Affectionate Obsession - Chapter 52

“……Yeonhee.”

Early in the morning, Junhyeok, who had been lingering by Yeonhee’s side, knelt down and sat by the bedside.

Reflected in Junhyeok’s eyes was Yeonhee’s face, devoid of any color.

Perhaps she hadn’t slept all night again, Yeonhee’s under-eyes were dark with shadows.

The pupils within her aimlessly blinking eyelids had been unfocused since the day Yeonjeong left.

That was already a week ago.

Yeonhee, unable to eat or sleep, was slowly wilting away.

Junhyeok felt a sigh welling up out of habit, but he swallowed it down with all his might. Then, pretending to be unfazed, he tidied Yeonhee’s hair and spoke.

“Yeonhee, is there anything you want to eat? I was thinking of taking the day off from work, would you like to go out for some fresh air?”

Yeonhee, who had been staring blankly at some unknown spot, slowly rolled her eyes.

Reflected in her pupils was Junhyeok, already dressed smartly and ready for work.

Yeonhee weakly shook her head.

She had no desire to eat, nor any desire to go out for fresh air.

She just wanted to be alone.

Yeonhee scratched her parched throat and barely managed to speak.

“I’m fine, so you should go.”

Even with just these few words, her throat felt choked, and she couldn’t even see him off properly.

Still, from Yeonhee’s perspective, it was her best effort.

She wanted to alleviate even a little of his worry, which must have already felt like a mountain.

However, Junhyeok’s worry was not something Yeonhee’s efforts could alleviate.

“Don’t do that.”

As expected, Junhyeok’s voice followed immediately.

From the outset, his tone was far from suggesting he would go to work.

Yeonhee lowered her eyelids and closed them without a word.

Honestly, she wanted Junhyeok to stay by her side.

Even if he stayed, nothing would particularly change, but at least she wouldn’t have bad thoughts.

Since the day Yeonjeong left, dangerous thoughts had been surfacing in her mind intermittently.

She was doing her best to suppress the dangerous impulses, but it wasn’t easy.

Still, she endured.

She endured desperately, thinking that Yeonjeong would never want that, and that she couldn’t do such a thing next to Junhyeok, who was only looking at her.

Once Junhyeok left for work, she would have to spend even more difficult times suppressing the impulses that grew stronger.

But she couldn’t shamelessly hold Junhyeok back to ease that hardship.

He was busy enough as it was.

Whatever it was, it was clear that something unusual was happening to him.

Even with her unstable mind, she could tell that his complexion was darkening day by day.

Moreover, even before leaving for work, and after returning, his phone rang incessantly.

Most of the calls were from his secretary, and each time, Junhyeok would excuse himself, but he couldn’t hide the momentary darkening of his expression.

That made Yeonhee’s heart even heavier. But right now, with Yeonjeong’s matter alone being too overwhelming, she didn’t have the capacity to shoulder Junhyeok’s burdens as well.

All she could do was ensure that his work wouldn’t be disrupted because of her, that was all.

“Junhyeok, I’m sleepy.”

Yeonhee said in a subdued voice.

Junhyeok knew that her claim of being sleepy was just an excuse.

Instead of a reply, a deep sigh came.

From that alone, she could tell how complicated his feelings were.

Yeonhee didn’t have the strength to even lift a finger, but she forced her lips to move.

“I couldn’t sleep all night, but now I’m finally sleepy.”

“……”

“I’m going to sleep for a bit. You go to work quickly.”

At the end of her words, Yeonhee forced a smile. It was truly her best effort at that moment.

Perhaps her feelings were conveyed.

Junhyeok gave a weak, resigned smile and nodded.

“……Alright.”

A morning more difficult than any other was passing.

After Junhyeok left for work, the empty house was frighteningly quiet.

Yeonhee blinked her eyelids in the heavy silence.

Once, twice, three times.

After just three blinks, the tears she had held back all night began to well up.

Yeonhee curled up into a ball, as if out of habit. Recalling the nights she spent in the hospital room with Yeonjeong.

After doing so, she felt as if she could hear Yeonjeong’s voice.

‘Yeonhee.’

Yeonjeong’s voice, which always called her name warmly and tenderly.

Yeonhee missed Yeonjeong every day, replaying and savoring their memories.

She felt she had to do it that way.

