Suho was back in the gym again.
He hadn't missed a single day since Hauen disappeared. Not one. The clang of metal, the burn in his muscles, and the strict routine were the only things keeping his mind from breaking apart.
Her handwritten workout chart still hung on the wall. The paper had faded slightly, the edges curling, but he never removed it. Even though his routine had changed, even though the diet plan no longer matched what was written there, he kept it like a quiet vow. A reminder that once, someone had cared enough to plan his healing with her own hands.
He finished his last set, breathing hard, sweat dripping down his temples. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at her handwriting.
His chest tightened. Then life pulled him back.
Mr. and Mrs. Kang had been staying in the penthouse ever since Mr. Kang's discharge from the hospital.
The house felt different now. Quieter. Heavier. But also… warmer in a fragile way.
Bora placed a tray gently in front of Mr. Kang. "Sir, your breakfast."
Mr. Kang gave her a faint smile. Mrs. Kang came and sat beside him, carefully handing him the tablets prescribed by the doctor. Her movements were slow, protective, as if afraid even time itself might hurt him again.
He looked better these days. Not healed, but steadier.
Suho had made sure of that.
He entered the dining area already dressed for work, his tie loosened slightly. Today, he wanted to have breakfast with them.
"Good morning, yeorobon," he said softly.
Mrs. Kang looked up and smiled. "Good morning, Suho."
"Morning, son," Mr. Kang greeted, his voice still carrying fatigue but less despair.
Suho pulled out a chair. "How are you feeling today, appa?"
Bora served Suho his breakfast and quietly stepped away.
Mr. Kang gave a small, tired smile. It didn't reach his eyes.
Suho noticed immediately. "What happened, appa?" he asked gently.
Mr. Kang hesitated, then spoke. "Tomorrow is Hyunwoo's court trial. I missed the last one. I… don't know what to do."
Suho inhaled deeply, then nodded. "If you want to attend, I'll arrange everything," he said calmly. "But only if you promise me you won't stress yourself. Your health comes first."
Mr. Kang looked at him, as if weighing his words. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Suho noticed. "If you want to say something, please say it," he said softly. "Don't hesitate, appa."
Mr. Kang lowered his gaze. "We're grateful to you, Suho," he said slowly. "But… we don't want to be a burden on you. We want to go back to our home. At least until the final verdict comes. Until there's some conclusion."
Suho's eyes dropped to his plate. "You're not a burden, Appa," he said after a moment. "Never think like that."
He paused, then added, "I'm trying to find Hauen. I will find her. One day. And when I do, everything will be okay."
His voice trembled slightly at the end, betraying the certainty he wanted them to believe in.
Because the truth was, he didn't know.
He didn't know where she was. Or how she was surviving. Or whether she was even alive.
And every time his mind wandered too far in that direction, panic wrapped around his heart like a vice.
"Next week, I'm going to New York for Mirae's first outlet opening," he continued, steadying himself. "Until then, stay here. Relax. As for your factories… I spoke with the bank officials. The funds are cleared. They'll reopen soon."
Mr. Kang's eyes filled instantly. "Why would you—"
"I cleared it with my own savings," Suho interrupted gently. "It's the small service I can do. Focus on your health. If you want to work later, you can. Otherwise, I'll handle it."
Mr. Kang broke down, unable to form words. And then—
A sharp voice sliced through the calm like glass.
"Oh, so you have time to look after your so-called in-laws, but not enough to have a proper dinner with my family?"
Yerin's voice echoed through the hallway. All three turned toward her.
She walked in, heels clicking sharply against the floor, her eyes burning."I wonder what kind of magic that bitch cast on you," she sneered, "that even after everything, you're still taking her side."
Suho's jaw tightened.
"Ever since that slut entered your life," Yerin continued, her words spilling like poison, "my life was destroyed."
Then she turned towards Mr. and Mrs. Kang, "Don't you have even a little shame, sitting in front of my man after everything your murderer daughter and son did to him?"
"Yerin," Suho stood up sharply.
"You don't talk, Suho," she snapped, raising her hand. Her eyes locked onto Hauen's parents, hatred blazing. "How can you even show your face to him? No wonder you raised that bitch."
"Shut up, Yerin," Suho roared. "Mind your language."
She flinched.
For the first time, his voice had risen against her. Not calm. Not gentle.
Her eyes filled instantly. "Did you just… raise your voice at me?" she whispered, shattered.
Suho froze, anger still coursing through him.
She laughed bitterly, tears spilling freely. "Wow. What a surprise. Yerin… this day finally came."
His anger drained, replaced by regret. "Yerin—"
"Don't," she backed away. "Don't come near me. I was a fool to wait for you all these years. And today… Today I got my answer."
Her voice broke. "What was my fault, Suho? That woman caused your accident. She tried to separate us. She made me leave you. I was scared. I was broken. So yes, I ran away. But I never forgot you, Suho. I came back for you."
Her voice rose in anguish. "And what do I see? The man I loved lived for the woman who destroyed us. Even now, after knowing her truth, you're still choosing her. Why?" She yelled.
Suho stood frozen, words failing him.
"I'm done," she said finally, wiping her tears. "Live your life, Suho. With her memories. I won't bother you anymore. Goodbye."
She turned and walked away.
Suho's heart ached watching her leave. He had loved her once. Deeply. And that soft corner still existed, painful and unresolved.
Mr. and Mrs. Kang looked at him, stunned and shaken.
Suho inhaled slowly, forcing composure.
"I'm sorry, appa. I'm sorry, Ommonim," he said quietly. "On her behalf."
He picked up his bag. "Please take care. I need to go."
And with that, he left the house, carrying yet another weight he never asked for.