🍁Chapter 4: The Lie That Protected Her
Jiwoo's brows furrowed as she looked between the man standing beside her hospital bed and the small boy who had just moments ago clung to her hand and called her Momma with tearful joy.
Her voice was soft, almost trembling.
"Momma? Appa? Who... who are you guys?"
Her eyes darted nervously across the sterile room, the heart monitor quickening in tandem with her rising panic. Her hand clutched the blanket near her chest as if it could shield her from the confusion rapidly crashing into her like waves.
Seojun felt a deep sting at her words, but he forced a calm smile, keeping his voice gentle and even.
"Nothing to worry about, Miss Jiwoo," he said, his heart twisting at how foreign her own name sounded from his lips now. "I'll explain everything. I promise."
Then he looked down at the little boy still standing beside the bed, his small fingers curled at his side as he stared up at the woman he had longed to meet.
Seojun crouched beside his son and looked into his big, watery eyes.
"Baby," he said softly, brushing a hand through Taehyun's dark hair, "I need you to go outside for a little while with PA Uncle, okay? Appa will come to you very soon."
Taehyun looked reluctant for a moment, his gaze flicking back to the woman in bed—his mother—then to his father. But he nodded bravely.
"Okay, Appa," he whispered.
He turned slowly, walking toward the door where Seojun's assistant stood waiting. But just as he reached the threshold, he paused.
With one final glance back, he raised a small hand and blew a flying kiss toward Jiwoo.
Her eyes widened, caught off guard by the gesture.
Then, the boy left.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Seojun exhaled slowly and turned back toward Jiwoo. She was still watching the door, her confusion deepening, her breathing slightly shaky.
"Miss Jiwoo," he began cautiously, "I understand how strange all of this must feel right now."
"I think 'strange' is an understatement," she said with a dry, unamused chuckle. "Can I get a real explanation? What's going on here? Why am I in a hospital bed with a stranger calling me Momma?"
Seojun pulled a chair to the side of her bed and sat down, maintaining a respectful distance.
"I'm Kim Seojun," he said with a light nod. "I was the chief guest at your art exhibition. You collapsed during the event, so we rushed you here."
Her brows furrowed again. "But... why were you the one to bring me? What about the exhibition? Wasn't it still going on?"
Seojun nodded. "It was. Your manager made sure everything ran smoothly after you were taken here. As for why I brought you... your manager is actually an old friend of mine. He asked me to step in so he could handle the event without worrying about you."
It was a white lie—but one rooted in the doctor's instructions. If she wasn't ready to face her past, then she couldn't yet know who he truly was.
Even if it meant pretending to be a stranger to the woman he loved.
Jiwoo sighed, leaning back into the pillows. "I'm so sorry. This must've been incredibly inconvenient for you. You flew all the way from Korea and ended up getting pulled into a mess because of me."
Seojun smiled faintly, hiding the pain behind warmth. "It's no trouble at all, Miss Jiwoo. You don't have to apologize."
She gave him a grateful glance, but the flicker of unease remained in her eyes.
Then her expression turned curious again. "And... the little boy? Earlier. Who was he?"
Seojun's jaw tensed for the slightest second—but he quickly schooled his features into something calm.
"He's my son," he said gently. "His name is Taehyun."
"Oh," Jiwoo whispered, looking down. "I'm sorry for asking so bluntly. He's such a sweet boy. But he… he seemed so sure that I was his mother."
Seojun nodded slowly. "Yes… he did. His mother…" he trailed off, then sighed. "She left us a long time ago. It's been difficult for him. You resemble her—very much—so I think he mistook you for her."
Jiwoo's face softened with sorrow. "I see… Poor thing. That must be hard for him."
"It is," Seojun admitted, though he left unsaid just how hard. "He's just a child. He misses her every day. But I'll explain everything to him properly."
She looked away for a moment, her expression unreadable. "He looked… so happy. For a moment, I felt like I should know him. It's strange."
Seojun's heart skipped at her words.
Maybe… some part of you does.
He stood and gave her a small nod. "You must be tired. You've had a rough day. Get some rest. I'll be just outside if you need anything."
Jiwoo was about to speak, her lips parting to say something to the mysterious Mr. Kim, when a sharp knock broke the calm in the hospital room.
Knock knock.
