Chapter 11
Even after arriving home, Seorin had to take several deep breaths before finally stepping through the front door.
With no inner door, the living room was visible at a glance.
It was exactly as she had expected.
A scene so appalling it would make any outsider want to turn and run.
Every step she took after removing her shoes landed on trash.
Perhaps this was the natural consequence of four days of neglect.
Seorin bent down and picked up a soju bottle from under the field of clutter.
What passed as the kitchen reeked with a foul stench.
It was a good thing she had come.
Dropping by while Jiheon was at work turned out to be the right decision.
Seorin moved into the kitchen, cleared away the piles of trash, and cleaned the dishes in the sink.
Even after she had tidied up a bit, there was no sign of Hyeonhee.
She glanced toward Hyeonhee’s room but then opened the door to her own.
Her eyes and mouth opened wide in shock.
“Oh…”
She couldn’t close her mouth, stunned at how completely the room had changed since she last left it.
The only thing untouched was the blanket on the small bed.
Everything else—items on the desk and clothes from the wardrobe—was scattered on the floor, a complete mess.
It seemed Hyeonhee had taken out her frustration on Seorin’s belongings in her absence.
She picked up her fallen laptop and opened the cover.
Thankfully, it powered on.
A sigh of relief escaped her lips.
“You’re here?”
A voice came from the doorway—her mother, who had apparently been standing there for some time.
“You’re really hard to see these days.”
“Mom…”
“I guess you hate coming back to this dump now. Living in that nice house must’ve changed your whole aura already.”
Her mother’s sarcasm flowed endlessly, as if Seorin had stolen her happiness.
“I always knew raising someone like you would be a thankless sacrifice, but still, it’s not easy to accept.”
“…”
“You’re always the one who drives me to the edge.”
Her mother would never understand.
How difficult it had been for her to muster the courage to even register the marriage.
She seemed more focused on blaming Seorin for not being able to freely approach the man she still had feelings for.
Drunken words, slightly slurred, continued to lash out at her like rapid-fire bullets.
“How did you seduce him? With that pretty face I passed on to you?”
She could never forget the look in Seong Lilho’s eyes when he first found out about her.
And the way he looked at her mother during dinner—so full of longing.
“And it’s amazing that family even accepted you.”
Because Seong Lilho would never accept her as a daughter-in-law—not while he still held on to a love that never came to fruition.
Even though she could read his heart, her mother still didn’t seem to realize that Joomi was trying to push her out of Lilho’s life.
Her mother had once been beautiful, basking in the spotlight and adored by men.
If she hadn’t met Dad and had Seorin, maybe she could have lived a life just as glamorous as Joomi’s.
Perhaps that’s why she couldn’t face reality.
Even if they hadn’t spoken face to face in years, they’d shared plenty of phone calls.
Still, her mother was furious, seething with rage at the daughter who had become an obstacle to getting back with Seong Lilho.
It was no surprise. Her mother’s plan had never included Seorin marrying Lilho’s son.
“Yes. You’re right.”
“What is?”
“Blood doesn’t lie. Of course my husband fell for me at first sight—I’m your daughter, after all.”
“You!”
“So I’m going to live well—enough for both of us. So please, Mom, go live your life happily now, doing the acting you love.”
Hyeonhee scoffed.
“Acting?”
“Yes. As an actress. Don’t worry about supporting me—just focus on doing the roles you want.”
“Don’t talk like you got married just to make me act again.”
But that was the truth.
She wanted her mother to live the life she always dreamed of—acting—without having to rely on Seong Lilho.
Her mother would never know that, nor did Seorin want her to.
She didn’t want to claim credit.
Her mother had always resented her, so if she could just do what she loved now, Seorin could endure an unwanted marriage.
“You got a call from the agency, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
Her mother didn’t even look grateful.
Despite not expecting much, the cold, sharp gaze she threw at her daughter made Seorin sigh deeply.
“Now that I’ve seen you, I’ll just grab a few things and go.”
Seorin found her large bag and placed the laptop inside.
Hyeonhee suddenly grabbed her wrist tightly.
“I’m not finished talking.”
What more was there to say?
Was the agency not good enough for her after meeting Seong Lilho?
Seorin felt her mother’s grip tighten uncomfortably.
She tried to pull away, but Hyeonhee held on with a rough force.
“They told me to come sign the contract. But they didn’t give me a script.”
“The role probably hasn’t been—”
“No. They said the role doesn’t even have a script. What do you think that means?”
Joomi had said she’d connect her to an agency, but she hadn’t promised a specific role.
Seorin didn’t know enough about that world to have managed the details.
More than anything, she just wanted to stop her mother from seeing Lilho again.
“You mean it’s a minor role?”
“Your cheap sympathy just makes me feel worse.”
“…”
“My comeback is as a role with no lines at all.”
She didn’t feel guilty.
But she did feel disappointed in Joomi.
