My Beautiful Wife – NTR

Feeling that Yumi was no longer by my side, I quietly slipped out of bed.

Just like the night before, I pressed my ear against the bedroom door, listening intently.

Silence.

I didn’t bother walking out this time; I knew I wouldn’t find anything just by looking. Besides, I had already installed a hidden camera in Jihoon’s bedroom.

All I had to do was retrieve it tomorrow and watch the footage to see if anything “inappropriate” was actually happening between them.

I tried my best to fall asleep.

After counting what felt like a million sheep, I finally drifted off.

In the morning, my alarm woke me up as usual.

When I walked out of the bedroom, Yumi already had breakfast ready.

Jihoon seemed a bit more cheerful during the meal, though we still didn’t talk much.

The boy was clearly close to Yumi but remained distant with me. I didn’t let it get to me. My mind was entirely focused on that camera and what I might discover.

On my way to work, I took a detour back home to retrieve the camera from the curtains in Jihoon’s room.

I wasn’t worried about being caught.

As a veteran reporter, I’ve had years of experience with clandestine filming. I’ve caught corrupt government officials and hyper-cautious illegal traders without ever slipping up.

Filming an unsuspecting kid and my own wife was child’s play.

Once I got to the office, I hooked the camera up to my computer.

Since we reporters are protective of our exclusive stories and raw footage, I have a relatively private workspace. It’s not a full private office, but it’s much better than what most of my colleagues have.

I plugged in the USB cable and opened the playback. My heart started racing. Part of me was terrified of what I might see.

I clicked through the footage, fast-forwarding from the time I went to bed. I vividly remembered checking the clock at 9:37 PM before turning in, so I started the playback from there.

Even before Yumi entered the room, I noticed Jihoon’s behavior was… off.

During the day, whenever Yumi or I saw him, he was quiet and reserved. When Yumi told him to go to bed, he’d just lie there staring at the ceiling.

But on video, the moment he was no longer under our “surveillance,” his quiet demeanor vanished. He tossed and turned restlessly. Every few minutes, he’d jump up, pull back the curtain, and stare out the window. Then, he pulled out a smartphone and started playing.

Smartphones are cheap these days; almost every kid has one. Since Jihoon came from a wealthy family, it was no surprise he had one, in fact, his phone was better than mine.

Watching him play on his phone, I wondered:

Is this even the same kid I know? Where was the “sad and helpless” orphan?

Was he just faking it in front of us because he was afraid of being scolded?

After all, even though kids have phones, teachers and schools are strict about it, and Yumi is both his guardian and his homeroom teacher.

Or had he been wearing a mask this whole time, pretending to be a “good boy”?

I was genuinely confused.

As a reporter, reading people is my bread and butter, yet I realized with a sense of irony that I couldn’t see through a thirteen-year-old.

Jihoon seemed completely absorbed in his phone. Looking at his face, you’d never guess he had lost both parents less than ten days ago.

Was he just mentally resilient? Or was he using the phone to distract himself from the pain?

I rubbed my temples. Trying to guess a child’s thoughts with an adult mind is harder than it looks.

Despite being in my thirties, this was my first time being a “father,” and I had zero experience in raising, or understanding, a kid.

Suddenly, Jihoon stopped.

He locked the screen and shoved the phone under his pillow.

He instantly reverted to his “good boy” state, lying on his back, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

A moment later, the door opened.

Yumi walked in, wearing that new, conservative nightgown, looking every bit the caring mother.

Ah, I thought. That explains it. He’d been listening for the sound of our bedroom door.

“Teacher, you’re here…”

Jihoon turned his head and forced a small smile.

“Mmhmm… not asleep yet?”

Yumi’s face flickered with a hint of hidden disappointment at the way he addressed her.

I knew she desperately wanted to be a mother. Even though Jihoon wasn’t hers, she longed for him to call her “Mom.”

“I couldn’t sleep without you here,” Jihoon said, his voice sounding lonely. The maternal look on Yumi’s face deepened. Even if he didn’t call her Mom, his attachment to her was obvious.

