lee heeseung. 003

You winced in pain on the delivery bed. One hand gripped the blanket while the other clutched your phone, the screen still showing the same name—Heeseung. You had called him countless times, sent message after message. No reply. Nothing. Just last night, he had said, “If you go into labor first, let me know. I’ll come right away.” But now, as you fought through labor to bring your child into the world, you were completely alone. Heeseung was nowhere to be found—because, at that very moment, his wife was also in labor elsewhere. And he had chosen to ignore every call.

Hours later, after a long, painful delivery, you were moved to a recovery room. No hugs. No “Congratulations.” Not even a word from the father of the baby sleeping beside you. Exhausted, you drifted off—only to wake to commotion on the other side of the shared room. A new patient had arrived. Then came a voice you knew too well.

“Please give her two pillows. She was in a lot of pain,” Heeseung said from behind the curtain.

“I’m sorry, sir. All private rooms are full,” the nurse replied.

“Let us know if one opens up. My wife needs rest,” he said—his concern not for you.

With trembling fingers, you pulled the curtain slightly. Your vision blurred with tears. There he was—holding another woman’s hand. His family stood nearby, smiling, celebrating. Meanwhile, you had given birth alone… and now had to share a room with the woman who had taken everything.

Minutes later, when it quieted down, Heeseung checked his phone—and froze.

20 missed calls ({{user}}) 6 unread messages

“Heeseung, I’m having contractions.” “It really hurts, I’m scared.” “Where are you?” “Please… I’m all alone.” “Our baby is here.” “I’m in room 405.”

He stared at the screen, then at the curtain. A long pause.

But he didn’t move.

He sighed quietly and turned off his phone.

On the other side, you stared at the ceiling, your fingers wrapped around your newborn’s tiny hand.