Scars that Healed Us

I am pregnant. 

He couldn't form words, his mind spinning in confusion, unaware of how to react to the gravity of the situation. Wasn't her suspicion right all along? He would never accept the baby. He hated her from the core of his heart, so why now? Why this hesitation, this gnawing feeling that rooted him to the spot? A lump formed in his throat, and as he swallowed it down, the weight of the realization hit him like a sledgehammer: he was the father of this child. His eyes locked on her, his expression unchanged, but inside, the storm raged—thoughts shifting and colliding like broken fragments of glass.

She stood before him, her gaze fixated on the ground as if it held all the answers she sought. But she knew, deep down, what was coming. The inevitability of it crushed her spirit. She had prepared herself for the harsh words that would follow, for the cold, calculated decision that would strip her of her choice. He would force her to abort, she was sure of it. It was all he had ever wanted, wasn't it? To rid himself of any attachment to her, any tie that could bind him to a future he never asked for.

Then came his voice, dripping with sarcasm he made no attempt to hide. "Oh, is that so?" The words lingered in the air, a chilling prelude to what would follow. He looked at her with an expression she couldn't quite read, his lips curling into a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Congratulations, Mrs. Jeon," he added, his tone unreadable, a strange mix of mockery and indifference. "We're going to become parents."

The statement sent shockwaves through her. Her heart pounded against her chest, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe. The words were spoken, but they didn't make sense—why wasn't he telling her to get rid of it? Why wasn't he shouting, threatening, demanding that she end this pregnancy? The question throbbed in her mind, relentless and unanswered.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze, her eyes searching his for some sign of what was happening, something that would explain this sudden change. Was this a trick? A cruel game to make her feel vulnerable before he ripped everything away? She looked at him, their eyes meeting in a tense, unblinking stare. Her voice barely a whisper, she asked, "Don't you hate me?"

A smirk formed on his face, sharp and menacing, as though her question had been expected. He already knew the answer, had always known it, and now he was going to make sure she did too. His eyes bore into hers with an intensity that made her feel like he could see straight through her, as if her vulnerability was nothing more than a pathetic display to him.

"Why would I hate you?" he replied, his voice unnervingly calm. Confusion clouded her thoughts, and a frown deepened on her face. What was he saying? Was he trying to manipulate her, mess with her emotions, or had something truly shifted in him? Before she could even begin to process his words, he delivered the blow that shattered her completely.

"Hate is also a feeling, Mrs. Jeon," he said, his voice cold, sharp like a blade sliding into her soul. "And I don't feel anything for you. Not love, not hate, not jealousy—nothing."

The cruelty of his words slammed into her, leaving her breathless. She stumbled backward as though his declaration had physically struck her, tears welling up in her eyes, blurring her vision. His words echoed in her mind, cutting deeper and deeper with each repetition. The absence of feeling was worse than hate, more devastating than any rage he could have unleashed. He didn't care enough to hate her. To him, she was nothing, a void, a person he couldn't even be bothered to despise.

Her legs felt weak, and she wavered, as if the ground beneath her was crumbling away. She wanted to scream, to demand why he was doing this to her, why he was dragging her through this agony. But she couldn't find the strength. His indifference, more suffocating than the anger she had braced herself for, had left her utterly powerless.