“Alright, I’ll stay with you,” Yumi said with a smile, looking both amused and tender.

She kicked off her slippers and lay down next to him. She lay on her side, gently patting Jihoon’s chest, exactly like a mother soothing a toddler to sleep.

Watching the screen, I found it a bit ridiculous. The boy was a teenager… did he really need to be coddled like this? Yumi really lacked experience; she was treating him like a small child.

“Teacher, can we talk tonight?”

Jihoon suddenly opened his eyes and turned toward her.

“Ah!”

Yumi let out a small gasp. Because she was lying on her side facing him, and had stayed very close to comfort him, their lips almost collided when he turned so abruptly.

Yumi jerked back reflexively just in time.

“You little rascal, it’s late. You should be sleeping, not talking,” Yumi said, checking the time on her phone. Her tone wasn’t harsh at all.

“I just want to know… how did you meet him?” Jihoon asked, his eyes full of curiosity.

“Him? Who? Who are you talking about?” Yumi was confused.

“Him. The guy in the next room…” Jihoon pointed toward our bedroom.

“Jihoon, even if you don’t want to call him ‘Dad’ yet, you shouldn’t just call him ‘him.’ It’s very disrespectful,” Yumi said, her voice turning stern.

“He’s the one who decided to adopt you. He handled your paperwork and your parents’ funeral. You’re young, but when you grow up, you’ll realize how much you owe him. You can be bad to me, but you can never be bad to him. If he were a stranger, you could never repay his kindness. If you don’t want to call him ‘Dad,’ call him ‘Uncle.’ Don’t use ‘him,’ and don’t point like that.”

Seeing Yumi defend me so fiercely brought a warm glow to my chest. For the past few days, I’d been jealous, feeling like Jihoon had replaced me as number one in Yumi’s heart.

But seeing her scold him to protect my dignity gave me a surge of satisfaction.

I was still the most important person to her.

Then, a moment later, I felt a bit of self-contempt.

Am I really competing with a kid?

I needed to act like an adult if I was going to be a father.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t really understand adult stuff…”

Jihoon looked genuinely hurt by the scolding. Tears welled up in his eyes as he apologized.

He slowly turned his body away from Yumi. Yumi, who had her hand on his stomach, moved it to his waist.

“Alright, I was a bit too harsh,” Yumi said, her eyes softening with guilt.

She realized she shouldn’t be so hard on a boy who just lost his parents. She started patting him gently again, a smile returning to her face.

“Don’t be upset. Mom will hold you while you sleep tonight. Just stay in my arms.”

She gently turned him back around so they were face-to-face.

Seeing the lingering sadness on his face, her expression was filled with even more maternal love.

Even though he hadn’t called her Mom yet, she was fully embracing the role, desperate to make him feel the warmth he’d lost.

“It’s too late tonight, and we have school tomorrow. Tomorrow night, I’ll come over early and tell you the story of how I met him…”

Listening to her, I felt a slight twinge of discomfort.

Why did she call me “him” too? Why not “my husband” or “your father”? I forced a bitter smile. Maybe she was just trying to bridge the gap in Jihoon’s heart.

“Okay, it’s a deal,” Jihoon finally smiled and rested his head on Yumi’s arm.

“Sleep now,” Yumi said. Jihoon closed his eyes obediently.

Yumi let out a huge yawn; she was clearly exhausted from a day of teaching and housework.

Yumi shifted onto her back, keeping her arm under Jihoon’s head as he snuggled against her side. Before long, her breathing became slow and even. She was out cold.

But Jihoon? This kid had the energy of youth. He wasn’t sleepy at all.

Hearing Yumi’s steady breathing, he slowly opened his eyes.

Even though the room was dark, the camera clearly captured them. They didn’t look like a child’s eyes. They looked like the eyes of a wolf.

Watching those “wolf eyes” in the dark, a sudden, inexplicable chill ran down my spine.

What was about to happen?

My nerves felt like they were stretched to the breaking point…