Even If You Run Away

The test showed two unmistakable lines.

Ye-in bit her lip and placed it beside the four other pregnancy tests on the counter. Five in total. All positive.

Her face contorted as she stared at the clear results. Thinking back, one night stood out—the night it happened. A mistake. She remembered her husband’s irritated expression as he discarded a torn condom. She had mentioned birth control pills, but somehow, she’d forgotten to take them.

Thud.

The sharp sound of something vibrating on the marble sink startled her, and her shoulders jerked in response. It was her phone.

“Is Tae-heon home yet?”

A new message from her mother-in-law appeared on the screen. Ye-in glanced at the time.

The minute hand was nearing twelve. Her husband would be home any moment. Hastily, she bundled the pregnancy tests into a black plastic bag and rushed to tidy up the bathroom.

What am I going to do?

Her pale hands clenched and unclenched as she tried to calm herself. She tightened her grip on the bag. Why had she stuffed all the tests inside? She could’ve just shown them to her husband.

I have to tell him. It’s his child too.

It was the logical thing to do. But…

Unbidden memories came flooding back. The metallic scent of blood, the sharp tang of hospital disinfectants, the overwhelming sorrow of loss. She remembered how she had broken down, while her husband stood by her side, cold and unflinching. His emotionless profile, so composed, had etched itself deeply into her mind.

Ye-in knotted the plastic bag tightly, ensuring it wouldn’t easily come undone.

She paced nervously, searching for a hiding spot while casting anxious glances toward the front door. Her entire focus was attuned to the slightest sound, dreading his arrival.

The bathroom, the master bedroom, the study, the storage room… None felt safe. Finally, she settled on the guest bedroom. It was the only place she thought he might not look.

Sliding the bag beneath the guest mattress, she wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt and stepped out of the room.

As she turned the doorknob, a sharp tension gripped her, like a warning. Ignoring the ominous feeling, she opened the door—and froze.

There he was.

Tailored suit, the tie she had carefully chosen for him, and his tall frame that forced her to crane her neck to meet his gaze.

Kwon Tae-heon. Her husband. He had just come home.

Her heart pounded violently as she licked her dry lips.

“Why are you here?”

His voice was smooth and cold, like perfectly cut ice. Polished, sharp, and piercing.

It was her last chance to tell him the truth. I’m pregnant. It’s your child. Ours.

Her stiff tongue faltered as her parched lips stung, threatening to crack.

“I was cleaning the guest room,” she finally said.

“You could’ve asked someone else to do it. Why bother yourself?”

“I just… I had a lot on my mind. I wanted to move around a bit.”

Her clumsy excuse deepened the furrow in Tae-heon’s brow.

“Did something happen with my mother?”

“No,” she replied quickly.

“Did she come by the house?”

The air between them felt taut, like a wire stretched to its breaking point.

A Fragile Denial

Any attempt at denial was futile. Tae-heon caught the faintest hint of something wrong and pressed her relentlessly.

“While I wasn’t home?”

There was a flicker of anger in his question, faint but unmistakable. Ye-in swallowed hard. Kwon Tae-heon was that kind of man—someone who never tolerated deviations from what he deemed acceptable.

Her conversation with his mother replayed clearly in her mind. It wasn’t new; she’d heard it repeatedly since their marriage. Specifically, since the facade of their union had been exposed.

Tae-heon’s family wanted her gone. Divorce had been a constant demand, yet she had endured.

Had it not been for the pregnancy tests hidden under the bed, she might have continued to endure. But her thoughts kept circling back to them, and her restless movements betrayed her, drawing more attention to the guest room door.

“She just stopped by to drop off some side dishes and left,” Ye-in stammered.

Tae-heon frowned and, without hesitation, pushed past her and opened the guest room door. Before she could stop him, he stepped inside.

Tae-heon’s instincts were razor-sharp, almost animalistic. Sometimes, it frightened her how easily he seemed to uncover whatever she tried to hide.

Even though he had no reason to suspect anything, it felt like he’d lift the mattress and find the bag. Panicked, Ye-in grabbed his arm.

“Tae-heon,” she said, her voice shaky.

Her smaller frame struggled against his towering figure, and she ended up clinging to him, practically dragged along.

When their tangled steps nearly caused her to fall, Tae-heon clicked his tongue in irritation and caught her in his arms. His large hand steadied her back, and in his grasp, Ye-in felt a conflicting sense of relief. She feared Kwon Tae-heon, yet his touch somehow reassured her.

His breath grazed her temple, and their proximity was suffocating. If she tilted her head just slightly, she could see his face.

“What’s gotten into you today?”

His voice cut through the air, sharp as a blade. His scrutinizing gaze made her heart race erratically.

She couldn’t let him find out.

If he discovered she was pregnant, everything would get worse.

She couldn’t let this child grow up unloved, as she had.

“We should divorce,” Ye-in blurted out.

Hearing her own voice say it stunned her. How simple it was to say.

She had imagined this moment countless times, wondering how Tae-heon would react. Would he get angry? Demand an explanation? But he did neither.

Instead, his lips curled into a slight smirk. The sight of his derision made her stomach churn.

“Say that again. I must have misheard you.”

His tone was flat, almost indifferent, but the command in his voice stoked her defiance. She twisted in his arms, trying to break free.

“We should divorce. Your family doesn’t want me—Ah!”

Before she could take even one step back, his arm locked around her waist, holding her in place. His face leaned so close to hers she could feel his breath.

“What did she say to you this time?”

