Don't Wait for Me
Jaein had gone to the same university as Taeha — same school, same major: Journalism and Broadcasting.
She was pretty sure she'd fallen for him the very moment she first laid eyes on him, back when she was a wide-eyed freshman.
That was how a rookie's hopeless crush began — a crush that carried her all the way into marriage with him, and had never really let go since.
Anyone who heard this would ask how a married couple could still count as a one-sided love. But the truth was simple.
Taeha never loved me.
It was true that she loved him. But he had never once loved her back. Not ever.
And now Jaein had finally resolved to empty that love out of her heart — along with the marriage itself.
She shook her head hard.
Stay strong. Don't waver.
"Are you hurt somewhere? You're not still recovering, are you?"
Jaein studied Taeha, her eyes narrowed to slits.
Maybe he really is sick. I can't just assume.
"I'll call your secretary. Since you're here, I'll have them come get you and get you examined again—"
"Don't bother."
His hand shot out and stopped hers, right as she was reaching for her phone.
"Why shouldn't I? You definitely hit your head. Nothing else makes sense."
How could anyone possibly like me and act the way he has?
"You never liked me, sunbae."
To him, she had been one of countless juniors in the department — someone who had, through a strange turn of events, become his wife, nothing more.
People say affection grows when you live together, but that had never happened for them.
Every time he came back to Korea, he was the same man he'd been before the wedding: dry, distant, unchanged.
If it hadn't been her standing in that spot, it would have been some other woman. She was certain of it.
What he'd needed wasn't Seo Jaein — it was a bride to walk down the aisle for him.
When Jaein lifted her head, their eyes met dead-on.
One second. Two. Silence stretched between them as they held each other's gaze.
Then, after a long moment, the man's lips curled slightly apart.
"But you like me."
His voice carried not a shred of doubt, and Jaein felt her heart sting for no good reason.
Of course I did. Like a madwoman — like someone with a screw loose.
Thinking back on those years, she swallowed down the sigh threatening to escape.
"I don't like you."
At her firm, clipped words, his smooth brows arched up into a curve.
"Now, that I can't believe."
Then a faint smile played at the corner of his mouth.
A smile? Or a sneer?
Caught in that enigmatic smile and the steady gaze that came with it, Jaein looked away first.
"I told you. I don't like you."
"You chased after me for years. How long was that, again?"
"Sunbae, what is wrong with you right now?"
The emotion surging up in her chest made her voice come out sharper than she intended.
"I didn't say I wanted a divorce lightly. Do you have any idea how much I agonized over it?"
Everything she'd endured on the road to that decision came flooding back, and her chest burned.
How did it come to me being the one to ask for a divorce?
She was just starting to get angry at his incomprehensible behavior when he spoke.
"I lost my memory."
At the low voice carving itself into her ear, Jaein's head snapped up.
"What are you talking about?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. The accident took my memories. The doctor says it's partial amnesia."
Unbelieving, Jaein blinked rapidly. Her light brown eyes wavered wide with bewilderment.
He lost his memory?
A month after her father's funeral, Taeha had returned to Korea.
He'd been in an accident in America right around the time her father died — that much she'd heard, along with the news that he couldn't make it back. But by then, Jaein had long since grown weary of this marriage.
So she had handed him the divorce papers the moment he came home.
He was a busy man with barely time to sleep as it was. Sorting things out before he left Korea again would be better for him.
And he had accepted the divorce. She was sure of it.
And now he claims he's forgotten all of it?
Just as the absurdity of it was beginning to sink in, he took a step closer.
His toes nearly touched hers, so near that his breath drifted down over the bridge of her nose.
Before she could even register how close he was, Taeha's large hand cupped her cheek.
"Jaein."
A voice low and quiet slid into her ear.
"I came back from the dead. You're telling me my wife is leaving me — how could I stay sane?"
"……"
"So don't take your things out."
His words, tossed out with a glance around the living room, made Jaein's fists clench tight.
