Chapter 30
Let alone false love. What a shallow mask it is.
“Every day feels like living in hell.”
The great Kang Yeol-jin was gasping for breath. His thick, muscular back heaved like a turtle’s shell. He poured out hot breaths in chunks onto my thigh.
Who was the Kang Yeol-jin I knew? Was this yet another shell he created? Or was it the most intimate and fragile layer revealed after peeling away many layers?
What is the truth? Between the Kang Yeol-jin in the photo smiling brightly next to me, the Kang Yeol-jin from my memory who tried to strangle me, and the Kang Yeol-jin before me now, who seemed to be earnestly expressing his feelings while hiding many things.
Which of these is the truth?
So just how unreal is this scene right now?
You’ve lost nothing, and I have no intention of receiving you with kindness.
“You don’t have to remember anything.”
Just love me a little…
The lover who hit me with a car, my husband, kneels at my feet, begging me to love him.
“You said you would protect me forever.”
He presses his nose firmly against the inside of my thigh. I can feel that heavy weight. If I were to weave together my guilt, remorse, and shame, it would birth a work of art called you.
My shabby creation speaks, chasing after my scent, uttering each word as if it were desperately yearning.
“Don’t make me feel scared and lonely, Hee-Jae.”
I thrust my fingers into his thick, dark hair. Silky, glistening strands of black hair scatter through my fingers.
Looking down at that, I remembered the slender strands of hair that shimmered with a light as faint as autumn leaves. The scent of sunlight, the smell of soap, Sun-woo.
“Did I say I would protect you?”
“Yeah.”
I promised to protect you forever. Kang Yeol-jin babbles as he rubs his eyes against my chest. Anyone who saw this might think it was a heartfelt confession of love, but… I already knew the dirty and shabby core hidden beneath this façade.
“Hee-Jae, I can’t see out of one eye.”
With his eyes tightly shut, Sun-woo stood before me, shedding tears. He had always smiled brightly, comforting me with his innocent laughter.
Thinking of Sun-woo, whom I can no longer meet, the shards of glass scattered chaotically in my mind slowly start to align.
Ah, now I understand.
What I need to do from now on isn’t merely to paint the picture I’ve always wanted to create.
“Can you see the fetus here?”
“Yes, I can see it.”
A white mass wriggles on the monitor. It looks like handmade dough, swimming in black liquid.
17 weeks. The child that has been nestled inside me for a little over four months.
“I can see the g******s slightly. It’s a beautiful little alpha prince.”
The doctor gives a subtle hint. A soft smile lingers on his lips.
“How do you feel seeing the baby like this? Isn’t it incredibly lovely?”
He whispers as if we’re creating a happy secret just for ourselves. I’m sorry, but I cannot participate in that happiness.
“It just feels like living dust.”
I was simply excruciatingly numb. I couldn’t dare to feel paternal love, tenderness, or affection.
“Completely useless.”
I felt a twitch; the doctor’s expression cracked.
The baby was pitiful. The world you were about to be born into would be hell. If only you had met different parents, would you have been able to be happy like other children?
Isn’t there a saying? Only those who have tasted food can create flavor. I have lived without ever tasting or feeling what family love is like.
Can I really provide the baby with a comfortable and cozy life?
…No, can this child even be born normal in the first place?
“It seems like you’re still having a hard time grasping it.”
He awkwardly laughs, “Hahaha.” The hollow sound of his laughter reverberates against the walls surrounding me.
“Not all expectant mothers develop an attachment to their babies right away. Everyone needs a little time.”
He adds that it’s good to relax with light exercise or walks, maybe even swimming.
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