I Shouldn’t Have Let Him Speak

Granting him an opportunity to apologize could also be seen as selfish.

There had already been numerous chances.

He could claim he had apologized and that Haejin simply wouldn’t accept it.

He could even feel relieved, thinking he had done everything he could.

So, if Haejin wanted him to live forever regretting their past life and carrying that burden in his heart, then the right thing would be to not even give him a chance to apologize.

But perhaps it was because he saw Beomwoo crying today.

Being coldly rejecting proved difficult.

Just as he worried during the psychiatric counseling that Beomwoo might be suffering from past thoughts and on the verge of tears, Haejin didn’t want to see Beomwoo cry.

Even while filled with hatred, the desire to vent and lash out at him, a contradictory wish for him not to suffer was tangled up complexly within him.

It was his last day in the hospital…

Given they had to share the same room, it was hard to ignore him…

Haejin made various excuses and spoke in a weak voice, saying he’d listen.

‘I’ll listen. But… don’t get your hopes up.’

Although he spoke coldly, at Haejin’s answer that he would at least listen, a faint hint of relief appeared on Beomwoo’s face, which had been watching his reaction.

It was the face of someone who felt they had taken a step forward and held onto hope.

……I wish I could feel that too.

Living a whole life hating someone was difficult.

Hating someone also required strength, especially since Beomwoo was someone Haejin had once sincerely loved, and they were now bound by an imprint, making their entanglement unavoidable.

Despite the hatred being so immense that hearing an explanation seemed unlikely to change anything, Haejin listened to Beomwoo’s story with a personal hope—that maybe, just maybe, he could bring himself to believe him.

* * * *

“You don’t think it’s all over just because you inherited the company, do you? You need to solidify your position. You must have a child.”

That tiresome talk again.

At his mother’s sharp voice, Beomwoo lost interest, a sigh dying in his eyes.

Thanks to his philandering father, Beomwoo had two half-brothers.

He couldn’t live harmoniously with his family and spent his childhood in constant competition.

Who was more suitable? Speech, behavior, grades—everything became a metric for judgment.

He had to act and run toward the goal without a moment to breathe.

After all that struggle, it was absurd that his father decided to leave the company to the child who married the omega son of his most loyal secretary.

But he accomplished that too.

Thanks to his half-brothers having flaws and the marriage being mutually beneficial, he smoothly inherited the company, and the constant, breathless competition with his brothers came to an end.

Even after that, his brothers still eyed his position warily, but it was nothing compared to before.

And despite it being that kind of marriage, his married life with Haejin wasn’t so bad.

Haejin was quiet, and Beomwoo somehow felt awkward in front of him, making his normally quiet self even more reticent, so it was a bit stiff…

But anyway, Haejin didn’t cause problems and was a decent person, so he considered it a reasonably good married life for what it was.

They were living like that when, as if shattering the peace, his mother began subtly pressuring him about children.

The company Beomwoo inherited, much like in his own experience, had always passed succession through bloodlines.

Therefore, having no children meant having no successor.

If any issues arose, talk could surface about handing the company over to another brother who did have an heir.

Even without someone actively pushing for it, considering the company might go to an unrelated child, having one of his own was preferable.

His mother also saw handing it over to his brothers’ children as losing the company, so she demanded a child from them.

Perhaps because the first brother, Hyeonnam’s child, might inherit, she seemed even more anxious.

It wasn’t that his mother was worrying over nothing.

But Beomwoo thought demanding a child from Haejin was an unreasonable request for a marriage based on mutual necessity.

Even if he considered how much money he gave Haejin for this marriage, and that Haejin also gained something from it, burdening him with child plans was too unethical.

Truthfully, Beomwoo wasn’t particularly attached to his own bloodline and didn’t even like children.

His mother wouldn’t want it, but if necessary, he thought adoption was fine.

However, from a competitiveness standpoint, having a child with his and Haejin’s blood was the best option.

Knowing this, Beomwoo sat Haejin down in their room and carefully asked for his opinion, rather than forcing him to bear his child.

“By any chance… are you thinking of having a child?”

“……A child?”

