Here is the English translation of your story:
On a cold evening, Sophia was just about to fall asleep when she heard a muffled thud from the upper floor of her small countryside home. She turned to the ceiling in alarm, her heart pounding. Lee Da-in, her daughter, had returned only two days ago from the capital—pale, exhausted, and not uttering a word about the reason behind her condition. Sophia rose slowly, wrapped her woolen shawl around her shoulders, and climbed the wooden stairs with growing concern.
As soon as she opened the door, she froze in place.
Lee Da-in was lying on the floor, her face pale, sweat pouring from her forehead, and her faint moaning shattered the silence in half. In her arms was a baby wrapped in a gray blanket, and her eyes stared blankly—no tears, no screaming, only a silent shock that covered her face.
"Lee Da-in?!"
Sophia cried out and rushed to her, kneeling beside her and checking her pulse.
"What… what have you done?! Did you… did you give birth?!"
Lee Da-in whispered hoarsely,
"I don't… I don't want him… take him… take him away…"
But there was no time for argument. With trembling hands, Sophia picked up the newborn, wrapped him carefully, and held both her daughter and grandson in her arms as she ran to the old car parked outside. Minutes—just minutes—but they felt like an eternity before she reached the rural hospital.
In the emergency room, the doctor glanced between the girl and the baby, then turned to Sophia.
"Was she under medical care? This is serious—hemorrhaging, anemia…"
Sophia shook her head silently as the baby was taken to the nursery. The doctor looked at her sharply:
"This girl was on the verge of death. And the baby could've died too… Why wasn't she examined by a doctor? Who let it come to this?"
But Sophia didn't answer. She simply stared at her daughter, now lying pale on the white bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if she no longer belonged to this world.
The next day, Sophia returned home alone. Her heart boiled with endless questions. She had never imagined that her sweet, ambitious daughter would fall this low. But she wouldn't let this shame pass unpunished.
When Lee Da-in returned from the hospital, Sophia stormed into her room, slammed the door behind her, and glared at her, eyes blazing.
"Who is he? Who is the father of that child?!"
But Lee Da-in didn't answer. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, hands folded on her lap, silent.
Sophia stepped closer.
"Have you lost your mind?! How did you hide your pregnancy for all these months?! Who's the bastard who did this to you?!"
Lee Da-in mumbled weakly:
"It doesn't matter… I don't want the child… I don't even want to look at him…"
The slap echoed loudly.
Sophia's hand trembled, but she didn't regret it. She shouted:
"You don't get to refuse! This is a living being! This is your son! Tell me now—who is his father? Or I swear I'll throw you out of this house!"
A long silence… then a name slipped from her lips like a blade:
"Yoonjin…"
Sophia froze.
Yoonjin? CEO of Kwang Group? Lee Da-in's boss? A man in his mid-forties, married, father of three? That smiling hypocrite who always praised Da-in in meetings?
Sophia gasped, holding her forehead as though she had been slapped again.
"You… were with him?! And you knew he was married?!"
Lee Da-in whispered through tearful eyes:
"I didn't know… at first… then I found out… but I was stupid… I believed his promises…"
It wasn't long before Lily found out.
Lily, Yoonjin's wife—the iron lady. Co-owner of the company. A woman who showed no mercy. And when she learned that Lee Da-in had been involved with her husband, she completely lost it.
She still didn't know about the child.
She summoned Lee Da-in to her office on a bleak morning and confronted her with unbearable coldness.
"You're fired. Sign your resignation now. If you don't leave this company by tonight, there will be a formal investigation for abuse of authority."
Lee Da-in tried to explain, to cry, to plead—but Lily was deaf to it all.
"You think your affair with my husband gives you the right to stay here? You're wrong. I built this company, and I'll throw you out like trash."
Then she muttered:
"It's best if you leave the country… for good. Or else…"
Lee Da-in didn't know where to go.
A child in the NICU. No job. A ruined reputation. And a heavy shame that clung to her like a curse. She would sleep beside the window, crying until her pillow soaked, and no one heard her.
She didn't love the baby. Felt nothing toward him. She saw him as the reason for her downfall and was ashamed to look at his face. One night she told her mother:
"I wish he was never born… I don't want to be a mother… I don't deserve to be…"
But Sophia, though still angry, wasn't cruel. She said gently:
"Maybe you don't want him now… but one day, you'll realize he's the only thing that saved you from yourself."
A month later, they left.
They packed in silence. Left behind the capital, the noise, the shame—and headed toward a small, remote village at the edge of the mountains, where no one knew them, and no one would ask.
They rented a modest wooden house—two rooms and a small kitchen. Everything felt rustic, but the peace that filled the air began to heal the wounds of the past.
They searched for work and were accepted as assistants at a children's daycare. The mother taught language classes, while Lee Da-in cleaned, watched over the kids, and prepared meals.
It wasn't easy.
The children screamed. Chaos never stopped. But something changed as Jin began to grow.
On a quiet morning, while Lee Da-in was cleaning, Jin crawled toward her and lifted his arms.
"Mama…"
Time froze.
She stared at him, stunned. It was the first time he ever said that word. Her eyes filled with silent tears. She knelt down and hugged him tightly—as if, after all this time, she finally found herself.
From that day on, everything changed.
She smiled again. Walked with Jin in the gardens. Sang lullabies. She still cried every night—but now she cried out of love, not regret.
She told Sophia one day:
"Maybe he has no father… but I'll be everything to him. I'll be mother, father, and every story he'll ever need."
And now, two years later, she stands outside the school, holding Jin's tiny hand, his smile shining like the sun.
The past no longer haunts her. She no longer wears her guilt like a stone on her chest. She washed her soul with motherhood, and from the ashes, she built a new heart—
A heart that knows:
A mistake doesn't mean the end.
And the child she once hated…
Has become her beginning.