LAURA
Morning comes slowly.
Gray light creeps through the hospital windows, turning everything soft and unreal.
Grandma is already awake when I open my eyes, watching the ceiling like it personally offended her.
"Well," she says. "If I'm going to be discharged, someone should at least bring me coffee."
I laugh, exhausted and giddy all at once.
Jae is asleep in the chair beside the bed, arms folded, head tipped back against the wall.
For a second, I just look at him.
At the way his face goes unguarded when he thinks no one's watching.
I don't wake him. Grandma does.
She clears her throat.
Loudly.
Jae's eyes snap open instantly. Alert. Present. Like he never really left.
"Morning," he says, already standing.
Grandma studies him with sharp, curious eyes. "You're not hospital staff."
"No, ma'am," he says easily. "Jae."
"Hmm." She looks between us. Then smiles. "Well. Thank you for guarding my granddaughter. She worries more than she should."
Jae glances at me. Something unreadable flickers there.
"She didn't leave," he says simply.
Grandma nods like that tells her everything she needs to know.
By midmorning, she's cleared to go home.
Slow movement, strict instructions, a list of medications long enough to intimidate us all.
Jason offers to call a cab.
"I can drive," Jae says immediately.
It's not a question.
I look at him. "You don't have to, Jason—"
"I want to," he says, calm and final.
So he does.
The car ride is quiet, but not awkward.
Grandma hums softly to herself, tapping her fingers against her purse.
Jae drives like he's protecting something fragile, every turn careful.
When we pull into the driveway, Grandma pats his arm.
"You've got a steady way about you," she says.
Jae nods once. "I try."
Inside, he helps her settle into her chair, adjusts a pillow without being asked.
Efficient. Gentle. Like this is second nature.
Grandma watches him the whole time.
Then she looks at me.
"Oh," she says. "I see."
Heat floods my face. "Grandma—"
She waves a hand. "Relax. I'm old, not blind."
Jae steps back, giving us space.
"I hope you get better soon," he says.
Grandma smiles. "I plan to. I still have people to worry about."
Jae nods once, like he understands that too well.
"I'll head out," he says.
I walk him to the door.
Outside, the morning air is cool and clean.
The kind that makes everything feel possible again.
"Thank you," I say. "For everything."
He steps closer. Not touching. Giving me the option.
"You don't have to thank me," he says. "I told you. I'm not going anywhere."
My heart stutters.
I swallow. "Still."
He looks at me for a long second. Then lifts a hand and brushes his thumb lightly against my wrist.
Barely there. Enough to feel intentional.
"Get some rest," he says. "Call me if anything changes."
"I will."
He nods once, then steps back before I can say anything else.
Leaving before it costs him something.
I watch his car disappear down the street before I go back inside.
Grandma is already pretending not to smile.
***
I'm sitting on my bed, trying to breathe through the quiet, when I hear it — a soft scrape at the window.
I stand slowly and creep over. The window shakes just slightly. A shadow moves.
"James?" I whisper, heart thudding.
He's wearing a hat pulled low over his face, one hand gripping the window frame like he's afraid to let go.
"Hey," he says too casually.
I don't think — I pull him inside, shutting the window behind him.
He takes the hat off. His eye is swollen and his lip split.
"Oh my God," I whisper.
"Don't," he says quickly. "Please don't freak out."
"James—"
"My dad found out," he says flatly, tired. "About Gaby."
I don't ask what happened next. I can see it.
I pull him into a hug before he can protest.
He stiffens, then collapses into it like he's been holding himself together with duct tape.
"I didn't know where else to go," he admits.
"You came to the right place," I say softly.
"First time in years he actually… struck me. Hard," James says. Flat. Controlled.
"James… you should let someone—"
"No," he interrupts quickly. "I'm okay. I made it out. But I couldn't stay there. Not after that. I just… didn't know where else to go."
I step back just slightly, studying his face. "What will you do now?"
He swallows, jaw tight. "I… don't know yet. I have to figure it out. But right now… I just needed to get somewhere safe."
I rest a hand lightly on his arm. "You are safe. You're not alone."
He exhales slowly, shoulders relaxing just a fraction. "I know. Thanks."
We stand there in the quiet.
Something in me hardens.
This is horrible.
A father shouldn't be able to do that to his son.