Chapter 8
Kyung-hwa looked very much like Moon-hyuk.
More precisely, Moon-hyuk must have taken after her.
She had an aristocratic sharpness and sensitivity about her, yet at the same time, there was a refined elegance to her.
Of course, in magazines and the media, she was always good at hiding even that sharp side behind a gentle smile.
In any case, looking at her noble appearance, as beautiful as a work of art, no one would ever imagine her as someone who would scatter coarse salt over another person.
Even though Seol-ah had arrived, Kyung-hwa said nothing.
She didn’t even look at her.
She simply turned the page of the art magazine she had been reading.
Rustle.
In the quiet silence, the sound of the page turning seemed unusually loud.
How many times had something like this happened?
Time passed so slowly that one second felt like a minute.
Unable to tell whether she was being punished or simply waiting in an endless stretch of time, Seol-ah stood quietly and politely, her expression blank like a mannequin.
When she had first gotten married, Seol-ah had genuinely wanted to make a good impression on Kyung-hwa.
Taekyung’s family was incomparably more prestigious than her own.
And compared to the exceptionally accomplished Moon-hyuk, she was just an ordinary woman.
Naturally, she wasn’t the kind of daughter-in-law Kyung-hwa would want.
But Seol-ah had naively believed that if she gave her whole heart and did her very best, perhaps Kyung-hwa would recognize her sincerity someday.
With that innocent hope, she had done everything she could, even pretending she would die if Kyung-hwa told her to.
She had desperately wanted to earn Kyung-hwa’s approval.
But the more desperately she tried, the more she received cold contempt, rejection, and treatment as though she were invisible.
Just like now.
Perhaps she was simply too exhausted.
Or perhaps she had gradually given up.
Or maybe she had simply become too accustomed to it.
Her heart had slowly grown numb, and before she knew it, she could no longer feel anything at all, as though she were already dead inside.
And yet, whenever she saw Kyung-hwa, her pounding heart reminded her that she was still alive.
Just like now.
Seol-ah endured that time with a calm expression, even though her heart was anything but calm.
Then, suddenly, Jihyun’s image overlapped with Kyung-hwa’s figure as she completely ignored Seol-ah and continued reading her magazine.
Just as Seol-ah was thinking how much the two women resembled each other, enough to be mistaken for mother and daughter—
“Did you send your mother-in-law off well?”
Kyung-hwa slowly spoke without taking her eyes off the magazine.
The quiet question came so suddenly that Seol-ah flinched.
She straightened her posture and answered.
“Yes.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear you sent her off properly.”
“……”
Kyung-hwa still wouldn’t even meet her eyes.
Her voice was dry.
Even now, she continued turning the pages of the magazine indifferently.
Seol-ah felt as though her throat had been crushed.
She couldn’t answer.
No, what was she supposed to say?
Thank you?
Or simply Yes, like a parrot?
Perhaps Kyung-hwa didn’t even need an answer from her.
At that moment—
Tap.
Kyung-hwa closed the magazine.
Finally, she raised her head and looked coldly at Seol-ah.
Her gaze slowly traveled from Seol-ah’s head to her feet, examining every part of her with a cold, meticulous stare.
“Ha…”
A long sigh escaped Kyung-hwa’s lips.
“You look… terrible.”
The obvious sigh.
The cynical tone.
The gaze that made no effort to hide her disgust and contempt.
And words that were almost impossible to believe were being spoken to a daughter-in-law who had just buried her mother.
Yet perhaps because Kyung-hwa was naturally so elegant and refined, even such vulgar words somehow did not sound vulgar when she said them.
“……”
Seol-ah bit her lip tightly and lowered her gaze slightly.
Normally, she would have said something like:
I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful in the future.
But today, she didn’t want to.
Kyung-hwa’s eyes narrowed when Seol-ah did not answer.
Seol-ah was desperately suppressing her emotions, yet some of them kept slipping through.
That seemed to irritate Kyung-hwa.
Kyung-hwa’s lips parted.
But then she suddenly remembered what kind of day this was for Seol-ah.
She withdrew her gaze and waved her hand dismissively, as though Seol-ah were simply troublesome.
“No. You must be tired. Go and rest.”
It was probably the best Kyung-hwa could offer Seol-ah.
Even so, she did not forget to add one more thing.
“And don’t attend Father-in-law’s memorial rite today. Don’t think about coming out to greet everyone, either. Just stay out of sight as though you don’t exist. You understand what I mean, don’t you?”
How could Seol-ah not understand?
Perhaps Kyung-hwa was worried that something bad would happen if Seol-ah attended.
And she was probably embarrassed to have a daughter-in-law she disliked appear in front of the relatives.
Yet Seol-ah must have been completely shameless.
Because, strangely enough, those words actually made her feel grateful.
“Yes, I understand.”
Seol-ah answered.
