Unrequited Love Thresher-Chapter 60: The Second Son

Lee Mihyun was not someone who often showed her emotions.

She was always calm, quiet, composed—and she knew well that being overly emotional never helped anything. From childhood, she had been an even-tempered, well-behaved girl, and her career as a news anchor had suited her perfectly.

No matter the situation, she never got worked up or flustered. She kept her composure and addressed others with poised elegance.

But lately... her emotions weren’t so easy to control.

And the cause of that was her second son—Ha Giyeon.

Ever since entering high school, he’d started changing. He not only spoke to her confidently—he even contradicted her. He went so far as to say they could abandon him if they wanted.

She had never felt so many emotions toward Ha Giyeon before. The child she always found irritating and pathetic was now throwing her off balance. Making her angry.

At one point, she wondered—had he started to look down on her?

So when Ha Ilwoo scolded the boy, she held back and simply observed.

But she was wrong.

Giyeon stared Ilwoo straight in the eye and answered, plain as day:

“I don’t know what you’re talking about... I don’t hang out with those kinds of kids.”

“And I don’t have any friends.”

“You don’t believe me even when I say the truth, so... why do you even ask?”

When he gasped for breath with a pained expression, Mihyun realized something was wrong. His complexion didn’t look good.

“So... why, why do you ask...”

His breathing sounded strange—was he exhaling through his mouth?

His eyes had lost focus. What was he even looking at?

“I won’t bring shame... to this family... so please, just...”

His voice was fading, like something was strangling him.

And then, Ha Giyeon suddenly clutched at his throat.

It was Ha Dohoon who # Nоvеlight # reacted first.

“Huhk! Kuhk...!”

“Giyeon!”

Ha Giyeon’s trembling hand reached out—toward her.

With eyes wide in panic—like he was about to die—he reached for her, then collapsed forward.

Dohoon caught him as he fell, and the two of them crashed to the floor. A scream tore from Mihyun’s throat.

“Huhk! Kuhk!”

Giyeon’s eyes rolled back as he clawed at his own neck, scratching until it turned red. Mihyun’s scream brought the restaurant staff running, but they froze in shock when they saw him.

“Call an ambulance!”

Dohoon shouted as he held Giyeon in his arms. The staff finally snapped out of it and dialed emergency services.

But the first one to act after that was Ha Ilwoo.

The boy who had just been calmly talking with him was now lying unconscious, gasping for air. Why? Ilwoo’s mind filled with unspoken words and unanswered questions as he reached toward Giyeon—

But he never touched him.

Because Dohoon smacked his hand away.

“Don’t touch him.”

Dohoon’s eyes were feral—like an animal protecting what was his. Ilwoo froze, unable to reach out again.

“Giyeon! Wake up! Ha Giyeon! Where the hell is that ambulance?!”

“On its way!”

In the chaos, the only two who stood there stunned and unmoving were his parents—Ilwoo and Mihyun. They didn’t regain their senses until the ambulance arrived.

***

There was only one time in Lee Mihyun’s life when she had felt her heart plummet like this.

It was when she became pregnant with her second son, Ha Giyeon, just as her career had stabilized after giving birth to Dohoon. The sudden, unplanned child had felt like a disaster—she’d felt despair and revulsion.

And Ha Ilwoo?

He had never felt anything like that. Everything had always gone according to plan. Sure, there were moments of frustration and setbacks—but never enough to make his heart drop like that.

He had believed it never would.

But who could’ve predicted it?

Not for Dohoon, but for his second son—Ha Giyeon—his heart would plummet, just like that.

He had planned to offer a few scolding words, then chat with Dohoon and Mihyun and finish the meal.

But Giyeon had talked back—and then collapsed.

Ilwoo had never felt anything like it. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. He just stood there like an idiot.

“It’s an allergic reaction.”

At the hospital, that was the diagnosis. Something he hadn’t expected. He thought maybe it was stress, or something wrong with the restaurant food.

But no—seafood allergy.

That didn’t make sense. As far as he knew, Giyeon had no allergies. Had it developed recently? Had he eaten without realizing it?

Over half the side dishes at the table had been seafood—even the soup.

When Mihyun heard the diagnosis, she staggered, clutching her phone, and rushed out in a panic. Ilwoo followed her out to the emergency stairwell. She was already dialing a number.

The only person she could call for this kind of question was Kang Jinhui—the housekeeper in charge of preparing their meals.

—“Yes. Giyeon has a seafood allergy.”

“You knew?”

—“Of course. That’s why I always prepared his food separately when cooking seafood.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

Silence. Then, Jinhui’s voice dropped to a calm but firm tone.

—“I did tell you. When he was in first grade, he ate fried fish at school lunch and ended up in the emergency room. I made sure to inform you.”

“...”

—“Don’t you remember? I told you afterward that I’d be making separate meals for him. Ever since then, he’s been very careful with what he eats. Even a small amount causes his throat to swell up—he can’t breathe.”

Despite how quiet her voice was, Mihyun could hear the anger beneath it.

The phone slipped from her hand.

First grade? The emergency room? When?

She couldn’t remember anything. She remembered the meetings and events she’d attended to protect her career—but not Giyeon.

And Ha Ilwoo was the same. He remembered the overseas trip he took at the time—but nothing about Giyeon.

Mihyun slumped against the wall and slid down to the floor.

She couldn’t make sense of anything—but one thing was certain.

Even when Giyeon had nearly died as a child from his allergy, and again now as he was rushed to the ER, she had done nothing.

She had simply stood and watched as her child suffered.

That belated guilt stabbed into her like a knife.

And Ha Ilwoo, watching from the stairs, could only clench his fists in silence. He knew what allergies Dohoon had, what he liked and disliked.

But Giyeon?

Why had he decided that wasn’t important to know?

Why had he never even tried to find out?

Why had he just stood by, watching Giyeon in pain?

There were no excuses. No denial. It was entirely his fault.

Admitting fault was easy. But neither of them knew what they were supposed to do for Ha Giyeon now.

***

“Ha...”

With a thick IV needle in his wrist, Ha Giyeon lay still in the hospital bed.

Sitting beside him, Ha Dohoon gripped his thin, pale hand, one leg bouncing nervously. Giyeon’s eyes remained firmly shut, not twitching in the slightest. It looked almost like he was dead. Dohoon couldn’t look away.

He hadn’t realized how skinny Giyeon had gotten beneath his winter uniform. He hadn’t noticed when it had started. He gritted his teeth in self-loathing.

When Giyeon clawed at his neck, gasping for air, Dohoon had genuinely thought he was going to die. His heart had nearly exploded. In that moment, there was nothing in his vision but Ha Giyeon.

How had no one known about his allergy?

Forget their busy parents—why hadn’t he known?

He was the one always by Giyeon’s side. So why did he know nothing?

He combed through his memories over and over.

“Hyung, this has peanuts! You can’t eat it!”

And then it came back—Giyeon holding up a snack, warning him not to eat it.

He remembered my allergy... but I didn’t even know about his.

He didn’t even know about the deep wound on Giyeon’s knee. Giyeon no longer showed him his injuries—just like he hid them under his uniform, he tried to hide everything.

Maybe... Giyeon had been right all along.

Maybe pretending to care now really was meaningless.

You don’t know a single thing about me.

And now, even if he claimed he desperately wanted to know—what Giyeon liked, what he hated, what happened at school, how his day went...

Even if he wondered now, with Giyeon lying unconscious, what kind of dream he was having...

Would any of that matter?

He just wanted him to open his eyes.

To look at him.

That was all.