Chapter 35: Five Years of Silence

“It’s you I’m worried about, Seohee.”

Seohee froze at the words that it wasn’t the baby.

“You heard clearly yourself that there’s nothing wrong with the baby.”

The baby wasn’t the issue.

At Leehyun’s clear declaration that everything he said was out of concern for her, Seohee drew in a sharp breath.

The hands resting on her waist fell away limply.

Seohee met Leehyun’s gaze with a complex expression.

In order to persuade Seohee, who refused to take anything out of concern for the baby despite having such severe morning sickness, Leehyun had made her undergo an examination at ten weeks, even though it was not yet time for the regular twelve-week checkup.

Even then, when Seohee still hesitated, Leehyun had fiercely pressured Jiyeon to perform the NIPT test right away—a screening originally scheduled for the twelve-week regular checkup.

Although the test was technically possible at ten weeks for a singleton pregnancy, Jiyeon had firmly drawn the line, stating there was no need for it.

At the question of whether it was acceptable to subject the mother to repeated blood draws two or three times, Leehyun had no choice but to take a step back.

‘I thought he was on edge fearing there was something wrong with the baby.’

Her strength drained away completely.

The fiery defiance that had flared within her popped and vanished like a bursting bubble.

Her hurt feelings quickly faded without a trace.

While warmth filled her chest at the realization that he was worried about her, a seed of doubt sprouted—was he being too indifferent toward the child?

Knowing full well that Leehyun looked after everything regarding the baby with meticulous care, she shook her head at her own foolish thoughts.

‘I’m not a child, so what am I doing?’

In the end, wasn’t she just complaining no matter what he did?

It was self-centered and downright childish.

Unable to face Leehyun in this state of mind, she turned her body away, but he immediately followed.

On top of that, he caught her wrist.

Fearing he might hurt her, Leehyun didn’t pull her all at once, tugging gently in two measured motions.

“Seohee.”

‘I really don’t know anymore.’

Seohee shut her eyes tightly.

She was still not free from any of her circumstances.

The violin case, the password, the lost memories, and even the baby she worried over.

Confusion weighed heavily upon her.

Leehyun turned her around and embraced her gently.

Once enclosed against his warm, solid chest, her sharp, edgy feelings softened.

“About the violin case.”

Seohee mumbled, nestled within Leehyun’s embrace.

“The violin… case?”

“Yes. It’s clearly mine, but……”

“And?”

What was the issue with that?

Leehyun responded casually.

At the same time, he patted Seohee’s back.

Seeing her softened reaction, he felt relieved.

“I can’t open it.”

What did she mean by that?

As Leehyun let out a long breath at this unexpected turn, Seohee slowly lifted her face.

“I can’t remember the password.”

Seohee let out a deep, frustrated sigh.

Leehyun’s hand, which had been stroking her back, halted.

“……”

Looking up to meet Leehyun’s eyes, her red lips parted.

“By any chance, do you know that password?”

Seohee blinked her eyelids as if searching for hope.

Her brown eyes met Leehyun’s.

‘The password?’

The hand stroking her back fell away powerlessly.

His pulse throbbed heavily, and his heart raced erratically.

Just when he thought he had managed to talk Seohee out of going to the art gallery, how was he supposed to answer this sudden question?

In the midst of this, Seohee’s face, holding only his reflection, was so lovely he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

His mind went completely blank.

Leehyun swallowed hard, wondering if devouring those red lips would allow him to escape this entire situation.

“We’re married, so you know it, right?”

He had to know.

Seohee tortured Leehyun with that hope.

What should he say?

His brow furrowed deeper in agonizing thought.

The hand caressing Seohee’s shoulder was as heavy as the depth of his dilemma.

Should he offer polite platitudes that even married couples must respect each other’s privacy, or make a confession that he hadn’t known such details?

His mouth went bone-dry.

His tongue felt paralyzed and wouldn’t move.

One thing was certain.

That he must, at all costs, swallow the truth that they had led a marriage in name only, never sharing personal details before her memory loss.

Just as Leehyun clenched his fist and opened his mouth, Seohee spoke, unable to wait any longer.

“……You don’t know either.”

At her resigned tone, which sounded as if she had expected this, Leehyun’s lips sealed shut again.

He had to deny it.

Should he just blurt out random numbers instead?

While he repeatedly clenched and unclenched his blameless fist, Seohee pushed against Leehyun’s chest with both hands.

“……Honey.”

“You haven’t been able to answer a single thing I asked. You know that, right?”

“That is—”

“You should have just said you knew. You should have opened the violin case in front of me.”

If he had, she wouldn’t feel quite so suffocated.

Seohee lowered her eyelids.

‘What kind of married couple is like this?’

