His Pretend Wife • Gojo S.

Season 2

Y/N

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned—"

"It's not your fault."

A soft voice cut through my whispered confession. My attention had been fully consumed by the altar before me, but now, I froze, blinking away the haze of guilt as I turned my head. 

The voice belonged to Angge. 

She settled into the pew beside me with a gentle smile, crossing her legs gracefully while staring at the altar.

Her short brown hair framed her delicate face, and her lashes, long and curled, cast faint shadows on her cheeks. Tanned skin, warm and glowing despite the chapel’s dim lighting, made her look so effortlessly beautiful—like someone who belonged in the light. 

She had always been like this. Radiant, confident, sure of herself. I envied that about her. 

"You're here early," I murmured, matching her soft tone as I sat back down. 

A light chuckle escaped her lips, shaking her head. "Couldn't sleep. You?" 

"Same," I replied, my gaze lingering on the flickering candlelight before us. The scent of melting wax clung faintly to the air, grounding me in the present. 

Angge is like a family I never had. She was the only person who had accepted me when I moved here—my roommate, my confidante. The only one who hadn't asked for deposits or down payments, just trust. 

She shifted slightly, resting her elbow on the pew. "So... what time do you leave for Tokyo?" 

I stole a glance at my watch. "In about an hour." 

Her expression softened, her gaze searching mine for something unspoken. "You're really doing it, huh? After a whole year?" 

A bitter laugh slipped past my lips before I could stop it. "Yeah... I know it’s not as long as what you read in novels where the heroine disappears for five years, but... I guess it’s long enough for me." 

A year. 

Had it really been that long? 

The memories still clung to me, raw and unrelenting. Like they had been etched into my skin—impossible to scrub away. That night. His voice. The silence that followed.  

And then... the ache. The hollow ache of losing him. 

No.

I clenched my jaw. I was the one who left. So why did it still hurt so damn much? 

I swallowed hard, forcing myself back into the present. 

"We kept in contact for a while... you know, for the baby," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think I should've told him earlier?" 

Angge's eyes narrowed, her brows pinching together as she shook her head firmly. "Y/n, stop. It's not your fault. Really. You... you shouldn't just pity him. You lost a child too." 

Her hand reached for my shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circles as she offered a soft, broken smile. But her words made the guilt twist deeper.