Chapter 46
by Gideon“Are you really congratulating me?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You bastard. This was your doing, wasn’t it?”
“That’s why I couldn’t visit you on your birthday, Auntie. Did you like the gift?”
“Why today of all days? How many more birthdays do I have left to celebrate? Why did you have to orchestrate this on a day like today?”
“Auntie, I’m sorry you missed your birthday meal, but isn’t today the perfect excuse? I have to drive all night, and it’s a Saturday, so the timing works out perfectly, doesn’t it?”
Despite Kang Deok-ho’s gentle explanation, Chairwoman Kang remained displeased.
“You fool, it’s bad luck for a child to die on my birthday.”
“The child was still in the womb. Why are you so concerned?”
“What am I supposed to do? I can’t help being concerned. Ugh, should I ask the Master to pray for the child’s rebirth in paradise?”
It was all so contradictory. Even Chief Ma, listening to the call, shook his head in disbelief at Chairwoman Kang’s utterly selfish behavior.
—Don’t forget to send the infertility medication. It’s a perfect excuse—just tell her it’s a tonic to help with the aftereffects of the accident.
“I suppose I should. I’ll have Chief Ma prepare it.”
Chairwoman Kang nodded, then added, “And make sure Yundo is safe from now on. Today was dangerous for him, wasn’t it? He’s destined for great things. Do you understand?”
—I will be careful.
Chairwoman Kang hung up.
“Chief Ma. Call the Master and tell him I’ll visit tomorrow.”
She was still deeply unsettled, but as they said, great events were always preceded by turmoil. A prayer would set things right. It always did.
The next afternoon, Hyewan remained unconscious, but fortunately, the bleeding had stopped. With her breathing and pulse stabilized, she was moved to a VIP room. Nothing had fundamentally changed, but at least a guardian could now stay by her side twenty-four hours a day.
Yundo forced Min-suk to go home after she’d spent two full days at the hospital. He had no choice—she looked like she would collapse before Hyewan even woke up. Only then did he finally take off his blood-stained clothes and change into a fresh shirt.
The hospital room was silent, save for the rhythmic beeps of the vital signs monitor.
Bad luck. A scapegoat.
Chairwoman Kang’s voice echoed in his mind. It had been ringing in his ears like tinnitus ever since Hyewan went into surgery, refusing to fade.
Sitting close to the bed, Yundo replayed the accident in his mind. The oncoming car had charged toward them, and he had yanked the steering wheel. Then, a car in the next lane had slammed into the passenger side.
The police investigation revealed that the oncoming car had been driven by someone far beyond the legal alcohol limit. The car in the next lane, meanwhile, had been struck by a bolt from the blue while simply staying in its own lane. The accident had happened too fast for the other driver to even slam on the brakes.
The dashcam footage from both vehicles confirmed the facts. Anyone could have been seriously injured; it was a miracle the damage was limited to this.
But why am I completely fine?
He didn’t even have a common case of whiplash.
This is too strange.
Yundo’s mind drifted back to the day Hyewan injured her hand and suffered a concussion. All of it had happened within the six months since they had married.
Was Hyewan really my scapegoat? Did my bad luck flow to her, even causing our Haetsal’s death? If so, then I… What am I supposed to do? How can I even look at Hyewan?
He covered his face with trembling hands.
Then, it happened.
“Ugh…”
The faint groan snapped Yundo back to his senses. He sprang to his feet and instinctively pressed the nurse call button.
“Hyewan, can you hear me? Hyewan!”
He called her name over and over, but her eyelashes only fluttered. Her eyes remained closed. Yundo’s heart burned with desperation.
“Hyewan, it’s me. Please, open your eyes. Please. Look at me. Don’t you want to see me?”
As if his plea had reached her, Hyewan struggled to open her eyes. The brown irises he loved so dearly met his gaze.
“Hyewan!”
Thank God. Thank God.
The moment relief washed over him, Yundo finally broke. He sank to his knees, clutching her hand and sobbing.
Hyewan’s hand, holding his fingers, squeezed back with a faint but steady strength.
“Ah… the… baby…”
Even before she had fully regained consciousness, her first question was about the baby.