The memories erased in their entirety, the sudden moments that reminded her of reality, and above all, the recurring anxiety about the relationship between Leehyun and herself.

All those emotions gradually encroached upon Seohee’s body.

The depth of the casually tossed question became unfathomable.

The more she spoke, the more it felt as though someone were gently scratching at her innermost thoughts.

“Seohee. I’ll open it for you. Somehow, I—”

Leehyun held Seohee’s hand tightly, speaking in haste.

At that, Seohee shook her head weakly.

Because opening the case was not the purpose of this conversation.

“I looked at the exhibition catalogs.”

Her words broke off in fragments as if she were biting down on them, but Leehyun did not rush her.

When his grip on Seohee tightened, he caught himself and loosened his hold.

‘Catalogs? Does she mean the kind you see at an art gallery?’

His black pupils shook wildly, as if terrified of what might spill from her lips.

“……I’m listening.”

“……As I flipped through the more recent catalogs, the artists and the titles of the artworks started popping into my head.”

Seohee shook her head as if lingering afterimages were floating before her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Leehyun asked quietly, as if truly failing to understand.

“Paintings I’ve never even seen before. Things definitely not in my memory. Yet just looking at them, the titles of the pieces come to mind as if they were waiting for me.”

Even as she spoke, Seohee squeezed her eyes shut in disbelief.

Her hands had trembled while looking through the catalogs Aram brought.

Paintings she had never laid eyes on in her life felt beyond familiar; not only the titles but even the artists’ names flowed effortlessly from her lips.

Even after shutting the catalog in the face of such an absurd situation, the trembling in her body had not subsided.

“It’s fine. Even at the hospital, they—”

They said it was a natural phenomenon.

That since embodied memory remained, it was entirely possible.

Leehyun tried to explain that point once more, but Seohee gave him no opening.

“It’s suffocating. I’m anxious. What kind of work did I do, and how might what I’ve done affect you? Whenever I think about things like that, I can’t even breathe.”

Seohee’s words tumbled on.

Her breathing grew ragged along with them, heavy with intense emotion.

This was it.

The root of the heavy emotion that had seized her and refused to let go all this time.

‘What if what I’ve done causes him harm?’

That was why she couldn’t turn away.

She had to know.

No matter what it was.

Seohee pursed her lips tightly.

“Even knowing this, I still can’t?”

Faced with her passionate reaction, Leehyun could not easily open his mouth.

Like a person being choked.

Hesitating as if confronted with an unimaginable dilemma, he gently brushed her tear-stained brown eyes.

Holding Seohee’s hand tightly with one hand, Leehyun brushed back her stray hairs with the other and spoke.

“……No.”

The answer that came after a long pause was ultimately the same.

Stating that despite everything, he could not allow it.

As Seohee twisted her held hand and turned away, Leehyun hurriedly stepped in front of her.

“Look at your physical condition.”

A repetition of the same words.

At the implication that her body was the problem after all, Seohee bit her lip.

“You said I could do anything. You said you would do whatever I wanted.”

“Yes.”

At his delayed reply, Seohee met Leehyun’s eyes.

Seeing the concern wavering in his black pupils, her agitated feelings settled slightly.

“Liar.”

That did not mean she had given up completely.

Even as she saw Leehyun’s eyebrows arch at her slightly resentful tone, Seohee could not stop.

At this point, she even began to wonder why she had to seek his permission just to go out.

“Before I lost my memory, did I have to get your permission like this too? Every single time?”

At her offhand remark, Leehyun’s Adam’s apple bobbed heavily.

There was no way she had sought his permission.

Before Seohee lost her memory, such bickering had never once occurred between them in the first place.

He had had no intention of interfering in Seohee’s actions, and she had avoided anything that might get on his nerves.

“You did get permission.”

For every single thing.

From beginning to end.

The shameless lie flowed smoothly without a pause.

Leehyun looked straight at Seohee without so much as a twitch of his eyebrow and spoke.

Only the first time was hard; would the second be any more difficult?

At the words that had slipped from his mouth before he even had time to think, he swallowed a self-mocking laugh behind his tongue.

Right.

This was where it had gone wrong from the start.

Leehyun finally realized the massive flaw that had existed between the two of them.

That in the five years they had lived together, skin against skin, there had never been a single minor argument, nor any thought of meddling in or nagging about each other’s lives.

In short, it was a relationship where consultation or mutual agreement never took place at all.

‘In the first place, such things weren’t necessary.’

Because Seohee had accommodated him completely every single time.

Leehyun had never once tried to understand her wishes.

At the realization that struck him late, he was struck dumb in a daze.

‘How on earth did I treat you?’

Struggling to ignore the chilling coldness inside him, Leehyun caressed Seohee’s cheek.

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