Choi Kyung-Hye wore a look of utter disbelief; Choi Kang-Woo rarely touched anything other than his strictly regimented health foods. Sensing her reaction, Ms. Lee smiled as if she found the entire spectacle amusing.
“Yes, you wouldn’t believe how well they get along. And now, Minho even calls the Representative ‘Uncle’.”
A deep, genuine warmth stirred within Choi Kyung-Hye.
“Really? That’s good news.”
She wanted to pry further into the dynamic between Choi Kang-Woo and Han Na-Eun, but she held her tongue. Idle gossip was beneath her, and she refused to voice concerns that might validate such rumors. A single mother with a child in tow—hired merely as a Live-in Tutor—surely, Choi Kang-Woo wouldn’t look at a woman like that.
He was a man who wouldn’t even deign to notice the high-profile women offered to him through arranged marriage dates. While she felt a grim gratitude for his ascetic, detached nature, it also sparked a quiet, persistent anxiety.
“What was it that girl liked again?”
Deeply entrenched in her business, Choi Kyung-Hye had raised her children with the help of tutors and nannies. Both Choi Kang-Woo and her eldest son, who lived abroad, had grown into successful men without needing much guidance. Consequently, she knew their characters, but she was a stranger to her son’s inner thoughts or his personal tastes.
Just then, her phone rang. As she checked the caller ID, her lips curved into a subtle smile. It was a rare call from her eldest son, Kang-Hyuk. She answered, her voice immediately settling into a firm, maternal cadence.
“What’s the occasion? It’s like pulling teeth to get a call from you. You report that business is running smoothly, but is it really so difficult to check in on your mother?”
Her tone held a mix of light reproach and lingering bitterness. She couldn’t help but feel the distance he kept between them.
Kang-Hyuk’s voice was low and steady.
—I’m doing well.
Choi Kyung-Hye raised a brow, testing the air.
“Good. I hear your work is going well.”
For a fleeting second, pride flared, quickly dampened by his typical indifference. Oblivious to her shift in mood, Kang-Hyuk asked from across the line.
—How is Minho?
Choi Kyung-Hye leaned back into her chair, her expression sharpening.
“I was actually going to speak with you about Minho.”
Her tone grew measured and cautious.
—Is he still not speaking?
Concern colored Kang-Hyuk’s voice. Choi Kyung-Hye smiled softly.
“No. It seems Minho is improving, little by little.”
A wave of relief washed over her. The thought that his condition was finally shifting provided her with a rare sense of peace.
Kang-Hyuk asked, laced with expectation.
—Is that so?
Choi Kyung-Hye nodded, her smile deepening.
“Yes. I brought in a new tutor. A live-in tutor who is quite decent. What’s more, she has a child the same age as Minho.”
She tapped the table rhythmically, emboldened by the news. Sharing that Minho was finally opening up made her feel a rare, genuine sense of accomplishment.
Kang-Hyuk’s reaction was measured.
—That sounds like a good thing.
“It is. He’s even greeting the adults now. At the very least, he seems to be talking quite a bit with that child, Han Jiho, and the teacher.”
Choi Kyung-Hye spoke with palpable satisfaction. More than anything, she yearned for Minho to heal.
Kang-Hyuk asked again, as if the news were too good to believe.
—Really?
Choi Kyung-Hye nodded, her voice firm with conviction.
“Yes. So don’t worry. Come home sometime to see him. And try calling more often so he doesn’t forget who his father is.”
She believed that her eldest son needed to return to Korea to secure his position. It was essential for the company’s image and for the shareholders’ peace of mind.
However, Kang-Hyuk remained hesitant, his voice dropping.
—My heart isn’t yet…
Reading his reluctance, Choi Kyung-Hye sighed and narrowed her eyes.
“How long are you going to stay shackled to that woman? Especially when she’s the one who divorced you and walked away.”
A cynical edge entered her voice, guarding her pride against the sting of her son’s failure. To her, the divorce was an unhealed scar, a point of deep personal regret.
