The Weight of Unspoken Bonds

“Are you pretending right now?”

“What is it about?”

The moment the front door opened, he could feel Tae-seok’s pheromones.

The dizziness and nausea that had overwhelmed him earlier suddenly faded, and his foggy head cleared.

Was it because of the alpha pheromones?

But… why was he here at this hour?

It wasn’t even eight in the evening yet.

“Tae-seok Han, you come here too.”

Director Ji, though strict toward Jae-kyung, had always been kind to her son.

But now, she looked furious, summoning Tae-seok to stand before her as well.

“You two told me you’d completed the imprinting.

But the test results say otherwise.

Is that true?”

The moment Director Ji finished speaking, Tae-seok let out a sigh — a sound that carried no clear meaning.

Was it disappointment in Jae-kyung, or frustration with the situation itself?

“It’s true.”

“Tae-seok.”

“Ma’am, please take him to the room.”

The housekeeper hesitated for a moment before helping Jae-kyung up and guiding him into the bedroom.

Behind them, Director Ji’s angry voice echoed sharply through the house, but to Jae-kyung, it was just meaningless noise — nothing more, nothing less.

“You have a fever…”

The housekeeper placed a hand on Jae-kyung’s forehead and frowned.

She brought fever medicine and helped him lie down, covering him with the blanket.

As soon as he pulled the blanket up to his chin, sleep began to overtake him.

But when he next opened his eyes, he heard the sound of the door opening — click.

No one else ever opened that door except him.

So, was he dreaming?

“I told my mother that the matter of imprinting was something we had agreed upon beforehand.

And that we decided to hold off on imprinting for now — that I want to focus on work for two years before having a child.

So for a while, no one will bother you about it.

And…”

He heard the rustling of papers and then the soft sound of something being placed on the table near the door.

“I heard from the housekeeper that you never go out except for work at the gallery.

Use that card for some shopping or take a trip somewhere.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the door closed.

He didn’t need to see to know — Tae-seok had never stepped past the doorway.

He had opened the door, spoken his piece, and left.

Wasn’t it ridiculous?

If only he had stepped inside, held him once, spoken to him face to face — maybe his heart would have softened, and the hurt might have faded.

Isn’t that what being a couple means?

Isn’t that what living together should be?

Under the blanket, Jae-kyung began to cry.

And the next morning, he quietly approached Tae-seok at breakfast, placed the card beside his plate, and went back to his room without a word.

The pheromones that had clung to him were gone.

Jae-kyung set aside the blanket that wrapped around him and slowly got up.

He walked quietly to the door, careful not to make a sound.

Outside, everything was calm — the earlier tension had vanished, and there were no signs of anyone around.

When he opened the door, he saw the manager arranging displays.

“What on earth were you doing in there all this time?”

“Ah… I must’ve fallen asleep while organizing. I’m sorry.”

He stepped out and looked around.

No one was there.

No cars outside.

Everything was peaceful.

“What are you looking around for?”

“Ah… those company people?”

“They left. About five minutes after you went inside.”

“Five minutes?”

How long had it been, really?

He looked up at the clock — at least an hour had passed.

“They didn’t say anything?”

“Hmm? Nothing worth noting. Just said this store has the highest sales in the district and that it’s well-run.

You know, the usual corporate talk — ‘Keep up the good work,’ ‘We expect great things.’”

“I see… Is NI taking over?”

“You didn’t know? Jae-kyung, you should really keep up with the news.”

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been watching the news or anything lately. I just… haven’t cared.”

Truthfully, he used to follow the economy section most.

But since the divorce, he hadn’t read a single newspaper.

Maybe he just wanted to distance himself from that world.

“I heard at the managers’ meeting that NI’s takeover talks dragged on for about a year.

Then suddenly, the deal was finalized out of nowhere.”

“A year… I see.”

A year ago — that was before the divorce.

His memories were hazy now.