“I’m sorry, Hyewan. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”
Yundo wept like a child.
Hyewan stared blankly out the window. The wind shook the branches, sending a shower of leaves fluttering down.
It had been three days since she woke up, and so much had changed.
The pain in her legs was excruciating, but the void left by Haetsal was even greater.
It was also hard to watch Yundo suffer. A drunk driver had caused the accident, so why were they the ones bearing all the pain?
Without realizing it, she stroked her stomach. Her belly, which had been flat even when she was pregnant with Haetsal, felt even flatter now. She hadn’t known it then, but Haetsal had been gradually making his presence known.
The hospital room door opened, and Yundo walked in.
“I’m here. What were you doing?” he asked softly, settling into the chair beside the bed.
“Yundo.”
“Hmm? What is it? Are you in pain?”
“No. It’s about Haetsal.”
“…”
The man who would wake from a dead sleep at the mere mention of Haetsal now fell silent.
“He was the son you always wanted. It’s… it’s all in the past now, but I thought you should know.”
“I already knew.”
“How?”
“The day of the accident. Bora told me while you were in surgery. She said you were planning a gender reveal party for the next day.”
“Yeah…”
“What was that little guy in such a hurry for…”
If he had to leave, he could have at least waited for the celebration.
“Don’t tell me he was Hong Gildong?”
“Because he’s here one minute and gone the next?”
“Then we should have named him Gildong.”
A faint smile touched Hyewan’s gaunt face.
“Gildong… I like that name.”
Smiling while remembering a child who was already gone was a heart-wrenching ordeal.
Yundo didn’t apologize again. No, he couldn’t. He was afraid that an apology, so flimsy compared to their miserable reality, would make his sincerity seem just as cheap.
He rubbed his face with his hands, then forced a cheerful tone. “Does your leg hurt a lot?”
“I didn’t think it would hurt this much,” Hyewan replied, feigning a complaint she didn’t truly mean. If she didn’t, she felt she would spend the entire day clutching her pain and weeping.
“They said it’ll take at least six months to get the cast off and finish rehab. What about law school?”
“I’ve already done everything I can, including the interview. Now I just have to wait and see. It’s not like I’m guaranteed to get in anyway.”
Getting into law school had been Hyewan’s number one goal in life. Yet, even though the only thing left was to wait for the results, she felt no excitement at all. The mere thought of thinking about her own future filled her with guilt.
My child is dead…
Whenever that thought crossed her mind, it was as if a light bulb had been switched off, extinguishing all hope in her life. Her will, her joy—everything vanished.
Two weeks had passed since the accident.
Hyewan had undergone surgery for multiple fractures in the center of her right thigh and calf. She was told she would need at least six months of treatment, including rehabilitation.
The first week was a nightmare. The pain and swelling were so severe she couldn’t sleep. Her insomnia, which had been under control for a while, flared up again, and she could only drift off after taking medication.
By the second week, the swelling finally began to subside, and the pain became manageable. She felt like she could finally breathe again—only to be thrown straight into gait rehabilitation.
Though she leaned on a walker, she clenched her teeth every time she shifted a bit of weight onto her leg.
“I’m going to break my teeth if I keep clenching them like this,” Hyewan grumbled.
“You’re almost back to the room,” Yundo soothed her. “Remember, we agreed to walk all the way there.”
For the past two weeks, Min-suk had taken the morning shifts, and Yundo had been there for the rest of the day. Even though Hyewan had told them both not to come since she had a caregiver, they ignored her.
Hyewan glared at him.
Knowing intellectually that rehabilitation would be difficult was one thing; experiencing it physically was entirely different. Enduring it was even harder. In front of Yundo and Min-suk, she couldn’t cry even when she wanted to, and she couldn’t scream even when she was in pain.
“Alright, get in the wheelchair.”
He gestured to the caregiver, who was following behind with an empty wheelchair. Hyewan brushed past Yundo.
“I’m fine.”
Hyewan found herself growing increasingly cranky and bitter after the accident. And she directed all that malice toward Yundo, the one person who refused to leave her side.
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