My Pretty Husband의 모든 챕터: 챕터 121 - 챕터 130

I guess Seoul is safe now. Or at least… safe enough. Auntie Kim is no longer a threat. The claws that used to dig into my spine every time I thought about going back — they’re dull now. Blunted. Dongju’s the one who’s pushing me to return, and honestly… if it’s him, I don’t mind. I trust him. He says we’ll go back to our old place, not Baekhoon’s house. That’s a relief. Because even now, with everything that’s changed, I can’t imagine going back there.Back to that bed. That couch. Those walls that knew all our silences. We’re getting divorced. That’s final. Even if he tore up the papers. Even if he called off his engagement to Shela. I have no reason to stay. Because he doesn’t love me. Not in the way I needed to be loved.Before we leave, Uncle Lee’s family invites us to stay for breakfast. Their voices are warm, their smiles gentle — but I feel this dull ache in my chest. A quiet guilt. I won’t be helping at the shop anymore. I won’t be sweeping the front porch at dawn or rolling no

His hand slips from my chin, trailing down my arm. He’s not holding me anymore — but it feels like I’m still trapped. Trapped in his orbit, in the past, in everything we never said when we should’ve.“Baekhoon…” My name trembles on his lips. He’s looking at me like I’m the last thing keeping him from falling apart.I should walk away. I need to walk away. But my feet won’t move. My heart won’t listen. And when he leans in — just slightly, close enough that our foreheads almost touch — I feel it again. That stupid, dangerous thing that still lives inside me. Hope. Baekhoon’s breath brushes against my cheek. His eyes flick down to my lips, then back to my eyes — searching, waiting. My heart jumps into my throat.No. No, this isn’t supposed to happen. I can’t let it. But I don’t stop him either. His hand finds mine — tentative, like he's asking for permission without words. I don't pull away. I should, but my body betrays me. He leans in, just a little more. Our noses almost touch. My bre

Now that Dongju holds an official position at the company, he has to leave early every morning. I understand. There’s a lot on his plate — board meetings, documents, rebuilding trust after years of corruption. He’s working hard to restore what our parents left behind. Technically, I also have a share in the company, but I haven’t been nearly as involved. I’m not driven like him.Maybe because I’m tired. Or maybe because I just... don’t care anymore. Dongju is the son of the family, and in a traditional household like ours, that still means something. He gets the bigger responsibilities, the bigger say. But strangely, I don’t feel bitter. I never have. That role suits him. He belongs in the world of business and suits and deadlines. I don’t.When Dongju asked if I wanted to hire a housekeeper, I refused immediately. Here in Korea, it’s not that common unless you’re upper class. But more than that, I wanted to do it myself.There’s something deeply comforting about managing a home with y

“You don’t want to answer? Fine. We’re going to the hospital — right now!” he said firmly. Baekhoon stands up and pushes back his chair with a sharp scrape. Then, in one swift motion, he grabs my wrist and pulls me to my feet.“No! Wait, Baekhoon!” I cry out in panic. I try to wriggle free, but his grip is unrelenting. It’s like he refuses to let go. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about!”“You don’t understand?” he repeated with disbelief. “Yongju, that thing is yours, isn’t it? Or are you just pretending? Are you trying to run away from me, Mrs. Byun?”Mrs. Byun?God. I can’t afford to be swayed. Baekhoon’s mouth is dangerously sweet — but his words always come with thorns. I fall silent, trying to recall anything — anything that could make sense of all this. And then it hits me.Oh. Right. That day I was late on my period. I did try to use it — but I never got the chance because Baekhoon called out to me so loudly that I panicked and it slipped out of my hand. It fell into t

As soon as we step into the house, the warmth of the heater wraps around me like a thick blanket. The grand chandelier overhead sparkles, and I suddenly feel out of place — like I’ve walked into a life that no longer belongs to me. Baekhoon’s parents rise from the sofa in the living room the moment they see us. His mother walks toward me with open arms and a wide smile.“There you are,” she said warmly. “It’s been too long, Yongju.”For a second, I freeze. I was expecting awkwardness, or at least distance. But there’s none. She hugs me gently, and I catch a faint scent of rose and lavender on her clothes — elegant, just like her.“How have you been, Mom?” I asked quietly, testing the word on my tongue. It still feels foreign.She beams. “Much better, now that you’re here.”Behind her, Baekhoon’s father gives me a nod of approval. “Welcome back, Yongju. You look well.”I bow my head politely, murmuring a thank you, still unsure how to respond to this warmth. I hadn’t prepared for it. T