MYFL | Chapter 5.2

He went straight up to the rooftop room. Only after entering the empty house did Beomchan let out the breath he had been holding, panting heavily.

His legs gave out. He sat down on the threshold without even taking off his shoes. He bent his back, resting his forehead on his raised knees. His hands trembled as he rubbed his forehead.

This can’t be happening.

His ears were ringing. Was he dreaming? That seemed more realistic. There was no way Seungjae wouldn’t have told him such an important fact.

When the shock exceeds what one can handle, it’s natural to deny reality. There’s no way, he thought, that Seungjae would have deceived him while watching him suffer.

He remembered the confessions he had cried and vomited out on the rooftop, unable to overcome his guilt. Seungjae had tried to say something after hearing those confessions.

— Beomchan, actually—

Beomchan never asked what would have come after that. He was scared and wanted to run away. But if this was what Seungjae had been trying to say, he should have told him.

Looking back, Seungjae never mentioned having a husband. It was just Beomchan’s assumption after seeing Woojoo and the ring. But that didn’t mean Seungjae hadn’t deceived him. He knew exactly why Beomchan hesitated and felt sorrowful, yet he didn’t say anything. He kept his mouth shut, waiting for Beomchan to give up.

The nights spent in self-loathing flashed through his mind. Even though he knew he shouldn’t, his imagination went too far, making him wonder if he was someone who shouldn’t love anyone.

He was angry. It was surprising that he could feel this angry even after liking someone so much. The betrayal felt as big as his affection. If what the real estate manager had heard was true—if Seungjae had been divorced for over a year—it meant he had been alone from the start.

There was no spouse to make him happy, so all he could do was imagine such things.

He resented Seungjae for not telling him, even while watching him suffer. He resented him as much as when he disappeared from his sight overnight eight years ago. No—even more.

He had never accepted his sincerity sincerely, always avoiding and dodging. Beomchan knew Seungjae was that kind of person, but that didn’t mean he could accept it without feeling anything.

He understood why Seungjae did it. Knowing too well made it even more sorrowful. The more he thought about it, the clearer the reason for not telling him became.

How many times do I have to be rejected? he thought.

⋆˚🐾˖°

Seungjae, who had just woken up, let his upper body fall back onto the bed with a thud. He covered his eyes with one arm and groaned. He had been feeling off lately—his headaches worsening, his condition poor—and as soon as he opened his eyes, he felt the heat of a fever.

Could it be that he had caught the cold Beomchan had? Even though he was only covered with a single blanket, his body felt as heavy as if it were weighed down by lead. He reached up, groping for his phone on the bedside. Picking it up from the wireless charger, he brought it into view. He wanted to fall back asleep, but he couldn’t.

The person Seungjae called was his twin sister, Seungyeon. She was the only person he could ask to look after Woojoo when something happened to him—like now.

― Hey, what’s up?

“Can you watch Woojoo today?”

― What’s with your voice? Do you have a cold?

Seungyeon asked, noticing something was off.

“Seems like it.”

― What about kindergarten? Did you send him?

“Not yet, I need to.”

― Just leave it. I’ll come over.

Seungjae had planned to take Woojoo to the entrance of the apartment complex, where the kindergarten vehicle would pick him up. He thought that no matter how bad he felt, he could at least manage that. But hearing Seungyeon say she’d come over brought him immediate relief, a clear sign that he really wasn’t feeling well. Seungjae thanked her and ended the call.

He suddenly wondered when he and Seungyeon had become this close.

He hadn’t known many twins in his life, but they generally seemed to get along well. They would always hang out together, asking friends to guess who was who, and often played pranks in front of teachers. However, Seungyeon and Seungjae—perhaps because they were of different genders—never stuck together during their school days.

Even though they attended the same schools, they didn’t acknowledge each other unless it was something significant—like handing over something forgotten at home or conveying a message from their mom. At home, they were too busy retreating to their own rooms. Other siblings who fought all the time seemed closer than they were.

Ironically, their relationship began to change after their parents’ divorce. More precisely, when they both felt a shared responsibility to protect their mom.

After their mom’s death and Seungjae’s divorce, Seungyeon and Seungjae finally became like real siblings. They had never expressed themselves to each other before, so they couldn’t speak warmly, but they relied on each other, worried about each other, and helped each other when needed.

The only family left.

When Seungjae decided to divorce, Seungyeon was angrier than anyone else—even more than Seungjae himself. Unlike Seungjae, who didn’t shed a tear, Seungyeon cried out of anger and checked in on Woojoo and Seungjae every day for a while.

That’s why Seungjae wanted to be where Seungyeon was. And she wanted that too. Without Seungyeon, Seungjae would never have been able to start doing what he wanted with peace of mind.

