The Husband Who Wouldn't Stay Unconscious

'It's not just that, though, is it.'

Setting that aside entirely, could she even call herself that man's wife? And above all, Jaein could already picture the faces of her in-laws standing guard outside the operating room. Her father- and mother-in-law, of course, her brother-in-law, and perhaps even the aunts would have shown up. Woo Taeha was the eldest son of a family where every hand was precious, after all.

And not one of them had ever welcomed Jaein.

"Sister-in-law. Taeha is such a perfect son to you, and now this flaw has cropped up—what are we going to do? He should have just dated her. Why on earth did he have to go and marry her?"

They were people born into nobility itself. A perfectly ordinary family—no, if truth be told, a family a step below ordinary. The gap between Jaein's circumstances and theirs was the distance between heaven and earth. Even after five years of marriage, that distance had never once narrowed.

"Didn't they say her father died of cancer while nursing her mother? What was her mother's illness again?"

"Dementia."

"Sister-in-law, don't let the second son marry her. At the very least, you have to match people of the same rank."

The murmured whispers had drifted across the dining room. It was a holiday, a long one, and every unpleasant chore in that household fell to Jaein—yet there had been no seat at the table for her. A stiff, suffocatingly rigid family.

'Was I ever really family to them?'

To them, she had been nothing more than the wife bound to Taeha on paper—nothing more, and nothing less. The moment she pictured her mother-in-law treating her, openly and shamelessly, as if she didn't exist, Jaein shook her head. There was nothing to gain from going to the hospital anyway. As of now, she was nothing but an ex-wife-to-be, on the verge of divorcing Taeha.

Pressing down the turmoil in her chest, Jaein walked back toward the office.

"PD Seo! Are you all right? We heard about the accident. Take care getting there. He'll be fine, I'm sure."

Lunch hour had just ended, it seemed, because everyone she passed offered words of comfort. Apparently they all assumed she was returning to the office only to request a half-day off.

'The irony is, I have no intention of going to the hospital at all.'

Jaein stepped into the office with a sour expression. The instant she crossed the threshold, the wave of attention that crashed toward her made her face burn. She had forgotten, just for a moment, how many people took a keen interest in her marriage.

And small wonder—her husband Taeha was, in name and in fact, the heir to Daeha Group, South Korea's premier conglomerate.

A chaebol and a commoner. An ordinary rookie PD at a broadcast station who had suddenly married into one of the country's richest families. Jaein's story, a real-life Cinderella tale, had sent people into a frenzy. From the wedding onward, straight through to their fifth year of marriage, she had remained a perpetual hot potato.

"What happens to the editing if PD Seo leaves? With the broadcast coming up—oh, I'm not saying anything against you. You know that, right?"

At the Main PD's pointed words as he sidled over, Jaein swallowed a sigh. If she stayed seated in this office, the rumors of marital discord would hit the table before she ever got the chance to announce the divorce.

"I'll take a half-day. I'm sorry."

"Huh? Oh—sorry for what? Go on, hurry."

Left with no choice, Jaein grabbed her bag and rose, hurrying toward the door.

"Did Ga finish his edit?"

"No idea. Feels wrong to ask. Look at her—she's completely out of it."

"Can you blame her? Honestly, PD Seo is holding up better than anyone could."

The hushed voices drifted up from behind her. People's burning curiosity only deepened the tangle in her chest.

We're so close, aren't we.

'Actually, we're getting divorced.'

And I'm not even going to the hospital.

But the words wouldn't leave her mouth. A loving, doting couple—that was what everyone believed them to be, when in truth there was no love between them at all. Their marriage was a fake.

As she left the office behind, a single document surfaced in Jaein's mind. Known as the 'Marriage Dissolution Agreement.'

Having just completed his succession to the Vice Chairmanship, Taeha had set a single condition: the divorce would not be made public for one year. For Jaein's part, it was hardly a bad deal.

Five years of married life had been like sitting on a bed of nails. Whatever she did, for better or worse, people's eyes and attention followed her every move. The one good thing about it was that, with a husband who was the largest shareholder of her own network's holding company, no one dared mistreat her. And that very fact was both a blessing and a curse.

"Honestly, she should just stay home and play the good wife—why does she keep showing up to work? It makes everyone uncomfortable. Some rookie she is."

