True Marriage After Divorce (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 7

Even after seeing the divorce papers Ah Rin left behind, and even after reading her note, Jae Hyuk couldn’t believe it.

He thought maybe, just maybe, Ah Rin was hoping he’d come looking for her.

Jae Hyuk was cornered into a position where he had no choice but to accept the reality that Ah Rin was truly gone.

Ji Yoon’s next words completely shattered him.

“I know you, Vice Chairman—you’ll use your power and money to track her down. But if you have even a shred of genuine feeling, please don’t. It’s Ah Rin’s final wish.”

Just then, the sound of the elevator, which had gone up and was now returning, signaled its arrival at the first floor.

Ji Yoon pressed the up button and continued.

“I’ll head in first. Please don’t hold the elevator. There’s nothing more I can tell you.”

Hearing her firm tone, Jae Hyuk decided not to hold Ji Yoon back any longer.

Once she’d made up her mind not to speak, Seo Ji Yoon wouldn’t say another word.

“Alright, I won’t force myself on her, just as you said, Manager Seo. But please deliver this one message to Ah Rin.”

The elevator doors began closing. Just before they shut completely, Jae Hyuk called out to Ji Yoon.

“Tell her I have something I really need to say to her. I won’t chase after her by force—I just need some time with her.”

The kind of thing you should’ve said while she was still by your side.

It was obvious—but he never did it.

The closer someone is, the more you should treasure them—but he hadn’t.

The unbearable reality of missing her yet being unable to see her was punishment for having taken Ah Rin’s presence for granted.

The elevator doors closed fully and shot upward quickly.

Jae Hyuk poured out his heart toward a place where the other person was already long gone.

“…I’m begging you.”

He was swallowed whole by belated regret and despair.

How much time had passed? Jae Hyuk got into his car, moving only his body, his mind blank. Nothing else came to him—only the fear of never seeing Ah Rin again filled his thoughts.

Jae Hyuk rested his forehead against the steering wheel, burying his face in his hands.

“Ah Rin…”

His emotions surged uncontrollably.

He couldn’t do anything, couldn’t see anything.

It felt as if his heart had been ripped out—completely hollow.

His eyes grew hot, and thick tears soon rolled silently down his cheeks.

“Haa…”

When was the last time he’d cried?

He hadn’t shed a single tear since becoming an adult—hadn’t even let his eyes well up.

He didn’t know what he truly wanted—only a foolish wish that this whole situation would vanish like a dream as soon as he opened his eyes.

“…Ah Rin.”

It was a name he’d never once called her gently.

If calling her this way was so simple, why had he been so cold all this time?

“Please come back…”

His unreachable words drifted uselessly into the air.

When Choi Ah Rin disappeared, Ban Jae Hyuk’s world collapsed.

She had been his entire world. Only now, far too late, did he realize that, without him noticing, she had become everything to him.

[This is the timeline separator]

Three years later.

Under a blue sky dotted with clouds as white as a painting, on Jeju Island—the iconic island of Korea.

At a spot overlooking Jeju’s pristine blue sea, crowds of people bustled about.

Dozens of people stood before a firmly closed door, snapping photos nonstop at the sign above it.

[Memoria.]

They were waiting for the opening of a dessert café that had risen to fame on social media, its name meaning “memory” and “recollection” in Italian.

Jeju Island was known for many famous eateries, and Memoria was the newest rising star in the dessert scene.

Nestled within a lively stone-walled alley, Memoria resembled a quaint French cottage straight out of a fairy tale, with its striking cobalt-blue roof, and had become a popular spot for Instagrammable photos.

After taking pictures for a long while in front of the granite stone wall alley, decorated with colorful, charming flowers, some in the crowd started chatting.

“Wow, I’m seriously excited! They only make limited quantities, remember? Last time I came, I went home empty-handed.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! And apparently, people on social media say the male owner is super handsome.”

“People who’ve actually seen the female owner say she’s absolutely beautiful too.”

At that moment, a window across the stone alley at Memoria opened. A man appeared through the gap.

His smile was just like sunlight in spring. Ah Rin spoke to him.

“Oppa, are they taking your picture again?”

“Let them. Go ahead and take it.”

“What? Now you’re acting like a celebrity? Heh.”

Suddenly, Ah Rin touched her own smiling lips with her fingers.

An everyday moment she could never have imagined just three years ago… She’d believed the wound from that day was pain that could never be healed.

She’d survived only thanks to Ji Yoon’s family.

For the first time, she felt as if she’d stepped into a real family—that sense of belonging calmed her heart.

He hadn’t shown up once in three years. So she never imagined—

that he might reappear and shake this everyday life of hers again.

[This is the timeline separator]

By 1 p.m., the flood of people who had poured in like a tide had vanished as quickly as they’d come.

“It’s already past one o’clock.”

Yoo Hyun said as he tidied up the now-empty display case.

“Yeah, earlier than we expected, Oppa.”

Ah Rin replied, gazing at the display case she’d filled to the brim that morning, now completely empty.

Having neatly arranged the baskets on the display shelf, Yoo Hyun took off his apron and placed it on the table.

“Today was tough. Good job, Ah Rin.”

Yoo Hyun turned to look back at Ah Rin.

“Yeah, you too, Oppa. Good job.”

Ah Rin sat down in a chair and answered while gently thumping her shoulders with small fists.

She stared blankly ahead. Ever since that morning, she’d felt dazed—as if a storm had swept through her mind.

“Not feeling great today?”

Yoo Hyun, who had moved behind Ah Rin, asked while firmly massaging her shoulders with his large hands.

“Huh? Oh, no—not really.”

“Then maybe you’re just exhausted.”

