Chapter 15

The breakfast table was set for only one person.

“What about you?”

“I’m not in the mood for breakfast today.”

“Ah, really?”

“Yeah. Work’s been busy lately, so I’ll head out first. Ayeon.”

Jooheon lightly tapped her arm.

“Make sure you eat lunch, okay? You know I always worry about that, right? Whether you’re eating properly or not.”

With a self-satisfied look, he added how lucky the world was to have a husband like him, then headed to the living room to grab his bag.

He acted like worrying about her meals made him some kind of extraordinary man.

He had set the table this morning and now fancied himself an amazing husband.

He had long forgotten what she truly wanted from him.

“Jooheon.”

As he was walking toward the front door, Ayeon called out.

“Huh?”

He answered without slowing his steps.

“Will you be home late today?”

“Uh… no. Why?”

“Oh, I think I’ll be late.”

“Really?”

His expression was hard to read.

Somewhere between pleased and disappointed.

Noticing that, Ayeon found it difficult to act as if nothing was wrong, but she held herself together.

“Don’t push yourself too hard. So what if you don’t become a professor. You’ve got me.”

Jooheon slipped his feet into his shoes as he spoke.

So what if you don’t become a professor.

…You’ve got me?

Ayeon clenched her teeth unconsciously.

Who exactly are you to me.

And what do you think my long-held dream, and I, mean to you.

Everything he said and did suddenly felt unfamiliar.

Even chilling.

“By the way, you know we’re going to Yeonhui-dong tomorrow night, right? Don’t take your car to campus tomorrow. I’ll take care of your commute. I’ll escort you properly.”

“Oh… okay.”

“Then, I’m off.”

With the sound of the door closing, he disappeared, leaving the house in complete silence.

Ayeon blinked slowly, sitting still as her eyes fell on the breakfast he had set.

‘I’m not good at eating alone.’

‘Is that why you keep skipping lunch?’

‘That’s part of it…’

‘See, that’s why I get worried. Should I come to campus every day at lunchtime?’

‘That’s too much.’

‘Why? What’s wrong with making sure my wife eats?’

‘I can have lunch with my colleagues. Even if I skip a meal, I won’t die. But Sunbae…’

‘Hm?’

‘Let’s always eat breakfast together. That’s enough for me.’

‘Of course. We’re married now.’

Staring at the untouched food, Ayeon recalled the conversation they had early in their marriage.

The man from back then and the man before her now felt so different that she let out a hollow laugh.

The feeling soon shifted to something emptier.

She had told him many times that she didn’t like eating alone, though she’d never explained why.

It was something she didn’t want to dig up and show him.

To someone like Jooheon, who had grown up in a warm, well-off family, her story would probably have seemed incomprehensible.

He already pitied her life enough. She didn’t want to be pitied even more.

The sadness that couldn’t be expressed out loud had always been buried deep.

But now, for the first time in a long while, that sadness surfaced with a shaky breath.

In Proust’s In Search of Lost Time, the protagonist recalls his happy childhood memories when tasting a madeleine. The psychological “madeleine effect” comes from this.

She hadn’t even taken a single bite of the breakfast on the table, yet just seeing the empty seat across from her brought back childhood memories.

Unlike Proust’s protagonist, though, hers were sad.

Her memories with her mother, who had been her whole world, were few.

After her mother passed away, she was left in her maternal grandmother’s care. Those memories were clear.

What stood out the most were the times she ate alone.

Her mother had raised her alone and worked from dawn to dawn to make ends meet. Her grandmother was the same.

Back when her mother was alive, there were rare moments when they shared a good meal together. But after she was left with her grandmother, such memories disappeared completely.

A few meager side dishes and half a bowl of rice.

The food was cold and light, but when she swallowed, it felt hot and heavy.

The fact that she hadn’t sat across from anyone at a warm meal since her mother’s passing had always made her feel pitiful and hurt.

Whenever she ate alone, she would be reminded of that lonely time, and eating became difficult.

That was why she had asked Jooheon to always eat breakfast with her.

Looking at the empty seat across the table now, she felt a lump form in her throat.

“Why is that so hard.”

She muttered bitterly and bit her lip.

Before marriage, she often skipped breakfast and had lunch or dinner with friends or coworkers at school or at her part-time jobs.

She had often paid for her juniors’ meals, even when she couldn’t really afford it.

On the days she had no choice but to eat alone, she usually just didn’t eat.

She had once promised herself that if she ever had someone truly on her side in this world, other than her mother, she’d let go of that sadness.

Now she lived comfortably, with someone she believed was truly on her side. She had promised herself not to dredge up painful memories or struggle to eat alone anymore.

But today was different.

She might have everything materially, but she didn’t have a real ally anywhere in the world.

She shook her head and absentmindedly lifted the coffee cup to her lips, then immediately frowned.

Even a single sip of the strange-tasting coffee made her gag.

Maybe he had used different beans than usual. Or maybe the coffee had gone stale. Or perhaps it was just the lukewarm temperature.

Or maybe her taste had changed.

She caught her breath at the sink, then poured herself some cold water and drank it down.

She wanted the taste to disappear as quickly as possible.

* * *

She didn’t even remember how she got to campus.

When she came to her senses, she found herself in the parking lot, letting out a deep breath.

She sat in the car for a long moment, staring blankly ahead.

Was autumn just a fleeting season.

Everything felt hollow all of a sudden. Life itself felt meaningless.

Because of Yoon Jooheon.

She exhaled and stepped out of the car.

“Oh? Good morning.”

Someone greeted her.

It was Tae-eun.

Ayeon forced a bright smile.

“You’re early.”

“Yeah. The conference is right around the corner. I said I’d present, so now I’m in a panic. But you’re already prepared, right, Sun?”

“Mostly.”

“When you say mostly, it usually means you’re basically done.”

Tae-eun squinted and chuckled as the two of them walked side by side.

They were heading toward the department office.

As they walked down the Social Sciences building hallway, they saw a bustling lecture room through an open door.

A banner above the chalkboard read “Psychology Department Orientation.”

Inside, students in department jackets were arranging desks and setting up seats for the professors.

“Wow, turnout is huge this year.”

Tae-eun commented, and Ayeon replied.

“It’s probably because attendance counts toward class credit, so they can’t skip freely.”

“Is that really the reason?”

“Huh?”

A few years ago, attendance at department events had been so low that they started counting it as class participation, which greatly improved turnout.

But was there another reason this time.

“You know, registering for Professor Jin’s class filled up in one second.”

“Ah.”

Only then did Ayeon understand what Tae-eun meant.

Jin Sunwoo’s popularity was enough to draw students in voluntarily, regardless of attendance policies.

It made sense.

He had worked hard and lived diligently.

His passion and dedication to psychology had earned him the title of youngest professor, and he was respected by many.

His good looks didn’t hurt either.

Still, if they knew his true nature, they wouldn’t register so carelessly.

“Students don’t really know him yet. It’s just curiosity at this point.”

She scrunched her nose playfully.

“Why, what’s Jin Sunwoo like? Come to think of it, I never had any overlapping classes with him during undergrad.”