Zahn stared at Yeri as though every word she uttered peeled off another layer of his carefully maintained delusion.
There was a slight flicker in Zahn's eyes as he asked quietly, "How did you know she was suffering from depression?"
Yeri gave him the kind of look that said isn't it obvious? She took a big bite of her chicken drumstick before answering, "Before she approached me in the park, remember I first saw her at your office? I honestly thought she was one of your patients. Anyone can fake being sick, but the eyes never lie. Let's just say I'm good at reading people in that area."
Zahn's fingers subtly stiffened.
So it was that obvious?
Yeri might not have said the words outright, but the message was the same: as a doctor, how could he not see it?
In truth, when he returned to the country and saw Lianna again for the first time in three years, he'd been taken aback. She had lost so much weight. Her skin was pale. Her demeanor dimmed, like a candle struggling to burn.
That day she came to his office, Lianna only delivered a lunchbox and a message from his mother. Her voice soft but her eyes dull, distant.
Now that he knew she hadn't been pretending, not the depression, not the exhaustion, he couldn't deny what he had seen then.
He's a doctor trained to catch subtle symptoms even under pressure. Yet with his own wife he had simply chosen not to believe it.
"Anyway," Yeri continued, happily swinging the drumstick, "Sister Lianna rarely talked about her married life. She didn't ask about mine, either. Did you know she can't see most colors? Only dull ones. She knew I was with Brother Shin, but the reason she approached me was because she said… I was the only person she saw in a warm color. Something bright."
Her eyes sparkled proudly, chin lifting like a peacock showing off its tail.
Zahn: "…"
"Ah, and she mentioned her childhood sometimes." Yeri tilted her head, voice thoughtful. "I don't think she hates you. Whenever she talked about those memories, there was nostalgia. Even a bit of joy."
Zahn looked up sharply. For a split second, hope flickered in his bloodshot eyes, immediately swallowed by guilt and sorrow.
"But…" Yeri's tone shifted. "Not long ago, I suddenly got a call from her late at night. She was talking incomprehensibly." A deep frown formed. "It was raining hard and I panicked thinking something happened. She asked me for help. When I found her, she was completely drenched, running a high fever and delirious."
Zahn's expression shattered.
"I don't know what happened to her to be in that state…" Yeri exaggerated a little more, savoring the effect. It wasn't a lie, it had happened. "But after that night, something changed. I remember her saying she wouldn't be chained to the past anymore. That she would carve her own path."
Zahn's lips trembled. His Adam's apple moved up and down, as if he were holding back a wave of emotion threatening to break loose. His bloodshot eyes were stuck on Yeri, incredulous, devastated.
All finally stretching cracks across the facade he'd always upheld; calm, composed, untouchable.
And Yeri relished it.
Of course she wasn't saying all this for his sake. She wanted him to feel it. To drown in it.
She wanted him to understand the harm he'd caused, to understand that Lianna's desire for divorce was not a whim, not a scheme, not influenced by anyone else.
It was Lianna finally giving herself self-respect. A hope for a new beginning.
Before Zahn could speak, the sound of tires screeching cut through the quiet, followed by a door slamming and heavy, charging footsteps.
Shin's gloomy face and oppressive aura appeared in the doorway like a storm. Without a word, he grabbed Zahn by the collar and slammed him hard against the wall.
"Instead of running around asking random people for answers, ambushing my fiancée, why don't you face your wife and ask her directly? Are you really that much of a coward?" Shin sneered.
Under normal circumstances, Zahn wasn't Shin's match. And now, with no sleep since the previous night and guilt gnawing at him, he had even less strength to resist.
"I just… wanted to know what they often talked about," Zahn said, exhausted.
Part of Shin's words was right, and Zahn knew it.
It was the thought of facing Lianna's cold, indifferent gaze again.
If he told her he knew everything now, that he was wrong and regretted it all… What if she still insisted on divorce? What then?
Seeing Zahn's defeated, pathetic state, Shin's expression shifted. The confrontation suddenly felt unnecessary.
Yeri remained seated at the dining table throughout the entire scene. The moment she recognized Shin Keir, she almost scrambled to hide the remaining chicken pieces like a guilty child, but then remembered: Zahn was the one who bought them for her. A doctor's orders outweighed this man's menace, so she stayed still.
"What are you eating?" Shin asked, turning around and catching her mid–chicken wing.