At first, shock had left her floundering in his wake, but the rational mind she'd briefly lost was back now.
He'd changed because of the memory loss. That was all.
The declarations of liking her, the talk of love — the moment his memories returned, all of it would vanish as if it had never happened.
Just as it's impossible to hold water in your bare hands, Woo Taeha was that kind of existence to her.
"No. I'm getting divorced."
Because I don't have the strength left to inflate my hopes anymore. To nurture some futile dream.
"The moment your memory comes back, this ends. Go see the doctor. Get treated. It's an aftereffect of the accident — it'll be temporary."
Wasn't amnesia practically a staple of every drama ever made?
And this wasn't just anyone — this was Woo Taeha of Daeha Group.
If word got out that he'd lost his memory, the family elders would no doubt have the legendary physician Hwata reborn and dragged in on the spot.
That was simply the kind of world he belonged to.
For the briefest moment, his whispered sweetness had made her heart flutter.
Would it really be so bad to stay, just for a little while, with a man who only believes he loves me?
This was the situation I longed for more than anything. For Woo Taeha to love me.
But reality quickly reasserted itself.
Three days? One day?
No. At best, this was a pipe dream that could crumble in a matter of hours.
"I'll see you in court in a week."
Good. That's right. This is the right thing.
But then a solid arm wrapped around her waist, pulling tight so she couldn't retreat a single step.
He bowed his head, and their eyes locked, unblinking.
"What are you doing?"
"I mean it. Anything you want — anything but the divorce — and I'll do it."
Taeha's gaze deepened, as if to say, believe me.
When she simply stared at him, demanding to know what he meant, he spoke first.
"I'm saying I'll give you whatever you need. Every year you stay married to me without divorcing, I'll give you a billion won."
"……"
"And your mother's nursing hospital costs — covered indefinitely. The apartment I promised you, I'll transfer the title to your name right away."
So that's what this is about.
The hospital bills.
He knew she was in a financial bind, and this offer was built on that knowledge.
When she married Taeha, her father's surgery costs had been covered entirely by him.
But pride — maybe that was why she'd never asked him to take on the debts she'd been carrying even before the wedding.
Because if he cleared those too, the marriage really would be nothing more than a transaction for money.
The interest alone on loans totaling hundreds of millions of won for hospital bills.
That was why, even after marrying him, Jaein had never stopped working.
Though she'd never imagined he knew about any of it.
Right down to the bitter end, you reduce a person to money, sunbae. You make me feel utterly pathetic.
"I'm not that incapable, sunbae."
Jaein looked up at Taeha squarely as she spoke.
"I can support my mother myself."
Not that her heart didn't waver at his terms — even a little.
Lifetime coverage for the nursing hospital?
Just easing the monthly burden of millions of won would let her breathe again.
And on top of that, a billion won?
Jaein swallowed down a laugh rising unbidden.
A billion won a year. Five years would be five billion?
She'd never once held even a hundred million, let alone five billion — the figure didn't even feel real.
But still.
That doesn't mean I can walk back into that hell.
Taeha wasn't the only problem.
The mere thought of her in-laws was enough to strangle her awake in the middle of the night, breath catching in her throat.
It was the Daeha family that had driven even her most sacred, devoted crush to raise both hands in surrender.
She truly wanted it to be over now.
With loan interest stacked on top of her mother's hospital bills, life would turn hard and dry as stale bread.
But if it really comes to that, I can always sell the apartment.
"See you next week. And that's enough — leave now. Really. I want to rest."
Jaein pushed Taeha toward the front door, relentlessly.
"If you won't leave, then I will. How about that?"
Contrary to her expectation that he'd dig in and refuse, he let himself be ushered out without protest.
She'd shoved him out the door and was about to close it behind him —
when the door was half shut, a large hand reached through and caught it.
"Don't wait for me."
Taeha's face appeared in the gap as he spoke to her.
"Because I'm not leaving."
Before she could demand what on earth that meant, he released the door, and it swung shut.
And it wasn't long before she found out exactly what he meant.