Reunion

Her vision blurred almost at once, but she paid it no mind. All she wanted was to run to where he was.

It happened in an instant. A shadow loomed up before her, and the bodyguards stepped in, cutting Yeon-jae off from the sight of him. The secretary who had been at his side must have summoned them.

"How did you get in here? This area is off-limits to outsiders."

They gestured toward the door with sour, unwilling faces. But even their thinly veiled warning could not pull Yeon-jae's attention from the man.

"I'm not an outsider. It's me—Yeon-jae, sir!"

Her desperate voice rang through the hospital room, yet Je-heon did not so much as stir. He merely shrugged on the jacket his secretary held out to him.

"Je-heon! Oppa!"

This time it was that aching cry—an intimate name, torn from her throat—that filled the room. At the sound of a voice that seemed to split apart as it rose, Je-heon's brow furrowed deeply as he straightened his clothes.

"Let's talk for a moment."

Only then was Yeon-jae released from the rough grip that had bound her. The secretary and the bodyguards stepped back with visible displeasure, and a hush settled over the room.

The man crossed the empty hospital room toward her. He closed the distance step by step, then stopped a single pace away.

"What do you think you're doing?"

That unflinching downward gaze made Yeon-jae's heart clench. She had only watched him from afar until now. Meeting him this close, it finally became real: Je-heon had woken up.

"When… did you wake up? I didn't even know. Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

Relief, longing, gratitude—too many feelings tangled without order. Before she knew it, her face was a ruin of falling tears.

"I waited. I waited the whole time with my heart in my throat."

"……"

"Are you all right? Are you really all right? I was so worried. No—thank you for waking up. Truly……"

Yeon-jae caught at his sleeve and wept without restraint. The tension that had been crushing her ever since she first heard of his accident seemed, at last, to loosen its hold.

"I'm so glad……"

That was what she had meant to say.

A sharp tug. Je-heon pulled her hand from his sleeve and shoved it away. Her fingers, yielding to the force of him, fell weakly into empty air.

"Ha. What is this now."

Annoyance sat plain in his eyes as he swept his hair back. The motion uncovered the gaze that had been hidden beneath it.

The pitch-black eyes that fixed on Yeon-jae were edged with something sharp as a drawn blade.

The voice that struck her ear was cold enough to carry frost even in midsummer.

"Still at it, I see. Making a nuisance of yourself without a shred of tact. I'm certain I told you not to do this."

With that, Je-heon walked straight past her and out.

A nuisance? Me?

Turning his words over, Yeon-jae found she could not move. That savage tone had driven itself deep into her heart, and the disgust in his eyes had not even been veiled.

The Je-heon she had known this past year had never been so pitiless.

She stood blinking, then belatedly looked around her—at the security staff, at the secretary, all of them watching. Had it been a mistake to come uninvited?

"I'll go first. Send her back yourselves."

Je-heon jerked his chin toward Yeon-jae as if she were a piece of luggage, then turned away with his secretary.

She reached out to catch him, but a bodyguard seized her arm, and her fingers closed on nothing. All she could do was watch him leave.

The hospital room door shut, and silence rushed in to take his place.

Only then did the bodyguards ease their hold. The moment her bound hands were freed, Yeon-jae caught at the bed rail.

"The CEO… when did he wake up?"

The men who had been about to turn their backs on her exchanged glances. It did not seem to be a question they were forbidden to answer; the head of security stepped forward.

"It's been a week."

"A week?"

She had thought it a matter of a few days. She had not imagined it had already been a week. Longer than she had expected—and yet, considering how deathlike his sleep had been, perhaps it was not so strange.

Unlike her own spare life, which held nothing but the piano and Je-heon, the man's world was a complicated one.

Still…

He could have sent a single message. Yeon-jae swallowed the words that had risen to her throat. In silence, she turned her phone over in her hands, half hoping a text might yet appear.

"Yes. Please leave. We need to vacate the room as well."

She was ushered weakly out into the corridor by the head of security.

Standing alone in the hospital hallway as people came and went, Yeon-jae stared at her phone screen. Ten minutes became thirty, then an hour. No message came. Only silence.

She had spent every one of those days with her heart in her mouth, sleepless. Whenever she pressed the keys, her hands shook so badly she could barely produce a proper note. Each day had been hell enough to wither her dry—and now, it seemed, they were not even on terms that allowed her to look at his face.

He had woken, and still she was expected to wait. Emotion surged up in her throat.

