Breaking Up Over the Phone
Breaking up over the phone felt a bit... …………… The next morning.
Sunlight filtered softly through the cracks in the minbak's window. It was winter, so the sun rose late—probably around eight in the morning. A late morning, if you wanted to call it that. Office workers would've already headed out by now.
Of course, I'd been awake for a while. To be precise, I hadn't slept properly at all. Even when I closed my eyes, the tasks ahead loomed large: putting a final period on my relationships with Lee Jin-ah and Han Sol.
Yeom Hana slept soundly beside me, her breathing soft and steady. We'd driven all day yesterday, toured the beach, and chatted late into the night—she deserved the rest.
I carefully threw off the blanket and got up, holding my breath as I opened the door and slipped on my shoes. I had to be considerate. A pregnant woman needs plenty of sleep.
The moment I stepped out of the minbak, the morning sea filled my view. The waves crashed—whoosh—against my ears. Unlike the pitch-black night before, the sunlit surface now sparkled gently. The breeze was fresh, the air clean. It was perfect peace.
“...Hoo.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket. Who knew a lump of metal weighing under 200 grams could feel so heavy?
Time to face it...
I couldn't plug my ears forever. I'd run because I couldn't handle their pressure, but that didn't mean I was innocent—no, it didn't. You couldn't call cheating on one woman while knocking up another anything but scum.
Anyway, I had to untangle this twisted, chaotic square of relationships. Physically meeting them was out of the question, though. Who knew what they'd do to me—or even to Yeom Hana.
I tapped the screen—do not disturb off.
Missed calls: 99+.
KakaoTalk messages: 99+.
The notifications flooded with Lee Jin-ah's name were straight-up madness.
Threats turning to pleas, then rage—an emotional rollercoaster laid bare in text. Just skimming them made my chest tighten.
But I have to get through this. It would let me close the book on them and start fresh. And they could cut ties with a trash like Han Kang, the guy juggling three women, and live their own lives.
It was uncomfortable, scary. The conversation would hurt like hell. But I had to do it. To move forward. To protect Yeom Hana and the baby growing inside her. To pass the three goddesses' trials.
“Hoo—whoosh.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. The salty chill pierced my lungs, sharpening my mind.
And finally.
I hit call.
Ring—it connected before the first tone. She'd been gripping her phone, waiting.
[...So you finally called.]
Cold. Colder than the morning sea breeze.
“Yeah. I called because I have something to say to you.”
[I'll say mine first, sunbae.]
Lee Jin-ah cut me off.
[What the hell are you doing right now? Think running off in the night fixes everything?]
“...”
[I was gonna expose everything at 9 a.m. today, but since you called, I'll give you one more day.]
Her voice dripped with certainty that I'd crawl back on my knees.
[Come back today. Your resignation hasn't been processed yet. Apologize, write a letter of apology, and submit it. But if you're not back by tonight, it's over for real. Media, internet—everything goes public.]
An ultimatum. The old me would've buckled.
But not now.
“Fine. Whatever. Post it.”
[...What?]
A stunned reply, then silence. My unexpected response had thrown her.
[What did you say?]
“Post it. Do whatever you want.”
[Sunbae, do you get the situation? Or is this just bluffing?]
A crack in her voice for the first time.
[Can't you imagine what happens if I really post it? Your life's done. Fired, can't show your face anywhere. Got it?]
“Got it.”
[Then why—]
“Jin-ah.”
I cut her off this time.
“I know I'm trash. Dating you while getting Yeom Hana pregnant? I'd have no defense if you called me the lowest scum.”
I stared out at the sea as I spoke, steeling myself against the red sun on the horizon.
“But... I can't make her abort the baby. No way. So even if you paint me as a monster with your fake exposé, I won't fight it.”
A long, long silence.
Then her voice returned.
[You're insane...]
Trembling. Rage or shock, I couldn't tell.
[So you're just giving up everything to live like a bum with that snake? Don't make me laugh. Do you even have it in you? Got the skills?]
“Laugh all you want. I've decided.”
Her voice rose higher.