Ah Rin nodded at Yoo Hyun’s words.

“I just feel… out of it today.”

“Well, we did get way more customers than usual.”

Truthfully, it wasn’t because she was busy. She’d just felt strange since morning.

“You look gloomy.”

“You can’t fool Oppa. I’m just feeling… off today.”

“Why?”

“Hmm… Nothing bad happened, actually. A lot of people said nice things—so I should be happy, but…”

“Mm.”

“My heart feels restless and uneasy.”

“Something’s bothering you?”

“No, nothing’s really wrong. Hmm… I just feel a bit weird.”

Yoo Hyun continued massaging her shoulders gently and asked again.

“What could it be?”

“Well, it’ll probably pass soon. Oh—Oppa!”

Ah Rin turned toward Yoo Hyun behind her and waved her hand.

“Your hands hurt—it’s hard, so stop now, okay?”

He gently pulled away the hand she’d raised to stop him and smiled.

“I’m fine, you know that. When I give massages, I’m Seo Yoo Hyun. Isn’t this exactly why I work here?”

“What’s that supposed to mean…”

Ah Rin pouted slightly. Yoo Hyun, finding her adorable, gently tapped the tip of her nose with a soft “boop.”

“What I mean is, just accept whatever I do for you, President Choi Ah Rin.”

Ah Rin let go of his hand.

Truth be told, his touch had relaxed her tense muscles, melting away her accumulated fatigue and making her pleasantly drowsy.

“Thank you, Oppa.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Yoo Hyun’s smile was as bright as sunshine.

After her divorce, she’d come to Jeju determined to start anew—but after “that” incident, she’d completely fallen apart.

Crying every day led her to the point of doing something she shouldn’t have.

She’d once thought she’d never be able to live an ordinary life again. That she could live like this now—opening Memoria—was only possible because Yoo Hyun was there.

She hadn’t lived with him from the start. Two years ago, Yoo Hyun returned to Jeju after finishing his studies in France, and their little household grew from two to three.

Yoo Hyun was a classically trained pastry chef, and at a time when Ah Rin had felt as good as dead, he’d reignited her dreams—

through the desserts he made.

[Is this really made by you, Oppa?]

His egg tart was the best she’d ever tasted.

[Oppa, it’s just a strawberry cake—but why is it so delicious? It’s so good, so good… sniffle.]

It was merely an ordinary fresh-cream strawberry cake, yet with a single bite, tears poured freely from her eyes.

The moment its soft sweetness spread in her mouth, she’d felt—briefly—truly happy.

It amazed her that even in hell, she could still think, “This is delicious.”

Yoo Hyun had been a prodigy, having worked at a famous dessert shop even in France.

[Oppa, I want to try making bread. Just like you showed me the happiness that sweet desserts can bring, I want to share that with others too.]

He slowly taught her the craft. Thanks to him, though she still couldn’t make advanced pastries like canelés or croissants after two years, she’d mastered basic baking like cakes perfectly.

The pain was still there—but not as crushing, and no longer made her wish for death. It all began when they’d started running the shop.

“Oppa, thank you.”

And I’m sorry.

Ah Rin understood the true nature of Yoo Hyun’s feelings for her.

She knew he didn’t see her merely as his younger sister’s friend.

“Our Ah Rin has such a kind heart. Thank you for thanking me—that means a lot.”

His chestnut hair fluttered in the breeze, and a warm smile graced Yoo Hyun’s face—his long eyes curving sweetly like crescent moons.

His clear, brown eyes shimmered with deep, unmistakable emotion—no pretense whatsoever.

‘I’m sorry I can’t accept your feelings, Oppa.’

Yoo Hyun was a wonderful older brother—but she’d never once thought of him as a man.

At first, she’d subtly declined a few times, but Yoo Hyun had pretended not to notice.

At some point, they both began knowingly pretending not to know—

just like now.

Ah Rin put on an indifferent expression and opened her mouth as if nothing were wrong.

“Oppa, should we hire another employee?”

“Another employee?”

Yoo Hyun turned his gaze, but couldn’t stop his hands—he kept smoothing Ah Rin’s damp hair as he asked.

“…”

Ah Rin, seemingly resigned that she couldn’t refuse this too, spoke half-heartedly.

“I keep feeling bad that customers leave empty-handed.”

“Ah.”

He nodded in understanding.

Memoria’s golden rule was to sell only what they baked fresh that morning. They believed in making only as much as they could handle, to serve desserts at their best flavor.

“In the beginning, we barely had any customers, and more often than not, the unsold desserts ended up in our stomachs. It always hurt seeing leftovers.”

“That’s right.”

But as their fame grew, the situation reversed quickly. More and more customers tried to walk in even after closing hours, and each time, Ah Rin and Yoo Hyun had to robotically repeat their apologies.

Right then—

as Ah Rin spoke, the shop door chimed open, and customers entered.

“It’s already sold out?”

It was a scene that played out at least once every day.

Yoo Hyun pressed down gently but firmly on Ah Rin’s shoulder as she tried to stand, then walked over himself.

“What can we do? I’m so sorry—all our items sold out today.”

“Really? We came all the way to Jeju… Are you absolutely sure there’s nothing left?”

Disappointment crossed the customer’s face, but there truly was nothing left.

“Yes, I’m truly sorry. Please come back another time.”

“…Ah, I guess there’s nothing we can do.”

Ah Rin watched silently as the customer walked away, shoulders slumped in disappointment.

“You okay?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

Yoo Hyun patted Ah Rin’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Of course, no one comes to Jeju just for our shop—but it still weighs on me to add even a hint of disappointment to someone’s otherwise happy trip.”

Recalling the moment just now, Ah Rin’s heart sank again.