Her trembling hands folded over the flat of her stomach.

He might not welcome the call. She did not want to wait any longer.

After a long breath, she found Je-heon in her contacts and pressed call. The calm, even tone rang and rang. It rang until the automated missed-call message played. No one answered.

Even after sending it, she was so uneasy she sent another.

Clutching the phone tight, Yeon-jae started walking. Her feet struck the ground slowly at first, then little by little began to gather speed.

"You've arrived? Madam is in the dining room."

When Je-heon passed through the familiar garden and entered the main house, it was Min-yeong who came to greet him. He handed over his jacket, and she took it with the ease of long habit. He walked past her and on into the dining room.

The doors stood wide. At the center of the room sat a vast table. As he stepped inside, Min-yeong followed and hung his jacket on the stand along the wall.

Je-heon's gaze swept the room in a slow arc, then came to rest.

A figure sat at the far end of the reddish wooden table.

"You're here?"

Myeong-hee looked up as Je-heon drew back the chair across from her, her voice without rise or fall.

"Yes. There was traffic, so I'm a little late."

"Well. That happens. I heard you'd been discharged. Going straight on to Samseong-dong after dinner?"

"I should."

Samseong-dong was the apartment where Je-heon lived on his own. Myeong-hee accepted the spare answer without fuss and glanced at Min-yeong, who was still standing by. Min-yeong came forward and slid toward him the dishes of the side dishes he liked.

"This is enough. Please eat."

"Chief Ju, you can go."

Her duty done, Min-yeong left the dining room and closed the door behind her. A hush settled over the table. Myeong-hee looked around the quiet room, a satisfied smile touching her mouth.

"Let's eat. How long has it been since we sat down to a meal together?"

She had only just dipped a spoon into the soup when she stopped and looked at the son across from her.

"Son, Dr. Kim told me your prognosis was so poor we needed to prepare ourselves. I can't tell you how much it eased my heart when you woke."

"…………"

"No word from the detective yet? Detective Lee said he'd be in touch about the accident. Have a look at the CCTV and the compiled materials later."

"Yes."

Myeong-hee chattered on, laying out one thing after another, while Je-heon only listened. Whenever the feeling rose too high as she spoke, she pressed a hand to her chest. She had already lost her husband so meaninglessly, she said; she had thought she was losing him too. Je-heon watched her and felt nothing at all.

Then, as he continued to eat, his gaze slid to the side.

The phone he had set on the table seemed to flash with light—and a missed call registered on the screen. For the briefest instant, like a freeze-frame, Je-heon reached out and stopped. Then the sharp, ringing voice at his ear set him in motion again.

"Who calls someone who just got out of the hospital like that?"

"It's nothing."

He picked up the phone and turned it face down.

"Oh. I heard Jeong Yeon-jae went to see you."

The name, so out of place in Myeong-hee's mouth, made Je-heon lift his head.

"It makes my skin crawl, it really does. Chief Ju says it's been ten years of unrequited love. At that point it isn't love—it's obsession."

"……"

"Apparently she visited your room several times while you were unconscious. Don't get close to her. It will only drag you down. This is exactly why I should never have invited girls like that into the house. That was my mistake."

Myeong-hee went on, her face twisted with distaste.

"Focus on recovering, and don't let the engagement preparations slip. Thankfully her family has been considerate enough not to call it off."

Je-heon, who had been listening in silence, set down his utensils.

"Not sitting well?"

"No. I don't have an appetite."

He rose from his chair.

In the hushed bathroom, with the sound of water pouring endlessly, Je-heon's hands braced against the sink. His once-smooth brows twisted deeply as he pressed a hand to his forehead. Throughout the meal—no. Since facing Jeong Yeon-jae that afternoon, while he was still preparing to be discharged, the headache had not let up.

"Ha."

His mouth twisted, and a ragged breath scattered from it. Whenever the woman's tear-bright gaze rose in his mind, the headache only grew fiercer.

"Am I going insane."

"……"

"Or is something wrong with my head."

He looked down, and the phone he had set on the sink came into view. The call that had come during dinner jutted out before his eyes.

Je-heon picked it up and unlocked the screen. After a few taps, the missed-call list opened. Among the unsaved numbers, one unfamiliar name sat there. His brow furrowed deeply as he looked down at it.

A name that had no business being saved in his phone.

The memory of Jeong Yeon-jae in the hospital room that afternoon rose again, and the headache flared with it.