[What about your pension? Severance? Gonna do manual labor at your age? Your body's wrecked. What're you gonna live on after a lifetime of beating people?]
Threats to persuasion. The shift was blatant.
And brutally realistic. Not a word wrong. Mid-40s, hiding the screaming knee and back with augmentation serum—they didn't lie. My future was less a thorny path, more a minefield.
But hadn't I resolved to walk it?
With Yeom Hana.
“I'll manage.”
[Sunbae!!]
A scream that tore at my eardrums.
[Don't do this. You'll regret it!]
“Probably. But what can I do? I'm here now.”
Her breathing grew ragged—even over the line, it was clear.
[Please don't. Life's long. Right? Aborting a snake's spawn is normal. That's right, isn't it?]
“...”
[Sunbae, it's been five years. Five years by your side. Nursing you when sick, helping with work, fetching coffee—we spent them together. What's she got? Why ruin your life over a few months with her?!]
“...Sorry.”
[Come back. Just come back first!]
Practically a wail. Five years. Lee Jin-ah had stayed by my side that long, breathing warmth into the lonely, barren life of Han Kang. I didn't think those times were fake.
Which was why I had to end it here. My last gift to her—my consideration—was no false hope.
“One last thing.”
I forced strength into my cracking voice.
“Thank you. Truly. And sorry. But it's over now.”
[Over? What do you—hey, Han Kang!!]
“Live well.”
I hit end call. The shrill voice cut off, leaving only the waves.
“Huuuuh...”
I exhaled long, so long it nearly shook the earth. My legs wobbled. One call, and it felt like I'd burned a year's worth of mental energy.
“...First hurdle cleared.”
But it wasn't over. The real one was next.
Han Sol.
Time to face hell.
……………
Was this what soul-crushing exhaustion felt like? I wanted a month's rest.
That call with Lee Jin-ah had drained me. A full year's worth.
But I knew I couldn't. Stopping now meant I'd never make the next call.
Time weakens resolve. Guilt rises, memories grab ankles. I'd end up not running—just stepping out briefly.
No, now was prime time. While my determination was ironclad, push through.
I lit the screen again.
[Han Sol]
Eyes shut tight, I hit call.
Ring-ring—ring-ring—ring-ring—connected on the third.
[...Dad?]
Cracked voice. She'd cried all night, screamed, or barely slept.
Hearing it stabbed my chest. But I swallowed hard, shoving down the emotion.
“Yeah, it's me.”
[Dad, where are you?]
Han Sol sounded like she was forcing calm.
[You're not at home. On a trip or something?]
She was dodging reality hard. She knew I'd packed and left. But hiding behind "trip."
She didn't want to admit it. The situation right in front of her.
I couldn't play along.
“No, not a trip.”
[You're coming back, right? Just went somewhere briefly? Right?]
It hurt. But I had to.
“...Sol-ah.”
Calling her name halted her breathing over the line.
“I'm not coming back.”
After that, Han Sol went silent for a while. Only waves hit my ears.
No ambient noise from her end.
[...What?]
When her voice returned, it trembled.
“Quit the job, canceled the lease. Moving to a new neighborhood entirely. No more Seoul for me.”
[Liiiieees!!]
A shriek that shredded eardrums.
[Don't lie! Why would you leave home!?]
“Not lying. It's all sorted.”
[Why? Why so sudden? Without a word to me?]
“You'd have stopped me.”
[Of course! Dad! Do you know what you're doing!?]
Her voice climbed to horrific heights, cracking wildly.
“I know. Doing what I have to.”
Silence again. Then raw fury erupted.
[It's because of that, right!?]
Han Sol screamed.
[That bum bitch and her belly spawn!!]
“Sol-ah.”
[Dad, you promised! You said you'd never abandon me. No matter what, we're family!]
She was right. I'd made that promise myself.
To soothe her self-harm threats, to give her security and will to live.
Hugging my daughter Han Sol, even crossing taboos, I'd said it. Dozens of times.
We're family. Even without blood, you're my daughter.
“...Yeah, I did.”