But apparently, Kyung-hwa didn’t like that.
Perhaps she disliked how obedient the answer was.
Or perhaps Seol-ah’s overly calm voice irritated her.
Kyung-hwa’s perfectly shaped eyebrows slowly rose.
Then she slowly lifted her eyes toward Seol-ah.
The wind was blowing.
A harsh winter wind that cut painfully through the body.
Kyung-hwa’s gaze reminded Seol-ah of that winter wind.
Seol-ah quietly endured it.
Soon, an unbearably cold silence flowed between them like water.
It was an extremely uncomfortable stretch of time.
Seol-ah stood still with her eyes lowered slightly.
Perhaps it was a kind of endurance she had naturally learned from childhood.
Or perhaps she simply had no other choice.
Eventually, Kyung-hwa withdrew her gaze.
With an expressionless face, she opened the magazine again.
Then, without looking up from it, she spoke indifferently.
“Go over there.”
With that dry command came the sound of another page turning.
Rustle.
She was deliberately ignoring Seol-ah completely.
Seol-ah answered.
“…Yes.”
Then she added,
“Mother.”
Perhaps it was an act of defiance.
Or perhaps, like a worm squirming when stepped on, Seol-ah wanted to say:
You may never want to acknowledge me, but I am still your daughter-in-law.
Kyung-hwa’s hand stopped for a moment as she was turning the page.
But soon, the page turned again.
Seol-ah bowed her head toward Kyung-hwa, who sat there as beautifully as a painting.
Even as Seol-ah turned around to leave for the separate residence where she lived with Moon-hyuk, Kyung-hwa did not give her even the slightest glance.
Only after Seol-ah had begun leaving did Kyung-hwa raise her head and coldly watch her increasingly distant back.
Seol-ah could feel Kyung-hwa’s gaze, or rather, her feelings, prickling against her back.
But today, she wanted to straighten her shoulders and show that she was fine.
Yet her breathing kept becoming painfully difficult.
Still… just for today.
Couldn’t you have hugged me, even if I am a disappointing daughter-in-law?
Couldn’t you have said even one word of comfort?
Seol-ah kept her back straight and forced strength into her legs, which kept threatening to give out.
One step.
Then another.
But even that was too much.
The moment she entered the separate residence, her knees finally gave way.
She slid down against the door and collapsed onto the floor.
Her empty eyes, completely dried of tears, stared vaguely into the air.
Then, with lips moving as though releasing her final breath, she murmured to herself,
“Mom… I’m really tired.”
Seol-ah opened her eyes.
The bedroom was completely dark.
The LED clock showed 1:30.
Unable to believe it was already so late, she closed her eyes again.
Darkness came rushing back.
So did her memories.
She remembered barely managing to take a shower, lying down on the bed, and closing her eyes for a moment.
She must have fallen asleep.
But she had never expected to sleep until this late.
Perhaps because her eyes were closed.
Perhaps because it was so late at night.
Or perhaps because she was lying alone in such a huge space.
The empty, silent darkness felt as though it might swallow her whole at any moment.
Seol-ah used the remote control to turn on the lights.
Under the painfully bright light, the monochrome bedroom, which looked like a gallery, was revealed in stark detail.
Everything in this room had been arranged according to Moon-hyuk and Kyung-hwa’s tastes.
The only thing that gave the room any sense of human warmth was the sweet scent of ylang-ylang from the diffuser Seol-ah had chosen.
Seol-ah rubbed her forehead and slowly got out of bed.
The rose-colored silk slip dress softly wrapped around her body as it fell into place.
“Seol-ah, this…”
It was the dress her mother had hesitantly handed her on the night before her wedding.
The slip dress, decorated with delicate yet daring floral lace, was beautiful and incredibly bright.
It was hard to believe that her mother, who always insisted on simple, monochrome clothing, had chosen such a dress.
Her mother hadn’t said anything.
But Seol-ah understood.
Even though the marriage was arranged, her mother had wished for Seol-ah to be loved by her husband and to begin a happy, rose-colored newlywed life.
But Seol-ah had never been able to wear that dress.
“Oh! Ms. Seol-ah! The color of your scarf is a little…”
A few days before the wedding, one afternoon, Seol-ah had suddenly been summoned to Hwayang Art Center.
Jihyun had reacted as though she had seen something she shouldn’t have, dramatically covering her mouth.
“The color is… vulgar.”
That single sentence from Kyung-hwa, spoken while looking at the rose-colored scarf with contempt, had become deeply embedded in Seol-ah’s heart.
In the end, she had abandoned the dress containing her mother’s love.
But today, after burying her mother, she finally took that dress out of the most hidden corner of her dressing room and put it on.
What was so frightening about it?
What was so terrifying that I had to reject my mother’s gift?
A surge of heat rose painfully in Seol-ah’s chest.
It felt as though she had swallowed a ball of fire.