Kang-Hyuk let out a ragged sigh.
—Mother….
Choi Kyung-Hye steadied her breathing, pressing her lips together until they turned white. Sensing his hurt, she grew even more decisive.
“A person must be clear about their attachments. You need to be cold when the situation demands it. Don’t ever think about Minho’s mother again.”
She had spoken harshly, yet she couldn’t mask the awkward, clumsy comfort behind the words. She didn’t want to coddle him; she wanted to be the catalyst that forced him to shake off his grief.
Even so, as the words left her lips, her heart sank. Every syllable she uttered seemed to strike him with unnecessary force.
A heavy silence followed, as if they were both catching their breath. Kang-Hyuk broke it with a voice that sounded as if it were coming from miles away.
—I knew you would say that, Mother. But how can a person simply turn off their heart?
Choi Kyung-Hye frowned at his vulnerability.
“With that kind of spineless attitude, how much longer do you plan to rot abroad?”
She despised his weakness. While she understood the pain of the divorce and his choice to leave Minho behind, she believed his continued absence was a mistake. One could never find strength by retreating from past failures.
Kang-Hyuk remained unmoved.
—I told you from the start. It would take three years.
Choi Kyung-Hye raised an eyebrow and gave a sharp, perfunctory nod.
“Even so, come back often in between. You are Minho’s father. Children change in the blink of an eye. A month makes a difference; in a few years, he won’t even care if you claim to be his father. Affection is something that must be nurtured.”
Her voice stayed firm, but the anxiety beneath it betrayed her.
After a long pause, Kang-Hyuk muttered, his voice barely a whisper.
—Mother. I am afraid of affection.
Choi Kyung-Hye stopped breathing for a moment, her hand tightening around the phone. She struggled to comprehend a son who fled because he feared the weight of attachment, and her heart felt fractured by the complexity of it all. She inhaled deeply, forcing a calm tone.
“Is life really that easy? Especially when you have a child? Forget what needs to be forgotten, focus on your work, and visit Korea when you can.”
Another long silence followed. Then, Kang-Hyuk asked.
—How are you, Mother?
“How would I be? I’m just getting older. But I’m still fit enough to look after myself, so don’t you worry.”
The quiet stillness on the other end signaled his withdrawal.
—I’ll hang up now. I’ll try to make time to stop by if I can.
As soon as the line went dead, Choi Kyung-Hye sighed and set the phone down. Closing her eyes, she thought of his voice and muttered to herself.
“Still acting like such a child….”
Why was it that neither of her two grown sons was easy to handle?
* * *
Choi Kang-Woo, who had been leaving work early lately, hadn’t returned until long after sunset tonight. Han Na-Eun told herself she was only here to care for Minho—that it had nothing to do with him—but as the hour grew late, she couldn’t stop herself from waiting.
Late at night, she paced before the entrance, her hands shoved deep into her pockets.
The night air had turned biting, but her heart was hammering against her ribs, making sleep impossible. She tried to convince herself she wasn’t waiting for Choi Kang-Woo, that she merely wanted a breath of fresh air, but she couldn’t deceive her own nerves.
“Is it too late?”
She murmured to the shadows. Just then, footsteps echoed in the distance, growing steadily louder. She turned, and Choi Kang-Woo emerged from the darkness.
He caught sight of her, and his features softened into a smile as he approached.
“What are you doing out here at this hour?”
His voice was thick with exhaustion, yet underscored by a faint warmth.
Han Na-Eun felt her heart leap. She bowed her head, fighting for composure.
“You’re home? I was just… getting some fresh air.”
She tried to appear natural, but she knew the embarrassment was written all over her face.
Choi Kang-Woo breathed in the chill and glanced at his watch.
“It’s past eleven.”
His gaze drifted back to her. Under his subtle, probing look, Han Na-Eun quickly averted her eyes.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
She tried to speak with steady indifference, but her trembling voice betrayed her.
Choi Kang-Woo tilted his head, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.
“Did you happen to be waiting for me?”