“Your mother has a point. She’s right—we deceived your family. This marriage is invalid—”

“Yes, she’s been repeating that same tired argument for a year now. So why today? What’s changed?”

His last words sounded less like a question and more like a murmur to himself.

Ye-in lowered her head to hide her expression, but Tae-heon caught her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“Did she hurt you again?”

His large hand trailed down the back of her neck, rough yet warm. With a sharp tug on her collar, the sound of a button popping echoed in the room, leaving her bra strap exposed.

“If she hurt you, you’d better tell me now,” he said, his voice firm and unyielding.

His burning gaze swept over her exposed skin, and Ye-in frantically shook her head. Despite years of sharing a bed with him, his touch still made her tense, her nerves stretched taut like strings about to snap.

“I told you, it’s not that,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “I’ve just decided—it’s time to stop.”

“So why now? Why today?”

Because I’m carrying your child.
Because I only realized it today.

The words screamed silently in her mind, yet her lips refused to speak them.

“What are you hiding?” Tae-heon asked, his voice low and piercing, as if he could strip away every layer of her defenses with just a glance. His gaze bore into her, unraveling her secrets, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable.

If he found out…

The memory resurfaced, sharp as a blade, slicing through her resolve.

This wasn’t their first child.

She hadn’t even known she was pregnant when they lost the first one. The thought of that child still pierced her heart like a dagger, the pain fresh and unrelenting.

She could still see herself sobbing uncontrollably on the hospital bed, while Tae-heon, cold and composed, stood beside her.

“It’s better this way,” he had said, his indifferent words cutting deeper than any wound.

She could still see herself sobbing uncontrollably on the hospital bed, while Tae-heon, dry-eyed and expressionless, stood beside her.

“It’s better this way,” he had said.

The child who had barely begun to grow was gone. If luck had been on her side, Ye-in might have been able to hold that child. If she had, would the child’s eyes have resembled Tae-heon’s? Even in the midst of her grief, the question lingered, refusing to let go.

Tae-heon hadn’t wanted children. That realization had left her hollow, the sense of loss cutting far deeper than the pain of a common early miscarriage.

Even in their fragile, loveless marriage, Ye-in had hoped that a child—if one ever came—would be welcomed. But her husband had been relieved there wasn’t one.

From that moment on, Tae-heon became obsessively careful about contraception.

“Have you met another man?”

The question snapped her out of her thoughts.

Ye-in opened her mouth, struggling to respond, her mind blank as she tried to make sense of his words. For a fleeting moment, she thought she might laugh—a hollow, misplaced sound that didn’t belong in this moment. How could someone, who could uncover any secret if he chose, ask something so ridiculous?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said finally, her voice steady but strained.

“Well,” he replied, his tone casual, but his actions anything but.

The force of his grip on her shirt intensified, and with a sharp snap, the buttons flew off.

Her apricot-colored bra was left completely exposed. Tae-heon brushed aside her hands as she frantically tried to pull the shirt closed.

“I’ll see for myself whether it makes sense or not,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, sending a chill down her spine.

The hands that tore off the flimsy silk shirt were practiced and deliberate. Ye-in, flustered, was pushed onto the bed. Despite being trapped in a loveless, political marriage, they had sex often—so often, in fact, that at times it felt excessive.

“Stop…” she murmured, her voice trembling.

Yein groaned as she struggled to push away the hand that was digging into her skirt. However, at best, he only managed to briefly grab hold of her wrist, which was much thicker than hers.

The vagina was held in one hand. Yein shivered at the sensation of her soft flesh being pressed. Taeheon’s eyes narrowed.

As I pressed against her thick mound over her underwear, a quick breath escaped between her lips. Unlike the harsh way he subdued her, the hand that groped her down there was terrifyingly gentle. My husband knew how to handle women. And he knew how to handle a tow truck.

When Tae-heon touched her, she became excited strangely quickly. As her husband said, Ye-in had a body that was easily aroused, and water flowed out of her in no time.

The feeling of her vagina getting wet and the flesh between her legs becoming soaking wet was always strange. Taeheon, who was playing with her protruding clitoris, pulled her damp underwear aside.

His fingers touched the vagina directly. When he spread the clenched labia, the fluid that had been collected inside flowed out. Taeheon clicked his tongue.

“Ugh…”
“It’s so wet, I can’t even tell if someone else has been touching you or not.”

Ye-in’s face flushed crimson at Tae-heon’s words. Someone who rarely cursed or used crude language in everyday life would turn utterly explicit in bed. Tae-heon, of course, found her embarrassment amusing, watching her reaction with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“You’re acting really strange today. You’re not even whining or telling me to stop saying inappropriate things.”
“Pfft, when have I ever… done that?”
“You always do.”

A finger squeezed into the tight vaginal opening. The thick, callused finger was already cramped into the hole. Every time the soft mucous membrane was rubbed, Yein gasped softly.

“You’re always testing my patience.”

I could feel the juice leaking out from inside soaking my fingers. As a second finger entered the slippery hole, my thighs trembled with excitement. Unable to do anything about my legs, I pushed the sheet with my toes and swallowed the sound of my vagina bursting out.

Tae-heon, who took out his penis and rubbed it faster than usual, looked as if he was in a hurry as he said. It was fortunate, on the contrary. When she felt like it, her husband would tease her for a long time, driving her to orgasm just by playing with his hands.

“Slowly… slowly, please.”
Even so, I couldn’t stop myself from pleading. My husband’s erection was overwhelming in size—enough to leave me dazed. I knew all too well the sensation of being stretched and torn apart by it. And yet, despite myself, I felt the wetness return between my legs.