Sponsorship Stigma
Chapter 19
Do You Still Like Me?
The breath spilling between his lips fell erratically against Yeonjae.
Even without looking, the warmth seeping through her back told her just how closely they were pressed together.
Yeonjae froze stiff from head to toe.
It should have been only her ten fingers that froze, yet her entire body stiffened as if she had looked upon Medusa herself.
‘…Why?’
The question rose to the tip of her throat—why was he playing the piano?
When he had hated it so much.
And if he had lost his memories, all the more reason. So why?
As the melody rushed toward its close, Yeonjae lowered her gaze.
With a gentle conclusion, the fingers rippling across the keys came to a stop.
And the man’s body, which had been resting against Yeonjae’s back, slowly pulled away.
Only then did she let out a shallow breath.
Yeonjae had not even realized she was holding her breath.
A heavy silence descended upon the practice room after Jeheon’s playing ended.
When the silence stretched unnervingly long, he moved behind her.
“Jeong Yeonjae, is it the same for you?”
At the low, resonant voice, Yeonjae lifted her lowered head.
Her gaze locked with the man standing with one hand resting against the curved rim of the piano.
“Did you quit the piano because you got sick of it?”
The unexpected question made Yeonjae’s eyes waver.
The sight before his eyes was the answer itself.
Unable to say that it had been difficult to play because of him, she bit her lip.
The tightly wound tension in her muscles eased, and strength returned to her stiffened fingers.
“No comment. That feels too personal.”
Yeonjae answered as she rose from her seat.
“You used to love it. The piano.”
Just when she thought she had firmly cut off the inquiry, the topic looped back to the piano.
Jeheon’s eyes, meeting hers, flickered with an unreadable emotion.
There was something in them, whether amusement or curiosity.
Feeling as though she had fallen into Jeheon’s rhythm, Yeonjae pressed her lips together.
“It’s about time for the kids to finish, so I should get going. Excuse me.”
A glance at her wristwatch showed it was already nearing eight o’clock.
Covering the piano and tidying the space, Yeonjae tried to leave using Jiwoo as an excuse.
Yet she had barely taken a few steps before her path was blocked.
“Do you still like me?”
The question struck like a sudden airstrike, and this time, Yeonjae’s heart dropped to the floor.
Her eyes wavered, unable to find their footing.
Yet the gaze Jeheon fixed on her did not tremble in the least.
Though framed as a question, it carried the absolute certainty of an answer already decided.
“Is that why you’re nitpicking with absurd excuses and constantly pushing back against Jiwoo joining the Foundation?”
It seemed this was the conclusion he had arrived at over the past week.
You still like me. But because your feelings won’t go the way you want, you get angry and throw fits even though you like me.
Isn’t that it?
His eyes seemed to say exactly that.
Yeonjae clenched her trembling hands into fists.
Unlike her, who was shaken to the core as if the world were tilting, Jeheon remained entirely composed.
Seeing that, her reason gradually returned.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t like you.”
Unlike her pounding heart, her voice came out calm.
What a relief. At the very least, she did not want to show any weakness in front of Jeheon. Jeheon, who was standing beside the piano, moved.
“Are you sure?”
Stepping close to Yeonjae in an instant, he asked in a low voice.
As if he already had a specific answer he wanted to hear, his gaze was unwavering.
Yeonjae tried her best to look away from his eyes.
“…Yes.”
“Then why can’t you meet my eyes?”
He seemed to have noticed her evasion immediately.
Even as she spoke, her conscience pricked. Because she truly had been avoiding him.
“I’m not. When did I ever do that?”
Feigning ignorance, Yeonjae lowered her gaze.
Looking down, she saw her wristwatch was already past eight.
Good timing. Now it really was time to go pick up Jiwoo.
“I have to go. It’s already eight…”
Before she could even finish her sentence—
A touch cupped her chin, pulling her lowered head upward.
The gaze she had tried so hard to avoid was forcefully aligned with his.
