UB 83

CHAPTER 83……………………………………………….

Hyunha’s grandmother sat slumped in a chair, rubbing her chest weakly.

“Jini called earlier—what on earth is she talking about? She rambled on about you going to Suhyeok’s mansion, seeing a fire… none of it made any sense.”

“You two left the hospital without saying a word and went and got yourselves into trouble. You’re parents now! How could you come back injured without telling your grandfather? Whatever happened, you should speak up so your grandfather can help.”

“It’s a matter between husband and wife. Please ignore Auntie’s call.”

Even in front of his grandparents, who were frantically pressing him for answers, Hyunha responded with ease. Unsure whether he should tend to Hyunha’s injuries first or scold him further, Chairman Choi squeezed his eyes shut and let out a frustrated breath.

“And you—why aren’t you saying anything?”

The anger shifted toward Youngin. Since he couldn’t really scold Hyunha, he wanted to vent his fury on her instead. The timing worked out. After choosing her words, Youngin finally spoke.

“I want to divorce Hyunha.”

Even Chairman Choi, who had been shouting moments earlier, was struck speechless. Hyunha’s grandmother went so far as to pretend to faint.

“Chairman!”
At once, Chairman Choi’s secretary rushed to support Hyunha’s grandmother.

Choi Hyunha stared at Youngin, completely frozen. As the commotion swelled in the heavy silence, Youngin fiddled with the singed ends of her hair. She should probably cut it.

Youngin finished carefully writing her name on the documents and rested her cheek against the cap of her pen, pressing her face so her cheek dimpled slightly.

“No matter how many times you write it, it’s useless.”

Hyunha sat across from her and held out a mug. Warm milk released a nutty aroma. Youngin warmed her lips against the mug for a moment before taking a sip. Honey had been added—it was sweet.

“You don’t even have grounds for fault. How are you planning to get custody?”

Hyunha tapped the papers lightly.

They were divorce application forms. The first one she’d handed him had been torn up and thrown away, and she’d lost count of how many times she’d rewritten them since.

“We can meet on weekends.”

“And who’s going to allow that?”

“You.”

The answer was shamelessly confident. Hyunha twisted his mouth.

“I will never divorce you. No matter how much you beg, it won’t happen.”

“I’m not begging. I’m just trying, thinking maybe someday it’ll work.”

“Someday?”

“When you start wanting to leave me.”

“And then wouldn’t I naturally throw you away?”

It was a sharp question, but Youngin didn’t flinch.

“Isn’t it kind of pathetic to just wait for the day you’re discarded? Besides, we’ve already tried that once.”

She’d already exhausted herself hiding, waiting, and running away. She didn’t think it had been meaningless—but she never wanted to do it again.

“Here.”

After filling out her section of the paperwork, Youngin slid it toward Hyunha.

“The baby will be back soon.”

Their son, barely over six months old, was unexpectedly being showered with affection by his aunt. For reasons unknown, Choi Jini had fallen hard for the baby after holding him just a few times. Without even being asked, she insisted on playing with him and taking him out for walks.

At first, Youngin had been wary, wondering if there might be ill intent. But watching her closely, it was clear—Jini genuinely adored the child.

“Little Aunt! Haneul and Yeyul are here!”

From the entryway came a bright, chiming shout, followed by a girl in loose T-shirt and pants running in at full speed.

Behind her, an utterly drained-looking Choi Jini was lifting the baby out of the stroller.

“She’s so polite when she’s with her own mom, but look at her now…”

“Welcome, Yeyul. Did you have fun?”

“We went to the park again today.”

“Go wash your hands first.”

Hyunha took the baby into his arms.

“Aren’t you two moving again? Ugh. I wish this place were bigger.”

Jini grumbled as she came into the living room.

Compared to the first newlywed home they’d had, this one was much smaller—simpler, with far fewer things to manage. There were fewer hired staff, too. Hyunha disliked having strangers in the house, and Youngin wanted peace and quiet, so it worked out well. They only accepted help where necessary.

“You can afford it—why live here? Just build a house.”

“We’ll think about it later.”

“Ah… well, it’s not really my place to say. I spoke out of turn again.”

As soon as she heard Hyunha’s cool tone, Jini mimed slapping her own lips shut. Youngin finished the milk left in her mug.

“Soyeong unni and Ji-hyeok oppa are stopping by Korea briefly. Gwonho happens to be here too—shouldn’t we get the family together? What do you think, Youngin?”

“I heard they were coming as well.”