Yeri calmly waved the chicken bone. "Doctor Neri bought it for me. Want some?"
Shin's eyes flicked back to Zahn with a deadly glare.
"She said she was hungry. It's just a few pieces," Zahn defended quietly.
While the two men locked eyes in silent hostility, Yeri noticed something at the doorway, a small, chubby hand gripping the frame and half a round face peeking inside.
She recognized him immediately.
Sean. The little boy she'd seen in Lianna's memory.
When he realized she saw him, he looked startled and scampered away.
"Doctor Neri, is Sister Lianna here?" Yeri asked casually, but with keen curiosity.
Zahn's expression frosted over instantly. He looked away, clearly avoiding the question.
Shin stared at him as well, silent, but sharp.
"No," Zahn finally answered. "She needed rest and time for herself, so I took her to a private island."
Yeri almost choked. A private island?
Oh, is this the ultra-rich people's version of giving someone space?
She nearly sneered. Wasn't this just plain imprisonment?
He ignored her when she needed him most.
And now that she wanted her freedom, he was treating her like some canary he could hide away?
Zahn muttered something to Shin, something low and tense and Yeri, sensing she was no longer needed, quietly slipped away.
The house was enormous, yet she had noticed how eerily empty it felt since she arrived.
A house meant for a family, yet filled with the silence of a museum.
Even as she took the chance to wander farther, she still hadn't seen a single maid.
As she turned a corner, she caught sight of Sean again upstairs. The little boy froze when their eyes met, then darted back into his room like a startled squirrel.
Yeri quickened her pace and followed, knocking gently before entering.
"Go away!" Sean shouted defiantly from inside.
"Chicken delivery!" Yeri chirped, winking as she slipped in.
The boy's room was spacious, overflowing with toys, books, stuffed animals, all neatly arranged, as if untouched.
"I don't like you," Sean declared, puffing up like an offended kitten. "And if you think you can use me to get close to my dad, you're wrong!"
Yeri nearly tripped on air.
What kind of third-rate drama misunderstanding was this?
"What made you think I'm trying to get close to your dad?" Yeri asked gently.
But Sean only glared at her as though she were his sworn enemy and also the villain in his weekend morning cartoons.
With a sigh, Yeri set the chicken bucket she'd been carrying on the little table covered with crayons. "I'm not trying to get close to your dad. I'm just one of his patients. If there's someone I'm close with, it's your mommy."
At the word mommy, Sean's small body stiffened. He didn't look up, but she saw the flicker of interest, the quick squeeze of his hands.
Then he muttered, head bowed, "Then… are you dying? Grandma said Daddy is the most powerful doctor in the world. He saves dying people."
Yeri's mouth twitched. Children could be brutally honest, sure, but did he have to curse her like that?!
"I'm not dying," Yeri huffed. "Look at me, I'm so healthy I can eat this whole chicken bucket by myself. Can you? And your dad doesn't only treat dying people. He treats simple things too. Like fever."
Sean blinked at her, eyes darting between her and the chicken bucket. Something seemed to click, and then he shook his head hard.
"You're lying. Dad doesn't know how to treat fever… That's what Mommy said."
Yeri raised an eyebrow. Lianna said that? Why? Now that was interesting.
While pondering what Lianna meant, she sat cross-legged on the carpet and casually picked up another piece of chicken to munch.
Sean swallowed visibly. Then his expression morphed into outrage, and he pointed at her. "Why are you eating in my room?! Get out or I'll tell Dad and Grandma! You have no manners!"
"Pointing and shouting at someone older than you is also rude," Yeri shot back, unfazed. "You have no manners too. I'll tell your mother."
Sean froze, his big doe eyes welling instantly. His small face twisted into a knot of complicated emotions, anger, indignation… and the fragile kind of hurt only a child could show.
His lips wobbled. He looked like he might burst into tears at any moment.
Yeri recalled from Lianna's memory, at Sean's birthday party, back then, this boy's angry shouts hadn't matched the emotions in his eyes.
Yes, he was angry. But beneath that anger hid fear, loneliness, and a quiet hurt a child his age shouldn't even know existed.
Especially not a pampered young master of a prominent family who should've grown up carefree, mischievous, and spoiled, not flinching, not watching every adult's reaction like a wary kitten.
And seeing him now, Yeri was certain. Sean didn't hate or dislike his mother. If anything, in his own way, perhaps he was desperately trying to help his mother?