Before she knew it, Jeheon was closer than he had been even a moment ago.
Meeting those dark eyes head-on made Yeonjae’s heart constrict painfully.
“Jeong Yeonjae, this is what meeting someone’s eyes looks like.”
“…”
“And you definitely are avoiding me. That’s why you came into a room like this on such a ridiculous excuse.”
Yeonjae’s lips trembled.
If he knew she was avoiding him, he could have just pretended not to notice, but this man lacked even an ounce of flexibility.
“Have you still not gotten over me?”
As the decisive question drove home, the smooth space between Yeonjae’s brows furrowed deeply.
“I said no! I’m over you.”
The emotions she had been holding back surfaced clearly on her face.
Displeasure, along with an inexplicable sense of shame. Her expression was stained with a tangle of feelings.
“It’s been five years. Why on earth would I still have feelings for you, CEO?”
“That’s strange. Because to my eyes, it looks like you haven’t moved on.”
He eased the pressure in the hand holding Yeonjae.
“If you’re Jiwoo’s mother, you ought to be thrilled. The Foundation’s offer, the autumn concert. Other kids are desperate for chances like these.”
“…”
“That’s why I can’t make sense of it.”
A faint smile touched his lips, carrying a distinct air of leisure.
“No matter how I look at it, you’re in a position where you should be accepting my offer. Not baring your fangs at me.”
“…”
“So if it isn’t because you like me, tell me. Why are you avoiding me, and why did you come into a cramped room like this?”
Yeonjae bit down on her inner lip.
It might have become just a fragment of past memories to you, but it isn’t that simple for me.
“It was a coincidence. I just wanted to play the piano, so I came in. I never avoided you.”
“…”
“And I’m a mother. Do you really think I still haven’t moved on from you, CEO? It’s all just a coincidence.”
Instead of the words she swallowed back, Yeonjae made excuses about coincidences and tried to turn her gaze away.
“With a face like that, I’d be a fool to believe you.”
With a firm grip on her wrist, Yeonjae’s body was pulled toward him.
The distance between them closed in an instant, on an entirely different level from their earlier closeness.
“When you act like this, it makes me want to find out for sure.”
Find out what?
Before she could even ask the question back, Jeheon’s large hands cupped both of Yeonjae’s cheeks.
Yeonjae’s eyes widened round.
Belatedly realizing what he meant by finding out, she tried to push him away.
Yet pushing against Jeheon, who stood like an unyielding wall, was entirely beyond her strength.
As his lips drew close enough to touch at any moment, Yeonjae’s heart dropped.
And just as Yeonjae squeezed her eyes shut, dizzy to the point of turning white—
Hyekyung poked her head through the open door.
“Jiwoo’s mom, were you here? I’ve been looking all over. Jiwoo, your mom is in here!”
Right before their lips could meet, Yeonjae shoved Jeheon back with force.
“What are you two doing? Are you hot, Jiwoo’s mom?”
“Ah, no.”
Looking back and forth between Yeonjae’s face, which seemed ready to burst red, and Jeheon, Hyekyung asked.
And while Hyekyung and Jeheon talked, Yeonjae hurriedly gathered Jiwoo’s things.
Her only thought was to escape this place as quickly as possible.
Having finished saying his goodbyes, Jiwoo took Yeonjae’s hand.
On their way out of the hall, her eyes met Jeheon’s.
“Mister, are you coming on Thursday too?”
Having grown close when she wasn’t looking, Jiwoo asked Jeheon with a bright, innocent smile.
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to check my schedule. Do you want me to come?”
“Yes!”
Jiwoo tried to keep chatting warmly.
Yeonjae tugged on the boy’s hand.
Taking it as a cue that it was time to go home, Jiwoo quickly offered his farewell.
“Mister, goodbye.”
“Alright. Take care.”
Though she felt Jeheon’s gaze lingering on them until they were far away, Yeonjae deliberately pretended not to notice.
