The past cannot be corrected by some small details, even if they may be important. When you think about how to fix everything, everything gets much worse, and the details turn into shards of glass that dig into your skin.

This marriage wasn't even a marriage anymore. They lived as roommates, although Min Chol saw her reaching out to him and was afraid of losing him. Honestly, it didn't matter. He didn't care about this role, but the habit of its existence remained in his life.

And, of course, he wouldn't tell her that he had a mistress. Never in my life. But his wife, a roommate, and not a loving wife, as she thought, came home from work earlier than he expected, and he was caught right at that moment. He was not surprised, only sighed, hugging his mistress closer to him.

“Don't make that face,” Min Chol said, looking at his wife. “Sooner or later you would have found out about it. I'm not going to apologize.”