On the table: folders, printouts, tablets, open chats, frozen surveillance footage. Cha-yeon flips through the files, tense. Temu stands by the window, like he's hiding from something—maybe even from himself.
Cha-yeon:
"This isn't a leak. It was deliberate.
Too clean. Too fast."
Temu:
"Yes."
Cha-yeon:
"You knew?"
He slowly turns to face her, his eyes drifting off again.
Cha-yeon:
"Temu. It was someone from the police.
Who are you connected to?"
Temu:
"No one. It's not that simple."
Cha-yeon:
"We traced it to Officer Kang.
She contacted the press just before the rumors hit.
She also handled the florist case.
And she shut it down. Unfinished."
Temu:
"I know."
Cha-yeon:
"What?!
You knew and said nothing?"
Temu:
"Because there's a reason.
If you knew everything… it would hurt more than this."
Cha-yeon:
"It already hurts, Temu.
This is my life. My name. My family.
How could you decide to stay silent when everything's falling apart?"
He says nothing for a long moment.
Temu:
"Because Officer Kang isn't just a cop.
She's part of the system that was supposed to protect you.
And instead… she used your name as bait."
Cha-yeon slowly sinks into the chair.
Cha-yeon:
"So this wasn't just about the florist?
Not some coincidence?"
Temu:
"No. It was a trap.
And I didn't want you involved.
I thought if I kept quiet… you'd stay safe."
Cha-yeon:
"But I'm already in it."
They look at each other. For a long, quiet moment.
Cha-yeon:
"Then let's get to the bottom of it. Together.
No more silence."
...
She picked up her phone to silence the notifications—
But the headlines were everywhere.
"Cha-yeon, wife of Han Corp's heir, is pregnant. Confirmed by a source close to the family."
Her fingers trembled.
She hadn't told anyone.
She wasn't pregnant. Not now. Not in the coming months.
She hadn't even said it out loud to herself.
Slowly, she stood up and slipped on her coat.
The taxi driver asked her something, but she just held up the address.
It was her old neighborhood.
A place that smelled like fried oil, damp mops, and the weight of time.
Everything felt the same—the cracked puddles, the corner shop where she used to buy mint candies one by one.
The air was thick with simplicity.
She walked into a small café. At the window, Mi-seon, an old high school friend she hadn't seen in over five years, was already waiting.
Her coffee was cold. Her face was colder.
Mi-seon:
" You're in the news now, Cha-yeon."
Cha-yeon:
"Not by choice."
Mi-seon:
"You didn't reply to me for four years. Now you want to talk?"
Cha-yeon:
"I'm trying to find who started the lie. Who spread the rumor? Who even knew?"
Mi-seon took a slow sip, then stared out the window.
Mi-seon:
"Kang Seong-a. Remember her? Used to work in the mayor's office. She's an officer now. Special unit. She has connections."
And rumor has it… someone from Han Corp is helping her.
Cha-yeon (softly):
"You think my husband?"
Mi-seon:
"I said nothing. But you're not stupid."
On the way back, Cha-yeon stared at the apartment windows flashing past.
In each one—someone's life.
Lights on. A man shaving. A woman gutting fish. A child watching cartoons.
She thought to herself:
"Too rich for the poor. Too foreign for the rich."
"The world doesn't say my name anymore. I'm just 'Han Temu's wife.'"
Han Temu had already returned to the hotel.
She found him in the business lounge, perched on the windowsill, phone in hand.
She walked in quietly, but he noticed her instantly.
Temu:
"You found out?"
Cha-yeon:
"About Kang? Yes."
Temu:
"You made it to her, huh?"
Cha-yeon:
"Why didn't you tell me? You knew. Why didn't you say anything?"
Temu:
"Because you don't understand how these things work. We have our own ways."
Cha-yeon:
"You're not 'we.' You're my husband."
He looked at her. For a long time. As if he wanted to say something.
Or stop himself. But he did neither.
Temu:
"Then who are you?"
The words dropped like a stone.
And silence followed.