"Does Sieun know?" Youngyi asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
I shook my head, eyes staring blankly at the tiled floor. "Don't have the heart to tell him."
We both just sat there in silence, the kind that says everything you're too shattered to put into words.
After a moment, she turned to me again, voice steadier this time. "Do you want me to do it?"
I swallowed hard, then gave a small nod. "Yes... thank you," I whispered, my voice cracking at the end.
She squeezed my hand gently, as if telling me she understood.
I had gone out to bring them breakfast. My hands felt numb from the cold air, or maybe just from everything. I walked into the hospital room quietly, setting the plastic bag on the small table beside the bed. The soft rustle of plastic was the only sound.
I took out the boxes one by one placing it on the table.
"Sieun isn't answering any of my calls," Youngyi said from her seat.
"Probably at school," I replied, barely meeting her eyes.
"Please eat up, both of you," I said, trying to sound steady, but it came out shaky.
They didn't move. His grandmother just stared blankly at the sheets tucked around Sooho's unmoving body.
"Please," I whispered again. My voice cracked.
I sat down beside his grandmother, picked up a warm bowl, and gently placed it in her hands. "Sooho wouldn't be happy if you skipped your meal. He'd whine if he knew," I added with a sad smile.
Her eyes filled again, but she nodded slowly. It took a few moments, but she lifted the spoon.
I stood up to give them space, taking a deep breath to keep myself from falling apart.
"Aren't you going to eat?" Youngyi asked gently.
"Oh... I already ate," I said quickly, lying.
She frowned slightly. "Then who's this one for?"
I followed her gaze to the last untouched bowl.
My lips parted, but nothing came out. My throat burned.
"I'll be back in some time," I said quietly, forcing a small smile before slipping out of the hospital room.
The hallway outside was cold, sterile, and far too quiet. Everything felt wrong. Sooho would hate it here. He hated anything that smelled remotely like antiseptic — and needles? God, he'd hide behind chairs just to avoid getting a shot. The memory almost made me smile... almost.
I wandered down the corridor and finally stepped out through the hospital's main entrance. The world outside was still moving. It felt surreal. How could everything just go on like nothing happened?
I stood there for a moment, frozen under the cloudy sky.
Slowly, I pulled out my phone from my pocket. My thumb hovered over the screen as I scrolled through my contacts. I found the name. Stared at it. My heart raced.
I hesitated.
Would he even pick up? Would he care?
But my fingers moved before my brain could stop them. I tapped call.
The dial tone rang once. Twice. Three times.
"Eunji?" a voice finally answered, calm, a little surprised. "What happened?"
"Dad..." My voice cracked. That one word felt like all the pain in the world.
I took a shaky breath, eyes welling up, trying to keep it together even though every part of me was falling apart. My lips trembled.
"I need your help."
The next morning, I walked back into the hospital. Last day had chewed me up. I didn't even realise how fast time went. I had so many missed calls. I felt so over stimulated. But I still made my way to the hospital.
I reached Sooho’s door and pushed it open.
Then I stopped.
My feet were frozen to the ground.
Sitting right in front of Sooho, his shoulders hunched, back curved like the weight of the world was pressing down on him—was Sieun.
He slowly turned around.
And there he was.
His face was barely recognisable—swollen, bruised, dried blood at the corner of his mouth. His lip was split, his knuckles red and scraped. But it was his eyes that broke me.
Red. Bloodshot. Empty. He had been crying for hours.
My chest tightened. My mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“Eunji,” he whispered, his voice barely there—cracked, worn, broken.
I didn’t even realize I was moving until I was in front of him, slowly kneeling down. My hands trembled as I reached up, cradling his face with the gentlest touch I could manage, careful not to brush against the bruises.
“Sieun,” I breathed out, voice thick with everything I couldn’t say—grief, anger, guilt, relief.
His eyes fluttered shut, a single tear slipping down his bruised cheek. Slowly, I felt his arms wrap around mine—tightly—his forehead pressing against my stomach, shoulders trembling.
“Sooho…”
His voice cracked, barely more than a broken whisper as he stuttered the name.
“I know,” I murmured, my hand gently running through his hair, the other patting his back in soft, steady motions.
“I know.”
And I held him tighter. Because that was all I could do.
