Suho's POV
"SUHO, wake up! Suho…! Somebody please help! My husband is bleeding! Please, somebody help! Suho, don't give up, look at me… please… help!"
The voice echoed faintly in my head, shaky, crying, desperate. Then suddenly, I opened my eyes.
Everything was blurry and bright. I blinked several times, trying to adjust to the light. It was a large white room, and the steady beeping of a machine filled my ears. My body felt heavy, numb. I couldn't move. I realized I was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to medical equipment.
Wait… am I alive?
My head felt so heavy, and one side of my face was tightly bandaged. I tried to move but couldn't. How long have I been here?
Then it hit me.
Where's Hauen? Is she okay? What about our baby… our little soul?
God, please… please save them. Don't be so cruel to take that tiny life away before it even begins.
A storm of questions and emotions raced through my mind as I tried weakly to look around.
then I saw my mother sitting nearby the couch head hung low.
"Omma?" I whispered weakly, my voice barely coming out. She didn't hear me.
I tried again, a little louder this time. "Omma…"
Still no response, just the faint sound of machines beeping around me.
A moment later, the door opened and the doctor walked in, followed by Yuna imo.
And everything slowly faded again.
—End of POV
"Hello, Mr. Kim," the doctor greeted with a warm smile.
"Suho!" Mrs. Kim gasped, rushing to his side.
"Mrs. Kim, please calm down," the doctor said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. "He's okay. Let me check him first, then you can talk to him."
Yuna quickly came forward and helped Mrs. Kim sit on the couch nearby, whispering comfort.
The doctor turned back to Suho. "How are you feeling, Mr. Kim?"
Suho blinked slowly. "My head feels heavy… I can't move my body properly." His voice was weak but steady.
"That's expected," the doctor said softly. "You've been unconscious for three days. You were brought here in very bad shape, but you made it." He smiled lightly.
Suho's heart skipped. "What about my wife? Is she okay?"
The doctor's smile faltered slightly, but he kept his tone calm. "She's fine. She's under treatment and will recover in a few days. Right now, you just need to focus on your healing."
Suho swallowed hard. "And… my baby?" he asked quietly.
"They're both fine, Mr. Kim," the doctor said reassuringly. "Don't stress yourself. Rest well, okay?"
He noted a few readings on the chart, adjusted Suho's IV, and left after giving some medication instructions.
As soon as the door closed, Mrs. Kim burst into tears. "How are you feeling, my son?" she cried, clutching his hand.
Suho gave a weak smile. "I'm okay, Omma."
Yuna stood silently beside the bed, her face calm, but her eyes said otherwise.
"How's Hauen doing?" he asked softly, his voice still weak.
Mrs. Kim froze, her lips trembling as tears filled her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but Yuna quickly touched her arm, shaking her head slightly, silently stopping her.
Mrs. Kim swallowed hard and forced a smile. "She's okay, Suho… she's getting treatment," she said, her voice cracking at the end.
Suho looked at her carefully. Something about her face didn't feel right; her eyes told a different story. But he didn't have the strength to question further. His body felt heavy, and even thinking too much drained him.
The days passed slowly. One by one, his family members visited him, his father, his cousins, his friends—but not Hauen. Not even once.
A week later, Suho was still in the hospital. His speech had improved, but his right side of face was badly scarred. His head was shaved after the surgery, one arm was in a cast, and his legs still felt numb; he couldn't move them.
And yet, what hurt him most wasn't the pain. It was the silence.No sight of Yerin. No sight of Hauen.
Every time he asked, the answer was the same."She's getting treatment in another room."
But something inside him whispered, they were hiding something.
That evening, the doctor came in while Suho's father and grandfather were already there.
"Feeling better, Mr. Kim?" the doctor asked gently.
Suho nodded. "Yes… but I'm not sure why I can't feel my legs. There's no pain at all."
The doctor's expression tightened slightly, but he nodded. "Hmm, maybe they've just gone numb. Let's check."
He examined Suho carefully, pressing, tapping, and checking responses. His face turned more serious the longer he observed. Suho noticed it immediately. His heart started to race.
Mr. Kim and Grandpa watched silently, eyes filled with worry. "Is everything okay, doctor?" Mr. Kim finally asked.
The doctor looked at him for a moment, then gave a small, polite nod before turning to Suho's father. "Mr. Kim, I need to speak with you privately," he said quietly.
Mr. Kim exchanged a look with Grandpa, who frowned deeply, sensing something wasn't right. Still, both men followed the doctor out of the room, leaving Suho alone.
The room fell silent, except for the beeping of the monitor beside him. Suho tried once again to move his legs, tried harder this time, but nothing happened. No movement. No sensation.
Frustration burned through him. His fists clenched, his jaw tightened, and he closed his eyes, a deep ache spreading inside his chest.
Inside the doctor's cabin, the air was heavy. Suho's grandfather and father sat anxiously in front of the doctor, who was quietly studying the X-rays and scan reports. The silence felt endless until Grandpa finally spoke, his voice trembling with impatience.
"Is something wrong, doctor?"
The doctor sighed softly, took off his glasses, and said in a calm but serious tone, "Mr. Kim… please hold yourself. What I'm about to say is a little heartbreaking."
Suho's father straightened in his seat, his pulse quickening. "What is it, doctor? What happened to my son?"
The doctor took a deep breath and looked at them both. "Mr. Kim, your son's legs are paralyzed… and I'm afraid he won't be able to walk again."
For a moment, the room froze. Both men went pale.
"What?" Suho's father gasped, his voice breaking.
The doctor nodded slowly. "Yes… His lower spinal nerves were badly damaged in the accident. They aren't responding. At first, we hoped it was temporary because his entire body was unresponsive. But now… the rest of his body has recovered except his legs. It's most likely permanent."
Grandpa's hands shook. He couldn't process it, his grandson, the one who once ran, laughed, and carried so much energy, now confined to a bed.
"Doctor," he said, voice heavy with desperation, "there must be some way! Some therapy, treatment, anything! Please, don't say there's no hope. I don't care what it costs. Millions, billions, just save him. Please get him treated, please!"
The doctor looked down for a moment, then said gently, "We'll try everything we can, Mr. Kim. There are therapies that might help him regain partial movement, but… walking again completely—" he paused, struggling for words—"it will be very difficult."
Mr. Kim pressed his hands over his face while Grandpa leaned back in shock, tears welling in his old eyes. The only sound in the room was the quiet hum of the machines, echoing the weight of the news they could hardly bear to hear.
The doctor lowered his head, his voice heavy with helplessness. "I understand, Mr. Kim… but the chances are very slim. He can't even feel his legs yet, so the likelihood of him walking like before is extremely low."
Grandpa closed his eyes tightly, a single tear escaping and trailing down his cheek. His body shook as he began to cry openly.
Mr. Kim, struggling to hold himself together, reached out, trying to console his father. "Appa… don't… he'll be fine," he murmured, though the words sounded hollow even to his own ears.
But Grandpa couldn't stop. "How… how could this happen, Dantae? Why him? He's so young… he's been through so much already. Why, God? Why?"
In the outside of the room, someone silently stood, listening to every word, every heartbreak-filled plea of the men.