The door creaked open, and in came a whirlwind of energy in a tailored suit.
"Jiwoo!" came the voice—sharp, worried, and familiar. "Why aren't you taking care of yourself? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!"
Park Jimin, the investor behind Jiwoo's gallery and her ever-loyal friend, strode into the room like a storm, his eyebrows furrowed and his arms already waving in exasperation.
"Your manager called me! Said you fainted right in the middle of the exhibition hall! What were you even thinking?"
Jiwoo blinked in surprise, then laughed softly, her chuckle filling the room like wind chimes.
"Relax, Jimin," she said, her voice light despite the lingering confusion in her gaze. "I'm fine. Really."
The scolding halted instantly.
Jimin paused mid-rant, his eyes softening the moment he saw her smile. He sighed, hands falling to his sides.
"Well, as long as you're smiling like that, I guess I can't stay mad," he muttered, clearly still worried but slightly placated.
Just then, Seojun—standing silently—stepped forward, clearing his throat.
"Hello, Mister…?"
Jimin turned toward the voice and blinked, as if finally noticing the other presence in the room.
"Oh! Mr. Kim!" Jimin smiled quickly. "Jiwoo's manager told me about you. Thank you for taking her to the hospital. I really appreciate it."
Seojun gave a small nod. "It was nothing. I just did what anyone would've done."
But his next words were anything but casual.
"Sorry if I sound a bit forward, but… how do you two know each other?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm, though the way his fingers twitched at his sides gave away the subtle flare of jealousy burning under his skin.
Jimin raised an eyebrow at the directness but replied smoothly, "We're friends. I'm also one of the major investors in her gallery."
A slow breath escaped Seojun's chest. "Ah… I see. Nice to meet you."
"Likewise," Jimin replied with a friendly smile.
From her bed, Jiwoo observed the exchange, slightly puzzled at the strange tension in the air.
Then, as if the moment were dust swept under the rug, she tried to shift herself up and swung her legs slightly over the bed's edge.
"I think I should leave now," she said, adjusting her hospital gown. "I need to be at the exhibition. It's important."
At once, Seojun stepped forward, alarmed.
"No, Jiwoo—" he caught himself quickly, "—Miss Jiwoo, the doctor said you need to rest. You fainted, remember? You shouldn't leave until this evening at the earliest."
His voice was firm, a little too desperate.
Jiwoo blinked. "But—"
Even Jimin raised an eyebrow, catching the urgency in Seojun's voice.
"He's right," Jimin chimed in. "You need to rest. I'll check in on the exhibition for you. And maybe I should call your father too—he should know about this."
"No!" Jiwoo said a bit too quickly, her eyes wide. "Don't call Appa. He'll only worry. I'll be fine."
"But how will you manage alone?" Jimin asked with concern.
Before Jiwoo could answer, Seojun stepped in.
"I can stay," he offered, trying to sound casual but already bracing for rejection. "I don't have anything urgent right now. And… well, we're almost friends now, aren't we?" He added with a polite smile, trying to mask the hope in his voice.
Jiwoo looked torn. "Mr. Kim, you've already done enough. I've caused you too much trouble."
"It's really no trouble," Seojun said sincerely.
Jimin smirked, arms folded. "I think you should let him stay."
Jiwoo turned to him, clearly surprised by his sudden push.
"What?" she asked suspiciously.
Jimin shrugged, smile turning mischievous. "I mean, if he's volunteering, let the man be your knight in shining armor."
"Jimin!" she gasped, scandalized.
Seojun cleared his throat, awkward but amused. "Miss Jiwoo, it's really okay. If you're uncomfortable, I completely understand."
Jiwoo hesitated. Her eyes flicked to Seojun, who stood there waiting patiently, his presence oddly reassuring. After a moment, she sighed.
"No, Mr. Kim… It's not that. I'm not uncomfortable. I guess… it's just a few hours, right? So… you can stay."
Jimin clapped his hands. "Well then, problem solved!"
Seojun smiled gently. "Thank you. I'll step out for a moment and bring Taehyun in. He'll be happy to know you're awake."
As he exited the room, Jiwoo turned to Jimin, narrowing her eyes.
"You little scoundrel! Why were you smiling like that?"
Jimin wiggled his brows and grinned wider. "Oh, no reason. Just… don't you think he likes you?"