There was no one to complain to.
“Do you finally realize what you’ve done?”
Her mother’s nails dug into Seorin’s wrist.
It hurt, but she said nothing.
The words I’m sorry didn’t even come to mind.
“What now? How are you going to take responsibility?”
“There’s always the next project. You can land a better role.”
“How? With what talent? Are you going to dance like a fool in front of a camera that barely even shows your face?”
Isn’t that better?
Better than begging your old flame and ruining a family in the process.
She bit her tongue and swallowed her words.
Fighting was pointless. Her mother always won. That was the only way things stayed calm.
“Get divorced. Right now.”
“If I do…”
It sounded like her mother was ready to jump into an affair.
She didn’t want to say it out loud.
Seorin wanted to scream.
How long would her mother continue playing the victim, making her father look so pitiful?
Her disappointment was indescribable.
Her mother didn’t care one bit about how she felt.
“You want me to call my husband my brother?”
“No.”
Seorin looked directly at her, not blinking.
“I never planned to take you with me.”
Then maybe she should get divorced.
If she told Joomi and Seong Jiheon the truth, maybe they’d agree to it quickly.
“You’re your father’s daughter. You’ll live that way until the day you die.”
“…”
“You’re grown now. It’d be awkward to bring you into another family, wouldn’t it?”
“Mom!”
She wasn’t even sure if this was really her mother.
Even without the bond of birth or the bond of raising her, time spent living together should’ve created some form of affection. But she had never once felt it.
“I’m not getting divorced.”
“You will.”
“No.”
Hyeonhee grabbed the bag with her free hand.
She yanked it away and dragged Seorin toward the door.
She stepped into her slippers and walked out of the house.
Seorin didn’t even have time to put on her shoes.
She called after her mother, who was already descending in the elevator.
“Mom!”
No reply.
“Mom, what are you doing?”
Hyeonhee exited the elevator and headed outside.
She flung the bag far away and finally released Seorin’s wrist.
“I told you. You brought this on yourself.”
Seorin retrieved her bag and checked her laptop inside.
It was more damaged than before.
“What, your precious husband won’t buy you a new one? Go beg him, why don’t you?”
“…”
“That’s why you married into that family, right? Just to make my blood boil. It makes me sick that someone like you was ever my daughter.”
Maybe Jiheon was right—she shouldn’t have come.
Maybe her mother was right—it would’ve been easier to just ask him to buy her one.
She let out a hollow laugh.
The few passing residents glanced at them, seeming to pity her mother more than her.
“I’ll be watching to see just how well you live…”
Her mother’s words cut off.
An ominous tension swept over the air. Seorin saw a pair of black dress shoes casting a shadow over her.
Slowly, she lifted her head.
It was Seong Jiheon.
He had a stiff expression, as if suppressing something boiling beneath the surface. His sharp eyes scanned the surroundings—the torn bag, the broken laptop, and the woman whose fury still hadn’t cooled down.
“Who is this?”
Hyeonhee spoke, her tone mixed with surprise and suspicion.
Jiheon didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped forward and stood beside Seorin. With his presence alone, the air seemed to settle, though the tension remained heavy.
“Are you… Seorin’s husband?”
Jiheon nodded once, curtly.
“Good. Then you take her. Take her far away. I don’t want to see her ever again.”
“Hyeonhee.”
The single word from Jiheon silenced her instantly. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t threatening. But it carried undeniable authority.
“You’ve done enough. Don’t make her kneel here, too.”
Hyeonhee’s face twisted.
“She’s the one who—”
“I know.”
His voice was calm, yet unwavering.
“I know everything. That she married me. That she moved out. That she cleaned your house just now. That she came here without telling me, probably to protect your pride.”
“Protect me?”
“Yes. Even now, she didn’t say a word about what happened here.”
Seorin’s eyes widened.
Jiheon didn’t look at her, but she could feel it—the quiet fury, the restrained emotion, and somewhere in that storm, a fierce protectiveness.
He looked down at the broken laptop and picked it up.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“But…”
“I said let’s go.”
Jiheon’s tone allowed no argument. Seorin followed him.
Behind them, Hyeonhee didn’t call out. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but she remained silent.
They walked out of the apartment complex. The early summer heat stuck to the skin, but neither of them spoke a word until they reached the car.
Only after getting in and closing the door did Jiheon finally turn toward Seorin.
“Are you hurt?”
“No…”
Her voice trembled, small and hesitant.
He reached over and gently touched her wrist, where red marks still lingered from her mother’s grip.
“You should have told me.”
“I thought I could handle it.”
“You don’t have to handle things alone anymore.”
Her throat tightened at his words.
She looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap.
“I just didn’t want you to see that side of my family.”
“I don’t care what your family is like,” Jiheon said. “I care about you.”
Seorin finally lifted her gaze and met his.
It felt like—for the first time in a long time—someone was standing between her and the world.
