Chapter 10: My Ex-Husband’s Proposal
“It’s not like that. That kind of thing.”
Even after carrying an adult up the stairs, Lee Jun looked completely fine.
It was Yooa who was out of breath instead.
His steady gaze made her thirsty. Seeing Yooa lick her dry lips, Lee Jun twisted the corners of his mouth.
“If it’s not true, then we just make it true.”
His seductive, lowered gaze was cold.
He looked down at her with a flawless face, behaving like someone who’d never been rejected.
And maybe that was true.
For a businessman, a well-groomed appearance, a quality suit, and a captivating stare were all assets.
“Marry me, Yoon Yooa. I’ll make sure you lack for nothing—whatever it is.”
“Don’t say ridiculous things.”
“Why not? Got someone else?”
It had only been two years—he sneered like that was more than a fair trade.
To Kang Lee Jun, marriage was just business.
It pleased the chairman and raised the value of the group—a win-win.
There was no reason not to do it.
But Yooa had every reason not to.
“It’s not even worth answering.”
Yooa frowned at her ex-husband’s second proposal.
A marriage without love or emotion. She remembered exactly how that had ended, and she had no intention of going through it again.
“You’re not going to say something outdated like, ‘Marriage should be between people who love each other to death,’ are you?”
He brought up what Yooa had said back when she was a pure, innocent twenty-year-old sitting in a garden.
With her face flushed red, Yooa slapped away the arm that had her pinned between the wall and him, then bit her lower lip in frustration.
“I never thought you’d understand anyway. I’m not even suited to be the wife of Taegyeom Group’s heir. I have no such ambition.”
“……”
“So, please, don’t even bring up marriage. It’s not great for either of us to keep rejecting and being rejected.”
“I must be twisted, because I enjoy being rejected. Makes me curious how far you’ll go with it.”
“How unfortunate. I’ve got a prejudice—I have no intention of marrying someone with a bad personality like you. I prefer kind men.”
Lee Jun would never understand.
Yooa had no illusions that people born and raised in entirely different worlds could somehow close that gap just by being in the same space.
There were too many things to overcome.
“Kind men?”
From the sharp-tongued aunt who always pointed out Yooa’s flaws to the sneers and scorn at chaebol parties—
Even her child Sejin wasn’t spared from the contempt.
She was sick of all of it and didn’t have the strength to go through it again.
“Looks like nothing’s changed between when you were twenty and now, twenty-four.”
“…What?”
“You say I’d never understand? You’re the one with the prejudice, Yooa. You.”
“Executive Director…”
“You haven’t even tried. ‘Never,’ ‘how dare,’ ‘absolutely’—those aren’t words you should say so easily. You might regret it. Who knows? You might end up begging me to marry you.”
As he looked at her stubbornly clenched lips, Lee Jun let out a cold smile.
She was sure that day would never come, but the icy glint in his eyes froze her in place.
He tucked her loose hair behind her ear and asked again, in a voice that sounded almost tender:
“When that day comes… how are you going to look me in the eye?”
Her life-saver said he was hungry.
Just then, Yooa’s own stomach growled loudly as her rain-drenched body began to dry.
Like a child done playing in the water and looking for a warm meal, Lee Jun ordered soup and a ciabatta sandwich.
“I’ll brew the coffee here.”
Even as he casually fetched a bottle of water from the fridge to put into the capsule coffee machine, his movements were overly elegant.
Despite ordering her around at will, his noble, courteous demeanor made Yooa conflicted—was she supposed to be angry or not?
She went downstairs to heat up the soup made by the Cheonan housekeeper the day before.
Knowing Lee Jun disliked heavy meals, the housekeeper would prepare green cream soup made of mushrooms and organic broccoli or a chilled tomato soup.
“Still the same tastes.”
She sliced a ciabatta in half, spread basil pesto on one side, and layered thick buffalo cheese and tomato.
She added salad greens, drizzled olive oil and pepper—when a sharp voice pierced the darkness.
“Aren’t the servants’ kitchens in the annex? What are you doing here?”
It was Lee Jun’s aunt, Kang Joohee, in tight white golf clothes and a cap.
Yooa had forgotten—on days Joohee took the chairman golfing, she’d stop by the kitchen to pick up a juice prepared by the housekeeper.
“Don’t you even know how to greet properly? When you see an elder, you say hello first. Your dad spoiled you, treating the staff like family. No manners.”
“Hello, Director.”
“Forget it. If you’re going to force it, I’d rather not hear it.”
Whether Yooa called her “director” before marriage or “aunt” after, Joohee’s condescension never changed.
“What are you doing here at this hour? Trying to steal something?”
“Executive Director just wanted a light meal.”
Knowing there were talks of marriage between the two, Joohee eyed Yooa with crossed arms.
From head to toe, she scrutinized her, but aside from a pretty face, nothing appealed to her.
“This is why you don’t let young people into the annex. I told him to send you away, but he never listens.”
Tsk tsk—the clicking of her tongue echoed loudly in Yooa’s ears.
“You’ve been sneaking around men’s rooms since forever. That’s how our Lee Jun got fooled.”
Claiming to mother the orphaned Lee Jun, Joohee often visited the main house—while plotting to steal management rights behind his back.
Yooa remembered that clearly. Her mouth felt bitter.
“I’ll be careful, Director.”
Satisfied with the answer, Joohee set down her cooler bag with a thud.
“What are you doing? Pack it up.”
Yooa stopped and put the vegetable and fruit juices into the bag, zipped it tightly—but Joohee still didn’t leave.
Uneasy, Yooa looked up.
“A sandwich? Make a few more. Meat at the clubhouse is too heavy in the morning.”
“…Yes, ma’am.”
She could make a few more sandwiches.
But having Joohee stand right next to her, nitpicking even the way she sliced tomatoes, was unbearable.
It made Yooa more convinced that she needed to get a new, durable tent and move out.
“That’s enough.”
Joohee took the sandwiches and turned to leave, but paused and looked back with that same beautiful face that reminded Yooa of Lee Jun.
“Don’t repay kindness with betrayal.”
Yooa’s appetite vanished. She carried the halved sandwich and soup on a wooden tray back upstairs.
Lee Jun, already on his second cup of coffee, looked at her and grumbled.
“I thought you baked the ciabatta yourself.”
“….”
“Did you eat on the way up? Why’s there so little?”
There were only two sandwiches, their melted cheese oozing from the sides.
Looking at the diagonal cut, clearly once a whole, Lee Jun raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not hungry. You eat, Executive Director.”
She bowed her head and said she’d leave before morning. She asked one last thing:
“Oh, can you send me a new tent? It was a natural disaster after all. You were on-site yourself. You’ll cover it under warranty, right?”
As she turned to leave, Lee Jun suddenly grabbed her wrist.
The coffee he’d set down in sync with her approaching footsteps hadn’t even cooled yet.
“What now?”
He looked up at her awkwardly standing figure.
“Feed me.”
“Your hands work fine. Weren’t you only hurt on your forehead and neck?”
“No.”
When their eyes met, he groaned with a frown, clearly playing it up.
Seeing her suspicious gaze, he trembled his fingers and moaned.
“My hands… are starting to hurt too…”
She fed him the soup, then handed him the wrapped ciabatta sandwich.
As he cheekily accepted every bite, Yooa was reminded of Sejin—who acted just like him.
“Ah!”
When she spaced out, Lee Jun bit her finger hard and then wiped the sauce off his mouth with his thumb, smirking.
“Are you thinking about another guy right in front of me?”
Another guy… yeah, technically.
Could I ever see my Sejin again? If I stayed with this man?
A clear bite mark was left on her finger like a tattoo.