Otherwise, she felt Yeonjeong’s departing path would be too lonely.

Yeonhee squeezed her eyes shut against the overwhelming sorrow. Tears trickled down from between her tightly closed eyelids.

On the night she slept soundly in Yeonjeong’s arms, Yeonjeong had left her side at some point without her knowing.

Her mother, who had only ever wished for her own happiness until the end, had left her final farewell by embracing her struggling daughter.

The word ‘miracle,’ which everyone had used, was indeed fitting.

But Yeonhee couldn’t bring herself to look up at that miracle.

It felt as if Yeonjeong had used up the rest of her life for that one day of miracle.

To convey the words that she truly wished for her happiness.

If it had been a choice, Yeonjeong would have gladly made it.

Yeonjeong was that kind of person.

Not only did she genuinely embrace countless children abandoned by their parents, but even if she herself ate and wore little, she worked her entire life to ensure her adopted children, who shared no blood ties, were well-fed and well-clothed.

Even when she learned that the result of such a difficult life was pancreatic cancer, she never once blamed the world.

Instead, she felt guilty that her illness might be holding her child back.

Yeonjeong was that kind of good person.

Yet, Yeonjeong’s final journey, after a lifetime of living only for others, was incredibly lonely.

During the three-day funeral, only she, Miyeong, and Junhyeok were present at the venue.

Just as she had cut off all ties when she decided to leave Junhyeok ten years ago, Yeonjeong had also severed the bonds she had built to be with her.

Afterward, fearing that Junhyeok might find her if she stayed in one place too long, she had endured periodic moves out of anxiety.

During those ten years of living that way, everyone who approached Yeonhee was merely an unnecessary connection.

She was always busy building a fence around herself, drawing a line so that no one could enter that enclosure.

As if knowing her heart, Yeonjeong also didn’t form relationships beyond what was necessary.

Knowing this, she pretended not to.

She was too busy taking care of her own heart to consider Yeonjeong’s hardships.

If she had known she would carry this guilt now, she would have apologized to Yeonjeong at least once.

Saying she was sorry for making her mother suffer so much.

Yeonjeong would have smiled at those words and surely said, “Mom is fine, don’t worry about it.”

Regret that came too late was utterly useless.

Yeonhee realized that fact now.

“Mom.”

“……”

“……Mom, Mom.”

Yeonhee called out that name, to which there would be no answer, several times. Then she repeated Yeonjeong’s last words.

‘Live a happy life. Whatever you do, make choices for yourself, not for others, and live a life according to your will.’

Yes, Mom. I’ll try to do that.

I don’t know yet what a happy life for me looks like, but…

I’ll think hard about it.

Mom must have stayed by my side until the end because she wanted to hear that answer, but I couldn’t even give that simple answer, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I didn’t visit you more.

I’m sorry I didn’t make you smile more.

I’m sorry I wasn’t a better daughter.

Still, Mom.

Still, I really, so much…

“……I love you.”

Whispering a confession that was too late, Yeonhee buried her face in the pillow.

Then, for the last time, she recalled and cherished Yeonjeong’s voice, Yeonjeong’s touch, and Yeonjeong’s warm embrace.

And strangely, it felt as if she were truly embraced by Yeonjeong, receiving her touch, and hearing Yeonjeong’s voice saying “I love you.”

Yeonhee savored that happiness to her heart’s content.

Thinking that this might be the last miracle that had come to her.

She lay there for a long time, imprinting the present moment, so poignant and precious, into her heart without missing a beat.

She didn’t know how much time had passed.

However, when she opened her swollen eyes again, she felt a sense of relief.

It felt as if Yeonjeong, who had not yet ascended to heaven, was looking at her with approval.

If that were truly the case, she shouldn’t show such a dejected appearance anymore, to make Yeonjeong’s final departure a little lighter.

She still didn’t have the strength to move even a finger, but Yeonhee forced herself to sit up.

But then, her phone suddenly began to vibrate.

Picking it up with a puzzled expression, she saw an eleven-digit number, not saved in her contacts, on the screen.

“……Hello.”

After a moment of hesitation, Yeonhee brought the phone to her ear. Then, a voice immediately came through.

－Ah, it’s me. You can understand my voice, right?

It was Junhyeok’s birth mother, her mother-in-law, who was acting as Yoon Sera.

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