𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐘[𝐥.𝐡𝐬𝐱𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]──희승✓

Epilogue; To you

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𐀔𓂃 ִֶ

The only sound, the only thing that seemed to matter in this silence of hospital room, was the steady beep of the heart monitor.

Beep

It was like the ticking of an invisible clock, its time marking her existence in this moment.

The stillness of the room presses in on him, thick and heavy, and it takes a moment to realize that the sounds around him.

He blinks, but the light is too bright, too sharp, and his eyes close again, squeezing the darkness back into his skull.

He could hear a familiar voice. "Doctor, nurse?! My son is awake!"

His eyelids flutter again, a little slower this time, as if the world is still too much to take in at once. The light is less harsh now.

Someone is speaking softly—he can hear the words, but they’re not clear.

"Lee Heeseung, Can you hear me?"

"Lee Heeseung, if you can hear me please answer me."

His head feels like it’s full of cotton, his thoughts slow and sluggish, as if they’re trapped in a haze. He tries to move, to say something, but his throat is dry, and his lips are stiff.

"Y-yes." He managed to say a word.

"Heeseung, can you recognize the person next to me?" Doctor asked him.

Heeseung gaze slowly shifted to the person next ro him. Dad.

"Dad?" He said.

His dad left out a soft teary chuckle and barely managed to smile.

"Since he has been unconscious for 3 days, he must be feeling weak right now. He is gonna be fine after few hours. Let him rest for awhile. If his condition gets better, he can discharge from tomorrow." Doctor instructed to Mr.Lee.

"Thank you, Doctor." Mr.Lee bowed down.

_

The room is quiet again, air still between the dad and the son.

His dad slowly and hesitantly took Heeseung’s hand, cupping it gently, as if it were made of fragile glass.

Then, a sharp, burning pain shot through Heeseung’s palm. He glanced down at his hand, and there it was. His mind finally caught up to the present, the fog lifting.

The bandaged palm was raw and tender beneath the wrapping. His own hand—his own mistake—lay there, silently accusing him of something he couldn't undo. The memory of the blade, the flash of desperation to unalive the unborn baby, the reckless decision, physically stopping the blade with his own hand, the drips of his own blood tracing his path … it all came rushing back in a flood of guilt and regret.

"Heeseung..." His dad’s voice cracked as he slowly met his son's lifeless eyes. "I'm sorry, son. I.. "

His face was weary, hollowed by the months—or was it years?—of regret. His eyes, red and swollen with unshed tears.

"I’ve failed you. I’m... I’m not the father I should’ve been. I don’t deserve to be."

Heeseung’s gaze flickered between the bandaged hand in his father’s grip and the tear-streaked face before him.

His father continued, his voice low, nearly broken, "I was too focused on... everything else. Business, new family, regrets,.... all that noise. I didn’t see what was happening right in front of me. I didn’t see you."