It was a sensitive topic, so when Beomwoo asked cautiously, Haejin blinked his round eyes like a rabbit.

It seemed Haejin, despite marrying him, had never once considered having to bear a child.

In fact, Haejin had married earlier than most, making him too young to shoulder the responsibility of a child.

People said a child raising a child, and that fit perfectly.

Moreover, theirs wasn’t a marriage born of mutual affection, so the likelihood he had ever thought about wanting a child was practically zero.

‘Of course. As expected.’ He’d felt the same until now.

A sense of regret inexplicably washed over Beomwoo, but he thought it couldn’t be helped if Haejin didn’t want a child.

As he’d thought earlier, there were many other ways besides Haejin giving birth.

Beomwoo was about to say, ‘I thought so,’ and ask him to forget the conversation, retracting the plan.

Just as he was about to back down, Haejin, who had been rolling his eyes in thought, answered softly.

“I think… it, it sounds good.”

“……?”

Good?

It was an unexpected answer. He’d assumed Haejin would find it burdensome and dislike it…

Could it be that he felt pressured by the marriage and considered bearing a child just another duty he had to fulfill?

Given his obedient nature, he might accept even unfair demands.

Since he had absolutely no intention of forcing him, Beomwoo asked again, wondering if he had answered with that meaning.

“Really? If you’re answering out of a sense of obligation, it’s okay to honestly say you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s not out of obligation… I… actually, I’ve always wanted to have a family.”

But contrary to his worry, Haejin answered somewhat shyly, as if revealing a long-held dream.

At his answer, Beomwoo recalled a time when Haejin had chattered away in front of him about his childhood.

He’d heard that Haejin’s parents passed away early, but they had a good relationship while alive.

After being adopted, Haejin was abused by his adoptive parents, yet he craved and clung to their love, showing how vulnerable he was regarding family.

He also remembered Haejin talking as if he had a romanticized ideal of a harmonious family with children.

If they had a child, could they build the kind of harmonious family Haejin dreamed of?

Beomwoo had never lived in such a family, and they weren’t as deeply connected as Haejin’s birth parents, so showing the image of parents sharing love would be difficult, wouldn’t it?

Beomwoo briefly entertained that thought but quickly dismissed it.

Strangely, even though just moments ago he was concerned enough to say Haejin shouldn’t force himself, some selfish part of him prevented the words ‘Wouldn’t that be hard?’ from coming out.

He thought, as he did when they married, that acting out that role wouldn’t be difficult.

He didn’t know that performance had already crumbled, nor that Haejin was lonely.

From that day on, Beomwoo seriously began planning for a child, suggesting they pick a specific date and start making efforts from then.

There was no problem starting immediately, but unfortunately, they hadn’t been intimate even years into their marriage.

They were setting aside time for mutual mental preparation.

As Beomwoo thought about preparing to have a child with Haejin, his feelings flipped like the palm of his hand with each passing day leading up to the promised date.

The method to have a child was through intimacy, but he couldn’t even imagine being physically close with Haejin.

The reason was simple: Beomwoo found it too difficult to interact with Haejin.

As much as he viewed Haejin favorably, he naturally wanted to treat him well.

But the more he tried, the more things went awry, and even imagining physical intimacy made him fear he’d make a mistake, cause pain, and he grew apprehensive.

Moreover, in Beomwoo’s eyes, Haejin had seemed so young from the very first time he saw him, and his face hadn’t changed much even now.

Perhaps because he’d always seemed young, Beomwoo became even more cautious.

Thinking that, he could have postponed the date, saying a child wasn’t that urgent and they needed more mental preparation.

But strangely, he didn’t feel like doing that either.

As the date approached, a peculiar sense of anticipation swelled every time he saw Haejin.

‘I’m not some beast blinded by lust, so why do I feel like this…?’

He’d steel himself, thinking he shouldn’t be like this, then flip again, thinking, ‘But we’re a married couple, isn’t this natural?’

They were unequivocally adults and spouses.

Haejin also had the goal of having a child and building a family, so it wasn’t a one-sided demand.

He thought harboring these feelings was better than not having them at all.

While Beomwoo wavered like a reed, time passed gradually, and the promised date arrived.