“Or should I tell them not to come?”

Jini tested the waters with a sly smile.

Even if she doted on Youngin and Hyunha’s child, people didn’t change completely overnight. This family was still exhausting.

“If you say you don’t want to, there’s nothing I can do.”

Except that Youngin’s position had changed considerably.

“If I tell Soyeong unni not to come, she won’t even be able to step foot in Incheon Airport.”

The contempt in her tone was unmistakable. Yeyul peeked her head out of the bathroom, and only then did Jini realize her mistake and fall silent.

“I’m not sure if I can bring the baby since he’s still so young, but I’ll attend the gathering.”

Youngin answered while looking at the child in Hyunha’s arms. When she beckoned to Yeyul, the girl scampered over and pressed herself snugly against Youngin’s side.

“Stay and eat dinner, Yeyul.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I asked your little aunt to prepare what you like.”

Left out of the dinner invitation, Jini pouted and grabbed her bag. Lately, their days were mostly like this—peaceful, in their own way.

After dinner with Yeyul and seeing her off, the baby woke briefly to feed and then slept quietly. He didn’t stir or wake again.

“How does he sleep this much?”

Hyunha muttered, gazing down at the sleeping child. The awe in his voice sounded almost pure, making Youngin snort softly.

“Babies usually sleep a lot.”

“Still, he sleeps all day. He doesn’t cry, doesn’t fuss.”

“Must be his nature.”

“He doesn’t take after you or me, then.”

With Hyunha’s words, silence settled in. When alone together, the two rarely talked much.

Was it because there was nothing left to fight about? Because they’d given up fighting? After abandoning all the scratching, clawing, and stabbing—where were they heading now?

“I love you.”

Hyunha confessed abruptly.

Choi Hyunha said it sometimes, as if he couldn’t hold it in.

He still looked at Youngin with eyes that seemed ready to go mad with desire. When she felt how desperately he was holding himself back, Youngin felt something close to sorrow.

I still often want to drag you to hell.

I wished our ending wouldn’t be love.

The sunlight faded from the living room as evening quietly arrived.

Sunlight poured into the living room. The scene had changed again. Soft, colorful mats covered the floor to keep the baby from getting hurt, and padded guards were attached to every corner.

“Don’t wanna.”

A little boy standing in the middle scrunched up his face stubbornly.

“Choi Haneul. Saying you don’t want to won’t change anything.”

Crouched down in front of the small child, Hyunha replied calmly. The crease between Haneul’s brows deepened.

“Don’t wanna!”

Haneul let out a shrill cry and shoved Hyunha’s shoulder.

“Daddy, don’t wanna.”

After pronouncing “Daddy” more clearly than ever before, Haneul hurried off to his room. Still kneeling, Hyunha let out a stunned breath.

“Ha…”

Before his sigh even finished, Youngin came down the stairs.

“Why are you two fighting?”

Holding the railing carefully, she came to a stop in front of him.

“We’re not fighting. We just don’t understand each other.”

“He’s a baby. He’s barely fourteen months old.”

“I wasn’t like that as a kid. I might’ve pushed things, sure, but—”

Youngin’s eyebrow tilted sharply upward.

“You don’t really know what you were like as a child.”

Hyunha looked at her with a haughty expression, as if he could list a hundred counterexamples, but—miraculously—kept his mouth shut. If he’d said a hundred things, Youngin would have countered with a hundred and one. For Haneul’s sake.

“I’ll go talk to him.”

Youngin walked to the child’s room. Haneul had turned his back toward the door, playing with his toys as if to announce his displeasure.

“Why did you fight with Daddy?”

As Youngin sat beside him, Haneul furrowed his brow deeply.

“Grandpa.”

“Right, we’re supposed to go see Grandpa today.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“You don’t like Grandpa?”

“……”

“You don’t want to go see Grandpa.”

Haneul tossed aside the block he’d been holding. Youngin fell into thought.

“We promised we’d go today, so we have to. But from now on, I’ll ask you whether you want to go somewhere or not.”

“……”

“Sometimes you still have to go even if you don’t want to. When that happens, Mommy and Daddy will explain why.”

Haneul said nothing, just fiddled with the blocks.

On his first birthday, Haneul had treated everyone with remarkable indifference. His grandfather had been delighted by his great-grandson’s boldness, and Hyunha said he took after him. After the grand celebration ended and Youngin held him, the child cried quietly, as if in secret.

After stacking and knocking over blocks for a while, Haneul finally nodded.