The hospital doors parted with a sterile hiss, spilling Yu into the brightness of late morning. The air outside was sharp and clean, cool against the heat still clinging to his cheeks. He inhaled deeply, the scent of asphalt and faint greenery grounding him in a way the too-bright fluorescent corridors never could. For a moment, he just stood there on the steps, the pamphlets still clutched to his chest, his gaze unfocused on the busy street ahead.
Every footstep that passed, every car horn in the distance, felt muted against the steady thrum of his own heartbeat. He pressed a hand to his stomach—still small, still barely visible, but no longer his alone.
'Three…'
He thought, and the word lodged like a stone in his throat.
The vibration of his phone startled him, buzzing insistently in his pocket. Yu blinked down at the screen, a message from Joy.
