Chapter 1. Notice of Divorce
The golden sky turned black — a sign that rainclouds were rolling in.
“Hurry up, Mommy!”
Sae-jin waved his chubby little hands impatiently, and Yoo-a nodded at him.
It was moving day — from her father’s strict and spotless home to a house built on barren land visible from the old family estate. Sae-jin was giddy with excitement.
Living under the watchful eye of his meticulous grandfather, where even a single breadcrumb was an offense, had been a harsh life for a child.
“Don’t run, Sae-jin. You’ll—…”
Yoo-a’s words trailed off reflexively as she watched Sae-jin hopping around.
The boy had chronic bronchitis, and her words came from habit — a habitual concern.
Now that they were moving out, maybe it was time to ease up on the constant “don’ts.”
Just seeing the smile blooming on his face made Yoo-a feel that defying her father and sister-in-law had been the right choice.
“You really got the jujube tree.”
A large jujube tree, nearly the size of an adult’s torso, caught her eye.
Its lush leaves stretched wide like a guardian to the home, and it made her feel reassured just looking at it.
“Dr. Yoon said tea brewed from a tree over a hundred years old could help Sae-jin’s respiratory issues… So please, take good care of us.”
Wrapping her arms around the tree and brushing her cheek against it, Yoo-a whispered to herself: now, things would finally start to get better.
She would do anything for Sae-jin, whose wheezing breath always pained her.
Even a half-uttered suggestion from Dr. Yoon was enough to send her scrambling.
Sae-jin was her everything — her reason for enduring.
But in this hope for a fresh start, one person was not included: her husband and Sae-jin’s father — Kang I-jun.
“Anyone watching would think you’re having an affair with some new guy.”
I-jun stepped out of the house in a flawless suit, barking an order to set up the air purifier in Sae-jin’s room.
He had just come from checking out the interior, but Yoo-a was still by the jujube tree, unwilling to step inside.
“It’s not like that,” she said quietly, pressing her lips together.
They hadn’t even bothered to argue anymore. They’d passed that point long ago.
She sighed, resigned, and still managed to offer a polite word.
“It must’ve been hard to get. Thank you.”
She had heard from his secretary that the tree was sourced from a remote ancestral hilltop — the last of its kind — so she figured he deserved at least that much credit.
He shrugged indifferently.
“Sae-jin’s my son. I would’ve found it no matter what, even if you hadn’t asked.”
“Right, of course.”
Because that’s who you are.
Yoo-a swallowed the rest of her thoughts with difficulty — they stuck in her throat like a stone.
Kang I-jun was a predator at the top of the food chain — he always got what he wanted, no matter the cost.
“Why didn’t you ask me directly? Why go through Secretary Kim?”
“You’re always busy.”
“This is a family matter. Don’t I deserve to know first? Hearing it secondhand pisses me off.”
His brows furrowed, clearly irritated that he’d only heard about the jujube tree through his secretary.
Avoiding his gaze, Yoo-a muttered something about checking on Sae-jin and turned to leave.
The longer she stayed near I-jun, the more suffocated she felt. His sharp eyes pierced right through her, and his words — always so cold and cutting — stabbed at her heart.
Around him, she always felt like prey.
“I’m not done talking.”
He grabbed her slender wrist with his large hand.
His sharp gaze flashed — he wouldn’t let her walk away.
“Go ahead,” she said quietly, lowering her head in resignation.
Unimpressed with her submissive posture, he let out a slow breath between clenched teeth.
“You’re always like this.”
The words, barely audible, were swept away by the wind before they fully reached her ears.
When she looked up, he’d already dropped her wrist, his expression void of emotion.
“Stop acting so pathetic, Yoon Yoo-a.”
He stopped short of saying, You already look pitiful enough without trying.
Did he still resent her for what happened back then?
When she was pregnant with Sae-jin, she’d gone to prenatal visits and prepared the nursery by herself — trying not to burden I-jun.
But he had seen that as disrespect — as if she’d excluded him. That resentment had festered ever since.
Yoo-a lowered her gaze, hiding the sting in her eyes.
I-jun’s cold, calculated words never became easier to bear.
