The dawn was moonless and cold. A figure staggered across the backyard, dragging itself as if its legs wouldn’t cooperate. It was Ji-woo, who had slipped out after Seo Tae-joon had finally drifted to sleep.
Someone had once said that pleasure only ends in pain, and they had been right. Every muscle in her body ached. A dull, throbbing hurt radiated from deep between her legs, a phantom fullness that made her shift uncomfortably, as if he were still inside her.
His eyes, his groans, the searing heat of his skin… If she let her mind wander for even a second, she was right back there.
“Phew…” She sank onto a wooden stool, burying her face in her hands. I made a mistake. A huge one.
The exhaustion was bone-deep, but her mind wouldn’t rest. The thought of Seo Tae-joon was a constant presence, but it brought no joy. There was no happiness here, only the suffocating certainty that she had just finished digging her own grave.
Ji-woo pulled out her phone, her lip curling in a scowl at the name on the screen: Seo Ki-seok.
He answered on the first ring. He always did.
A fresh wave of rage washed over her. He was the root of all this. Suddenly, she understood why Mi-sook had smacked her so hard when she’d confessed to sleeping with Seo Tae-joon.
Mi-sook had been worried it would get complicated, that emotions would poison everything. Ji-woo took a shaky breath.
“Seo Tae-joon, please promise me something. Never…” Her voice had hitched on a desperate breath. “Never get your memory back.”
“Then I won’t.”
Ji-woo squeezed her eyes shut, pushing the memory away. When she opened them again, a grim determination had settled in her heart. She held a white handkerchief in her palm.
Unfolding it revealed a thin, gray string nestled in the cloth. She had hidden it two years ago. Seo Tae-joon’s string.
He had attacked her with it in the forest, wrapping it around her neck until the world had begun to go dark.
Is it from a factory? she wondered, turning it over. It was thin like aluminum wire, yet hard, with a frightening elasticity.
Ji-woo flicked a lighter and touched the flame to the string. I’ll do the same, she vowed. I will never remember that day again.
Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm of guilt. Seo Tae-joon could be rough, but the man he was now… he was kind to her. He couldn’t seem to wake up properly if she wasn’t by his side. He was terrified of being abandoned. Those vulnerabilities were what held her together, and paradoxically, what strengthened her resolve now.
She threw the smoldering string to the ground and scraped dirt over it with her shoe. A burial. That night, she let go of everything.
“Ji-woo, it’s time to wake up,” a gentle voice murmured.
She was too tired, burrowing deeper into the blankets. The rich aroma of coffee drifted to her. A rough but gentle hand brushed the hair from her face.
She forced her eyes open to see a tray set with a cup of coffee and a sandwich. And beside it, the man who had made them for her.
“Did you sleep well?” He smiled, radiant in the morning light.
“Uh…”
Sunlight streamed through a gap in the curtains, illuminating the room. It took a moment for her mind to catch up, and when it did, a hot blush crept up her neck and flooded her face.
She couldn’t meet his eyes. Ji-woo yanked the blanket over her head, hiding in the darkness. Seo Tae-joon’s smile faltered slightly, but he seemed to understand her need to retreat.
Mi-sook always said a woman’s first time was eighty percent talk. Men would come at you promising the world, she’d grumble, but it usually ended up being nothing special. But Ji-woo knew better. She had nearly passed out.
Mi-sook, I was the one who was nothing special! When Ji-woo had finally surfaced from her exhausted sleep, everything was different. He had cleaned her and dressed her in fresh pajamas. Her ripped clothes were gone. The stained bedsheet had been replaced. The room was pristine, as if nothing had happened at all.
Ji-woo had looked around in a daze, wondering if she’d dreamt it. But the persistent, throbbing ache between her legs insisted it had been real.
The realization that he had tended to everything—including her—sent a fresh wave of heat to her cheeks.
“Ji-woo.” He tugged the blanket away from her face. Strands of messy hair fell across her eyes as he leaned over her.
“Thank you very much for yesterday!” she blurted out. “I appreciate your hospitality.”
He burst out laughing. “Feels a little formal,” he said, an amused glint in his eye. “I was half-expecting you to hand me a few bills for a taxi home.”
“What?”
“Is that really what you want to say after last night, Ji-woo?”
“Ah. No…”
“I suppose I might have surprised you. I guess I came on a little strong, but you wouldn’t even touch me.” He smirked. “Still, I’m glad you appreciate my ‘hospitality’.”
Ji-woo opened her mouth to argue, but Seo Tae-joon changed the subject. “Does it hurt anywhere?”
“Well, after the way you manhandled me, what do you think?” she shot back, too flustered to be polite to the man teasing her so early in the morning.
Seo Tae-joon bit his lip, suppressing another laugh. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“The way you lied yesterday.”
Ji-woo dropped her head, shame washing over her. This was the guilt of an unfaithful wife, even if their marriage was a sham. It was a filthy feeling, a betrayal she wore like a second skin.
“I’ll say it again,” Seo Tae-joon said, his voice low. “It doesn’t matter what you do. You can’t push me away with those little hands of yours.”
He reached for her hair, and she flinched away, covering her face with both hands. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe.
“Ji-woo,” he called her name, his voice softening.
“It was all my fault,” she mumbled from behind her hands, her voice trembling. Seo Tae-joon watched her, his expression unreadable.
“I wasn’t… I wasn’t really seeing another man. Not like you think. I was just… curious. I wanted to see if other men were different from you. Whether my heart would pound for them the way it does for you. I just had to check.”
“…”
“Because I really…”
Ji-woo couldn’t force the words out. Seo Tae-joon just stared, waiting, as she hid behind her hands.
“I just… you’re so scary. I’m afraid of you when I think about the kind of person you used to be. When you said you’d be my dog, it was a little easier to be with you. I always looked at you while you slept…”
Seo Tae-joon’s eyebrows lifted at that. “It’s the first time I’ve ever been so frustrated with someone,” she continued, her voice barely a whisper. “Every day feels like a mess because of you.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. And why are you blushing? Your ears are turning bright red.