The Bitter Taste of a Contractual Marriage
Oh Jin-hee hated it. She knew better than anyone that she had been nothing but a mistress, that Hyun-seo’s heart still lay in the center of those old whispers. So she had wanted to drag a proper daughter-in-law into a proper house.
She had spoken right into his ear. If you aren’t a woman from a decent family, don’t even look at her. No more of these butterflies that jump straight into your arms with nothing but their bodies to offer.
But she had believed it. Hyun-seo, her brilliant, proud son, had still been swept away by a woman who possessed nothing but her body. Hyun-hee stared at the child in front of her for a long time, telling herself it would have been better not to see those eyes—because looking would make her cheeks sting.
“Go upstairs and look,” she said to Chairman Choi Pil-seung. “Come back down and we’ll leave together. I’ll stay here and watch my grandson for a while.”
“Fine. I’ll go up quickly and come right back.”
Jin-hee stood before the child, heart suddenly light. If the boy had taken after that woman—eyes too clear, smile too gentle—then affection would never have reached him. But the child was nothing like her. The resemblance to young Hyun-seo hit her like a quiet thunderclap.
That boy had been the only light that kept her life from going dark.
* * *
Chairman Choi Pil-seung entered through the door with a knock. Min Tae-yeon, still seated, had no idea what to do. She had never imagined the day she would face the chairman with this face.
“Good morning, Chairman.”
She bowed neatly and offered the greeting. Chairman Choi’s deep voice rolled out.
“Chairman? Now it’s Father. You’ve already fathered a grandson and still want to be called chairman?”
His words held warmth, but his tone and gaze were ice. Tae-yeon felt the distance like a blade. He was an impossible man.
“Yes, Father.”
“There. Hearing that sounds better. I saw the boy. Yun-woo.”
“Yes. I’ll file the birth report tomorrow.”
“I see. Then the marriage report?”
“We’ll do it together tomorrow.”
Watching Hyun-seo speak of the marriage report to the chairman, Tae-yeon swallowed hard, voice steady. He had never said a single word to her about it. She had thought vaguely after the contract was signed, but everything—every concrete detail—had been swallowed by Hyun-seo’s plans.
Tomorrow I become his wife. Tomorrow I become the mother of that boy.
Tae-yeon felt the weight of the contract settle heavy in her chest. She lowered her head. Chairman Choi’s voice cut through the silence.
“The child is quite handsome. Good work. He came a little earlier than scheduled?”
“Yes. He’s a bit smaller than expected. Under three kilos. The doctor says he doesn’t need to stay in the incubator and is perfectly healthy.”
“I see. It’s always better to give birth small and raise them big. The doctor told me even if he was small there’s no problem.”
“Yes.”
“You look just like him.”
Chairman Choi’s satisfied smile made Tae-yeon bite her lip hard. She was glad Yun-woo resembled Hyun-seo. Since the birth, Yun-woo had crowded out every thought of that woman.
That woman—eyes so big and clear, smile so kind.
She had thought she would never forget her. Yet since Yun-woo arrived, she had not thought of her at all. Forgetting would be kinder.
“When is discharge?”
“Tomorrow.”
“So soon?”
“Yes. No complications, so the same as other mothers—two days and home.”
“I see.”
“I’ll handle care at home. Please send Icheon-daek.”
“Understood.”
Without another word, Chairman Choi glanced at her once more, nodded, and said,
“Take good care of yourself.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“Good.”
After the chairman left, Tae-yeon let out a long breath. Her body felt melted and frozen at once. Hyun-seo returned from seeing him off and looked at her half-dazed face.
“You’re not very good at acting, are you, Min Manager?”
“I’m sorry. I’m not trained for this.”
A strange look crossed his eyes for a moment.
“You’ve got acting talent. Just focus on the situation and don’t confuse your role. You’ll be fine. It’s not bad, but you need to try harder.”
It felt like he was reviewing a project presentation. Tae-yeon met his gaze and asked the question she had been holding.