* * *
All the way to the car, Jiwoo chattered on about today’s practice.
Even as the child spoke, Yeonjae found it nearly impossible to focus on the conversation.
Offering brief replies, Yeonjae started the engine and gripped the steering wheel.
Her hands on the wheel trembled faintly.
Even though the storm had passed, Yeonjae still felt as unsettled as if she were caught inside a tempest.
It would probably stay like this until the day of the concert.
She only wished this time would pass quickly.
As the car moved, Jiwoo seemed to look out the window.
A quiet stillness lingered in the vehicle.
Because what happened with Jeheon had been so intense, Yeonjae had not even realized she forgot to turn on music.
“Mom… you know what?”
At the low voice echoing near her ear, Yeonjae’s gaze turned toward Jiwoo.
The boy, who had seemed to be looking outside, was now looking at Yeonjae.
“Jiwoo did someting bad.”
“Hm?”
At the sudden confession, Yeonjae’s eyes went wide.
As if sharing something after much agonizing, his small lips parted with difficulty.
“Back then… when I lied.”
Saying he knew he wasn’t supposed to practice at the kindergarten but told her he was anyway.
Saying he only did it because he wanted to play the piano so badly, Jiwoo began bringing up what happened.
Though it came out rambling, the core of it was that he was apologizing for what he did wrong.
Ever since that day, Yeonjae had been worrying over how to bring it up with the child.
It was his first time lying. And children his age often exaggerated or made up wild stories.
So while she deliberated, quite a bit of time had passed.
“I understand how you felt, Jiwoo. Mom is sorry too for not understanding your feelings.”
“…”
“But just like you said, lying isn’t good. Even so, saying you’re sorry first like this is wonderful. Our Jiwoo is very brave. Next time, tell me honestly instead of lying, okay?”
Following the red light, Yeonjae’s car came to a stop.
As if he had expected to be scolded, Jiwoo blinked his eyes and then nodded vigorously.
The tension on the boy’s face melted into brightness.
And along with it, the tension that had wound Yeonjae’s heart so tightly loosened a fraction.
“Jiwoo, did Teacher teach you that?”
At Yeonjae’s gentle question, Jiwoo shook his head.
“No! The mister told me.”
“…”
“He said to be a cool person, you have to know how to apologize when you do something wrong.”
At the completely unexpected mention, Yeonjae’s eyes wavered.
She had naturally assumed he had been scolded by the kindergarten teacher.
Since the teacher had been put in an awkward position in the middle.
“Mom, Jiwoo wants to be cool like that mister too.”
“…Why?”
“Because I like him!”
The child’s pure innocence, devoid of any impurity, weighed heavily on Yeonjae’s heart.
“He’s cool, and um… handsome, ah, I dunno. But I think I just like him!”
Watching Jiwoo say he liked Jeheon made Yeonjae’s heart sting.
It broke her heart that the first adult man the child had ever opened up to was, of all people, Jeheon.
Because he was not someone who could always stay by his side.
Jiwoo could not remain near Jeheon.
If he stayed near Jeheon, someday Myeonghee would find out about Jiwoo’s existence.
And that he was Yeonjae’s son.
With Myeonghee’s sharp intuition, she would realize Jiwoo was Jeheon’s blood.
And she was a woman who would stop at nothing to take away her only grandchild.
A father and son who could never be together.
The reality etched so painfully deep only brought ache.
“You’ll definitely grow into a wonderful person too, Jiwoo.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Of course.”
With a happy smile, the boy drifted off to sleep.
Watching Jiwoo sleeping with his head tilted down in the rearview mirror, Yeonjae’s mouth felt parched and dry.
Perhaps because she had thought of Myeonghee, the anxiety would not easily subside.
The Foundation was not the only issue.
Before the time Jiwoo and Jeheon spent together grew any longer. Before they became more deeply entangled, she felt she had to sever this tie.
On the road back home, her heart was as heavy as if it were weighed down by hundreds of leaden sinkers.
