hurried forward to pull out her chair.
“Thank you,” she said politely.
Han Seoha forgot what he’d been about to say, just watching her.
“How was your meal?”
“The sea bream was excellent. I liked it much better than the grouper last time.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Chef Heo will be pleased. He put special effort into it.”
“I thought so,” she replied with a radiant smile.
Watching her, an inexplicable discomfort tightened in Han Seoha’s chest. He rose, lips pressed thin.
His throat felt scratchy, his tongue dry. He cleared it unnecessarily, but Seoyeong didn’t even glance his way.
She spoke again while they stood briefly at the entrance waiting for her car.
“There’s something I want to show you.”
The early summer night breeze lifted her hair.
She stepped closer and held out her phone to him, a faintly mischievous expression on her face.
It had been a long time since she’d looked at him so familiarly. He was oddly glad—and yet faintly irritated for reasons he couldn’t name.
Without replying, he took the phone.
A text message screen.
A photo of someone in short hot pants.
He narrowed his eyes and looked closer.
Then he checked the sender.
What the—
Seeing the familiar shoes and familiar name, his face hardened.
Seoyeong swiftly snatched the phone back.
“What does it make you think?”
Seeing the photo sent by your sweet, pure—now depressed—little sister.
He couldn’t speak. Shock was written plainly across his face.
Her eyes glittered, just a little cruelly.
“Goodbye.”
Right then, her car pulled up, driven by Migyeong. With a gesture, she signaled for Migyeong to remain seated and opened the door herself.
“And. Let’s get a divorce.”
In the exact same tone as Goodbye.
Ignoring Migyeong’s gasp from inside the car, Seoyeong stepped in.
Han Seoha stood there, unable to respond, half-dazed as he watched the car drive away.