“We’re doing the marriage report tomorrow?”
“Safer to do it quickly. I figured you’d realize that since the birth report and marriage report are filed together.”
“Yes.”
One-sided notice. She had known it would come the moment she signed the contract, yet her heart still stung. Hyun-seo was shaking the very foundation of her life. She had given him the rights. She could feel the difficulty of earning money in every bone.
“When you’re discharged, Icheon-daek will look after Yun-woo. Don’t worry too much.”
“Yes.”
“Icheon-daek has worked at the main house since I was a child. She’s an excellent cook and took care of me. She’ll be good with the child.”
“I understand. When I need her… may I call?”
“Of course. There probably won’t be any need for private calls.”
It sounded like “don’t call me for anything personal.”
“Yes, CEO. I’ll do that. But what if an emergency comes up?”
“Usually you’d handle it with people nearby. For anything Yun-woo-related, Icheon-daek will be there. For anything else, there’s the chief secretary. If something is truly urgent, let me know then.”
It might have been better to say no thank you.
* * *
The next day she saw him at the newborn visiting hour, standing in front of the newborn ward. She had gone down to see the baby when Hyun-seo was already there. The look in his eyes when he gazed at the child was heartbreaking. It reminded her of the same look he had worn when watching that dying woman.
What was he thinking as he looked at the child?
The child left behind by the woman he loved as she died. Did she suffer?
He was dying to know. Every time she thought of that woman’s fate, fear prickled through Tae-yeon.
Should she pray that the child’s birth mother lives or dies?
Pull yourself together. This thought of yours is irrelevant and can change nothing. You didn’t ask for this. You’re not here because you wanted Hyun-seo’s woman to die. This is just a job. You changed companies.
Yet the fear lingered—that inside her heart, she still prayed that woman die.
Tae-yeon walked over to the man standing in front of the newborn ward and bowed her head.
“Hello.”
She had not called him “CEO” on purpose, but he turned his head, met her eyes, and spoke softly.
“It’s a bit awkward greeting a husband with ‘morning’ like this, isn’t it?”
“I’ll adjust.”
“That sounds just as strange to me.”
Tae-yeon had nothing left to say. She bit her lip and turned her gaze to the baby. Yun-woo looked even more beautiful than yesterday. The flush on his cheeks had faded to a soft white, features sharpened and clear. The thick eyebrows—exactly like Hyun-seo’s—stood out even more.
“Your father is so gentle,” the nurse said. “Coming every morning and evening to see the baby.”
Tae-yeon smiled faintly. She had not visited the room the night before, yet he had still come to see the baby in the evening. Of course. There was no reason for him to visit her.
I exist only for Yun-woo. I was hired to prove to the world that he has a proper mother. Why did it still hurt so much?
“You’ll be discharged today. The nurse will explain the details later.”
“Yes.”
Hyun-seo, listening quietly, turned to her.
“Take good care at home. I’ll see you there.”
“Yes.”
He offered a quick greeting and left for work. Tae-yeon watched him disappear into the elevator.
Stop being so handsome it makes my heart race. What on earth is this? Am I doing something wrong? At least the hospital bills won’t be a problem.
The only escape from these complicated feelings was to convince herself that the only thing that mattered was making sure the hospital bills were covered.
The first time she entered Hyun-seo’s house after discharge was nothing like she expected. She had assumed an apartment. She had never imagined he lived alone in a detached house. This was the first time she had seen a home as grand as this one since she was born.
Tae-yeon opened the door and climbed the marble staircase, mind spinning.
Does Hyun-seo really not remember me at all?
She remembered every inch of that body—those broad shoulders, the hard chest, the abs so tightly bound. Every corner of him had expanded inside her. The scorching tremor she had felt when their bodies had fused together still made her lower body slick every time she recalled it.
He would grip the back of her neck with one hand and use the other to caress every part of her as if he knew them by heart. The lips that had suckled her breasts had burned. The images burned into her eyelids never left her, tormenting her endlessly.