A relationship of physicality, void of warmth.
But Yoo-a still clung to it — because in his ink-black eyes, she could see herself, and in his embrace, she could feel something close to comfort.
So even though the end was coming, she continued to hold him.
It was all she could do.
Because even if she had to let him go, she still loved him.
The ash-eyed beast climbed over her.
“Haah… ngh…”
He pressed rougher than usual, like he was punishing her, and Yoo-a curled her toes at the sudden intensity.
As if trying to bite her neck, he ran his scratchy tongue along her skin — a stimulation that felt almost hostile.
His eyes, clouded with heat, glowed even in the dark.
“W-wait… I-jun…”
His black, obsidian eyes burned with greed.
Perhaps moved by her plea, he took her delicate wrist, kissed her palm gently.
“You always said you wanted out of the main house. I gave you that — don’t you think you owe me? I’m like a dog in heat, only looking at you.”
“Ahh—!”
Worried her cries might be heard outside — though they likely wouldn’t — Yoo-a clasped both hands over her mouth.
Did he lock the door?
She couldn’t stop glancing at the doorknob behind his shoulder.
That must’ve annoyed him. With a growl, he lifted his hips.
“So calm, aren’t you, Yoon Yoo-a?”
“Ah…”
In an instant, she was flipped — her back on the mattress, face turned to the ceiling.
When she tried to crawl backward toward the headboard, his large hand snatched her ankle.
Without time to think, she felt his sharp jaw pressing her nape as he whispered in her ear.
“What’s wrong? Can’t focus because I’m not enough for you?”
“N-no…”
Her fair nape flushed bright red. His eyes looking down at her were… complicated.
She couldn’t see his expression, but she froze.
Show even a crack, and he’d sink his teeth in. It would only take a second.
“I never know what to do with you, Yoon Yoo-a.”
She bit her lower lip. It split, sore and red without even lipstick.
Me neither.
She swallowed the words she couldn’t say aloud, gripping the bedsheets tight.
Then, I-jun’s body stopped its motion.
Without any intention of sharing post-intimacy warmth, he got up and headed to the bathroom to erase every trace of himself.
Not even a breath or touch left behind.
“I told the personal shopper to call you. Go to the department store tomorrow, get your mind off things.”
He was a man who replaced words with money. Praise was rare, affection even more so.
Still, Yoo-a had endured her marriage to I-jun for one reason: their son, Sae-jin.
“If you really want to cheer me up, there’s a faster, simpler way.”
“Nothing’s faster or simpler than money.”
“How long are you going to ignore this? Moving to a new house doesn’t fix our problems.”
“What problems? We don’t have any. Now or ever.”
“I-jun!”
He brushed past her into the bathroom, impenetrable and cold as ever.
Yoo-a sat at the head of the bed, wrapping her arms around herself as the sound of water roared behind him.
She couldn’t back down anymore.
It had been three months since he started dodging every attempt at real conversation.
Today, she needed an answer — a definite end.
They were supposed to divorce after two years. That promise had disappeared the moment Sae-jin was born.
But the truth hadn’t changed — they were never meant to be. Divorce was inevitable.
“Not bad.”
His obsidian eyes looked her over from head to toe through damp strands of hair.
“New house, new start. Seems a little too perfect, don’t you think, Yoo-a?”
Drops of water clung to his muscular chest, clearly visible through the open black robe.
Avoiding him, Yoo-a moved to sit across the room.
“I’m never divorcing you. Ask for something else. Anything.”
Crossing his legs, he tapped his foot — treating her like a child throwing a tantrum for something she couldn’t have.
Not realizing how humiliating and miserable that made her feel.
“There’s only one thing I want from you.”
He clicked his tongue and sighed deeply, licking his dry lips.
Yoo-a forced herself to meet his gaze, weighed down by the heavy burden pressing on her shoulders.
She was determined not to back down — not this time.
“Let me live with Sae-jin. Far away. I’ll prepare for the divorce quietly, carefully, so it doesn’t affect you.
You won’t suffer any consequences. After all… our relationship was only physical.”
Because you never loved me.