"Who knows, at the rate she's going she might suddenly get bumped up to team leader."

The smallest slip on Jaein's part got inflated into a colossal blunder, one that connected directly to accusations of incompetence.

'Which is exactly why I worked myself to the bone.'

But effort and reward had never been proportional. In the beginning she had endured out of love; now, she was simply worn down by the noise and the clamor of it all.

Truth be told, Jaein wanted nothing more than to shout it to everyone.

Ladies and gentlemen.

'I'm preparing for a divorce!'

We're breaking up.

But since she couldn't say it, her mouth tasted bitter as ash.

Wouldn't he recover within a day or so? Even a serious injury wouldn't be life-threatening. Once the surgery was over and he recovered, it would all blow over soon enough—to people, this was nothing but a fleeting amusement, a passing piece of gossip.

She had believed that. One day, two days. Even after a week had passed, nothing had changed.

"PD Seo, you look absolutely exhausted. Are you sleeping at all?"

"I'm sorry? Oh... I'm fine."

"It must be hard commuting to and from the hospital. The Vice Chairman will pull through, don't worry!"

Even Cho Seongho, the prickly Main PD who was usually too busy glaring daggers and barking orders, was saying things like this every day.

"That's right. My wife's been praying for him, you know. PD Seo, go home early. You should be at his side."

Even the Variety Bureau Director was stepping in to urge her to leave work.

Praying? Please. The man visits the temple so often he practically lives there.

'And since when has he been this kind?'

Then again—Bureau Director Lee did have every reason to stay in the good graces of Taeha, the head of their holding company. Maybe he'd always been this courteous.

Once more the eyes of the crowd converged on her, and Jaein flinched.

"I'm really fine. There's still the editing to—"

She waved her hands, trying to wave them off.

"Forget the editing, just go. Cho PD will handle it. Won't you?"

"Ah—yes. Of course. Sure."

Seeing Minseop's gloomy face, Jaein felt as though she were standing on a bed of thorns. One person had broken the ice, and now a tide of sympathy came rushing in; she could only manage an awkward smile.

Certain that lingering would only draw more attention, Jaein hurried out of the office. It was only when she left the broadcast station behind and entered her apartment complex that she finally felt like she could breathe.

A week had passed since Taeha's accident, and still he showed no sign of waking. Even though the finest hospital and the finest medical team had collaborated and the surgery had ended successfully. Every day his period of unconsciousness stretched another twenty-four hours, and every day Jaein felt as though the blood was draining from her body.

The end of her deliberation period had arrived, and the Divorce Confirmation Date loomed mercilessly, a single week away. Dozens of times a day, her heart rose and fell like a tide. She had resolved, hard-heartedly, to go through with the divorce—and yet the anxiety kept growing, whispering: what if he never wakes up?

Stupid, sentimental fool. You're not even really his wife.

Once he woke and the divorce proceedings moved forward, they would be nothing more than strangers. Riding up in the elevator, Jaein bit down on her chapped, parched lips, then let go. She should have visited the hospital just once, shouldn't she? A headache came pressing in out of nowhere, and she pressed a hand to her forehead. And just as the elevator doors opened and she was stepping out—

"Why are you only showing up now?"

An all-too-familiar low voice rang in her ears.

Wow. I'm so tired I'm hearing things.

Shaking off the thought, Jaein was about to push forward from where she'd frozen in place when heavy footsteps followed, then stopped directly in front of her. A pair of shoes dropped into her field of vision without warning. Finding the shoes of a man standing right before her, Jaein lifted her head.

"Seo Jaein."

The voice she'd dismissed as a hallucination was impossibly vivid. Five years—no, since her days as a college freshman, she had known this voice better than any other. A voice deep enough to swallow a cavern whole; there was only one like it in all of South Korea.

Even as she straightened her head, her heart pounded riotously at the impossible hope. Thud. Thud. Thud.

Feeling each beat, Jaein raised her eyes, and a huge figure filled her vision. The moment her gaze locked with the man looking down at her, her heart dropped through the floor.

Taeha—the man who was supposed to be unconscious—was looking down at her.

Jaein stared, her parted lips refusing to close.

"Wh-what are you—?"

Why was the man who'd been unconscious standing there looking so perfectly fine?