Not long after, the sound of the door lock being released echoed through the quiet space. Familiar footsteps approached. Instead of showing her face to him first, she opened Woojoo’s door. From beyond the closed master bedroom door, the sound of Woojoo—who had just woken up—following Seungyeon’s instructions to head to the bathroom together could be heard.

Seungjae closed his eyes and wrapped his shivering body tightly in the blanket.

“Abeoji…”

A little later, Woojoo, already changed into his clothes, stood carefully by the bed and called Seungjae. At the sound of his voice, Seungjae struggled to lift his eyelids.

In front of him was Woojoo’s face, his eyes drooping as if he were about to cry.

“Abeoji, are you very sick?”

“I’m okay, so don’t worry and go to kindergarten well with your aunt. Got it?”

Woojoo nodded obediently, but couldn’t hide the worry in his eyes.

“I’m sorry I can’t take you.”

At Seungjae’s continued words, Woojoo shook his head vigorously. Then, just as Seungjae had done for him when he was sick, Woojoo held Seungjae’s large hand tightly with his small hands and began massaging it.

Seeing this, Seungjae felt a pang in his heart. He patted the child’s hair a couple of times before gesturing toward the door.

While Woojoo returned to his room to bravely pack his kindergarten bag on his own, this time, Seungyeon came in.

“Did Woojoo eat?”

Seungjae asked.

“Yeah, just whatever was there.”

“Make sure Woojoo washes his hands. Don’t want him catching a cold.”

“Got it. But why the sudden cold?”

“Exactly.”

Seungyeon looked at Seungjae silently before speaking.

“It’s not the cycle, is it?”

Seungjae’s hand, which was massaging his stiff neck, paused. Only after hearing Seungyeon’s words did he consider the possibility that it might be due to the heat cycle. Seungjae murmured softly, “Ah.”

“Is it that?”

“Where’s your mind these days?”

Seungyeon sighed deeply and scolded him. Forgetting about the cycle, of all things. Even Seungjae found it ridiculous, so he understood why she reacted sharply.

“I was too busy to think about it.”

“The medicine?”

“There’s some left.”

“I’ll have Woojoo sleep at our place tonight, so check your condition in the evening and let me know. There’s porridge on the table, so eat it before it gets cold.”

“Thanks.”

“Call if anything happens.”

“Okay.”

Seungyeon left, and the door closed. Soon, the bustling sounds outside the room disappeared with the sound of the front door closing.

Finally alone, Seungjae contacted Yeonji to say he might not be able to make it today. When he suggested closing after the morning, she reassured him, saying it was fine and that she could handle it alone.

Doing the work of two people alone couldn’t be as easy as it sounded. Only after repeatedly telling her to leave early if it got tough did Seungjae end the call.

He lay down with his back to the door and curled up. With the presence of the child, Seungyeon’s voice, and the café work—all the things that had been making him tense—gone, he finally felt a sense of peace. But at the same time, he felt incredibly lonely.

What am I supposed to do?

He thought it would be nice to have someone by his side, but when it actually happened, he wanted to be alone again. Even he found himself difficult to please.

After a nap, he’d find out whether it was a cold or the cycle. He pulled the blanket over his head. Perhaps due to the fever, his heartbeat sounded unusually loud. Using that sound as a lullaby, he fell asleep.

⋆˚🐾˖°

The sky visible through the window next to the bed was dark. Instead of getting better, his condition worsened. His whole body was drenched in sweat.

Even though he hadn’t had a nightmare, he woke up with shortness of breath. Like someone who had just done intense exercise, his chest expanded and contracted to its limit with every breath.

It was a heat cycle.

The heat that had been subtly present only in his head now spread throughout his body. Just the touch of the blanket against his skin made him groan. He hadn’t eaten anything bad, yet his stomach churned as if he were about to vomit.

Every smell was nauseating and unpleasant—even the scent of the diffuser he liked.

“Ugh…”

He barely managed to sit up in bed. He needed to find the suppressant. Once the heat cycle fully started, the medication wouldn’t work well. Moreover, taking it too late could cause side effects, so it was safer to take it in advance.

He staggered to the dresser in the master bedroom. With one hand clutching his throbbing head, he opened the top drawer with the other. That was where he kept the emergency medicine.

Leaning halfway against the dresser, Seungjae started rummaging through it. In his urgency, he checked whatever he grabbed—painkillers, digestive aids, ointments, and band-aids, all mixed up despite his efforts to keep them organized.

He couldn’t afford to worry about such things. Finding the suppressant was the priority. The heat kept rising, spreading relentlessly through his body. His movements grew more frantic.

After searching for a long time, Seungjae finally stopped. He stared blankly at the mess inside the drawer, his expression dazed and confused.

The medicine wasn’t there.