Introduction 2 - The Fall of the Dutiful Wife
Introduction 2 – The Fall of the Dutiful Wife
Clutching a laptop pouch beneath her arm, Da-in exited the apartment complex when her phone rang.
– Mother-in-law –
The name flashing on the screen made Da-in’s face twist in displeasure.
After her marriage, Da-in had been living in the same apartment complex as her mother-in-law. Once a day, like clockwork, the woman would visit her home as if it were her own — perhaps that explained the call.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Are you outside? I came by the house and you weren’t there. Where’s Seongmin?”
“Seongmin’s working right now, so he’s probably at the café—”
“You didn’t go to his café, did you?”
The already frosty voice grew even sharper.
Her husband, Hwang Seongmin, was two years older than her and the owner of a café. Da-in, a freelance designer, often worked in cafés — but she deliberately avoided her husband’s.
Having the owner’s wife lounging around would only make the employees uncomfortable.
Besides, Da-in herself preferred the anonymity of unfamiliar spaces.
“I didn’t go to a different café. I’m on my way there now.”
“How could you be so…”
A muttered phrase followed — a remark about growing up parentless and only ever thinking of herself.
Da-in bit her lip in silence.
“While you sit comfortably tapping away on your laptop, your husband is sweating to make a living — and you just waltz off to another café? If you were working nearby, you could help him when it gets busy. Doesn’t that make more sense?”
She disagreed. Entirely.
Even before marriage, and certainly now as someone’s wife, she believed she had the right to choose her workplace.
But three years into the marriage, she was tired. Tired of explaining. Tired of arguing.
“Yes.”
At least she was lucky.
Had she been home when her mother-in-law barged in uninvited, she would’ve been scolded for spending money outside when she could simply work from home.
To her, even a single cup of coffee Da-in drank while working felt wasteful.
“I left you some herbal medicine in the fridge.”
“Herbal medicine?”
Da-in had overlapping projects and was swamped.
She’d jokingly said she wished she had two bodies — she hadn’t expected her mother-in-law to actually make her medicine.
“Mother, tha—”
“Seongmin’s been looking so pale lately! Because his wife isn’t taking care of him properly! You’re truly blessed, you know that? What kind of mother-in-law lives next door and does a daughter-in-law’s duties like a maid, hmm? Don’t you think so? Are you listening?”
“…Yes, Mother. I’m listening.”
“Ugh, so frustrating. Anyway, it’s on the bottom shelf. Don’t forget to give it to Seongmin!”
“Okay.”
“I’m hanging up.”
Da-in stood motionless, staring at the ground as kids on scooters zipped past.
She once believed marriage was a beautiful thing.
To create new people to love, to build something meaningful.
“You idiot, Jeong Da-in. You’ve still got a long way to go.”
If only she could turn back time — she’d slap the version of herself who decided to get married.
“Haah…”
Her sigh echoed where the children had once been.
Cheerfully, Da-in greeted the café staff as she walked in.
“Hello.”
“Oh! Ma’am, would you like it iced?”
It had been three years since her marriage, and just as long since she’d frequented this café — yet the title ma’am still felt alien.
Smiling awkwardly, she replied, “Thanks, Min-young.”
She took a sip of her latte and glanced around the unusually empty café.
“It’s quiet today, isn’t it?”
“Ah, well…”
Min-young, always the cheerful part-timer, seemed flustered.
“It’s the day supplies arrive from headquarters, but something went wrong. The manager and boss went out to get them personally.”
“I see.”
She’d only meant the place looked empty.
So they had to leave because of work.
Nodding, Da-in opened her laptop. Min-young, feeling guilty, added:
“The boss said the new manager should be able to handle such things solo next time, so they both went.”
“Thanks for letting me know, Min-young.”
It had been five months since the previous manager left.
If the café were to run smoothly, every detail had to be taught.
Smiling faintly, Da-in turned back to her laptop.
She had to design a romance fantasy novel cover.
She skimmed the cover proposal and opened the attached manuscript — a pre-release version of the story titled:
The Regretful Male Lead? No Problem.
‘Thank you, author. I’ll read it carefully.’
Even reading just the beginning helped her understand the characters and mood better.
Besides, she liked this particular author.
Heart pounding, she began to read.
“Oh no…”
By the time she realized it, she had finished the entire attached file — tears glistening in her eyes.
Turned out, it was the full first volume.
As the title suggested, the male and female leads were deeply misunderstood and unable to express their love — until they finally uncovered each other’s true feelings.
Da-in devoured the refreshing, cathartic scenes where the heroine took charge with powerful confidence.
‘Author-nim, this is incredible. The heroine is so lovable! I’ll make you a masterpiece.’
Unlike her reality — barren of love — the story was full of things she wished she could believe in.
She wanted to draw the cover so grandly, so beautifully, that the characters would shine as brightly as they deserved.
Her hand glided across her tablet like a gentle stream.
A month passed.
Her husband, mother-in-law, and brother-in-law went on a trip.
Seongmin had been furious that she wouldn’t come along.
He scolded her for not thinking of his mother — a woman alone with two sons.
But Da-in, buried under deadlines, couldn’t leave.
A few hours after their departure, she went to the café to hold the fort.
“Where’s the manager?”
“Oh, he took a week off.”
A week — just like her husband’s trip.
Something felt wrong.
Da-in’s heart dropped.
She dashed out, checking her phone’s transaction history as she ran.
Seongmin had insisted she at least pay for the trip since she wasn’t coming — so she had handed him her card.
When she saw the total, she vaguely thought, Wow, three tickets are expensive.
Back home, she immediately turned on the computer.
She clicked on the airline site from the browser’s recent history.
She didn’t know her husband’s password — but thankfully, his account was still logged in.
She froze as the details loaded:
Business Class, 4 Passengers.
The flight hadn’t taken off yet.
Checking the time, she called her husband.
“Seongmin, it’s me. Is there someone else on the trip I don’t know about? The tickets show four seats—”
“Well, what do you expect? Just a poor old mother and her two sons?”
The voice wasn’t her husband’s.
It was her mother-in-law.
“We wanted to go on a lovely trip with our dear daughter-in-law, but she was ‘too busy,’ so what can we do? The new café manager is so hardworking and polite — we brought her along as a reward.”
“Mother… What are you talking about…?”
She couldn’t speak.
Her mother-in-law’s voice kept going.
“If a woman can’t do her job, it’s only natural a man’s eyes wander. What’s the surprise? Hmph. We’ll talk when we’re back. It’s boarding time. Bye.”
Click.
The call ended.
“You filthy—”
She tried to scream, but her body staggered.
Her blood pressure soared, then crashed.
She collapsed onto the couch like a drained battery.
Time passed.
Her heart thundered again.
She needed cold water — anything.
As she rose from the couch, she slipped on the remote and crashed.
Her head slammed into the edge of the table.
Warmth bloomed at the back of her skull. Her vision swam.
‘Am I… dying?’
Maybe they’ll write cerebral hemorrhage on her death certificate.
But no — her true cause of death was stress.
From her husband. From his family.
The blood that soaked into the red carpet made it look darker.
She stared at it blankly.
‘…He betrayed me.’
How foolish.
It wasn’t death that hurt the most — it was the betrayal.
They had grown distant, yes. But an affair?
So unfair.
If she knew it would end like this, she would’ve just divorced him.
Better yet, never married him at all.
What was so great about having a family, anyway?
Why did she throw herself away for that dream?
“So… unfair.”
The TV, still playing after her fall, broadcast a breaking news alert.
“A plane departing from— has… crash…”
But all she heard was a high-pitched ringing.
Then — nothing.