And come to think of it, his headache was gone.

As expected, nothing about that man ever brought him peace.

Even seeing his face gave him migraines.

“Do you think they’ll come again?”

“Busy people like that? Not a chance.”

“Right…”

“Why do you look so pale? You’re all white as a sheet.”

He didn’t feel unwell, but maybe it was just the light.

He brushed it off and finished his shift, refusing to go home early despite his boss’s insistence.

Only after dawn did he finally return home.

“Phew…”

As soon as he lay down, exhaustion flooded through him.

Too tired to even shower, he slipped under the covers and pulled them up tight.

He tried not to think, but Tae-seok’s face came back to him anyway — the same cold, expressionless face he’d seen in court.

The same one he wore at every event, every party.

Even then, he’d wondered how he managed to live with that face, so devoid of warmth.

“Ah…”

The headache he thought had passed began to return.

Sighing, he got up, took some painkillers, and lay back down.

Then another thought struck him.

If the convenience store was now under NI’s umbrella, didn’t that mean he should quit?

If no one had recognized him, he might’ve hidden it.

But that secretary — Oh — had definitely seen him.

He wasn’t sure what would happen now.

For the moment, all he could do was pretend nothing happened.

He liked the store, liked the manager — he didn’t want to move again.

Yawning, he closed his eyes.

The day had been long.

A month passed.

Contrary to his fears, nothing happened.

The manager stopped by a few times, but no one from NI showed up again.

Life returned to its quiet rhythm.

He worked hard, ate well, watched movies or read on his days off.

Sometimes, he even took short solo subway trips out of the city.

Just yesterday, he received his second paycheck and was thinking about what to buy his mother when the store doorbell jingled.

“Hello, Mr. Jae-kyung.”

“Oh… Secretary Oh.”

His heart sank.

So much for peace.

“Do you have a moment?”

“As you can see, I’m the only one here. I can’t leave, but there’s a small table over there if that’s okay.”

He pointed to a tiny table tucked in the corner — something he had squeezed in for students who needed a place to eat instant noodles.

It was too small for two adults, but Secretary Oh nodded and sat down.

After finishing his task, Jae-kyung joined him at the other side.

“I figured you’d come sooner or later.”

“Yes.”

“Is this about the divorce agreement?

I didn’t know this store would become part of NI, but if I broke the terms, I’ll comply with whatever is required.”

“Please don’t worry. That’s not why I’m here.”

Secretary Oh opened his bag and handed him some documents.

“What’s this?”

“Mr. Han asked me to deliver it to you.”

“That man?”

Impossible.

“Please take a look.”

They were store contracts — not one, but two.

Prime locations.

Excellent lease terms.

Top commercial areas.

He frowned and set them down on the table.

“Why are you giving these to me?”

“Mr. Han asked that you receive them.”

“He wants me to run these stores? Two shops with rent over seventy million won each?

Am I supposed to be grateful?”

“Mr. Jae-kyung…”

“There’s no reason for me to accept.

The property division is over.

I already received a fair settlement.

This—” he tapped the contracts, “—this is nothing but pity.

Tell him I refuse.

No, better yet — take them back yourself, Secretary Oh. Don’t use his name as an excuse.”

Secretary Oh’s eyes widened.

“Do you think I don’t know?

This isn’t from him.

It’s from you, pretending he cares.

That man — Han Tae-seok — would never bother with something like this.”

If he had truly cared even a little, things wouldn’t have ended this way.

“And one more thing,” he said quietly.

“Every year on our wedding anniversary, and on my birthday, you brought me flowers and cake.

You always said, ‘He’s too busy, so he asked me to bring them instead.’

But those were all your arrangements, weren’t they?”

He had still accepted them.

He smiled and thanked him, pretending to believe the lie.

Because even a lie felt better than being forgotten.

But in the end, even those gestures weren’t for him — they were just another task to make his boss’s life easier.