𝐌𝐈 𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐀 | 𝙏𝙃𝙑

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒 ⁠◎ 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬?•°

'Edited'

Author's pov

He reached her in time—just barely. His arm wrapped firmly around her waist, and with one urgent pull, they crashed to the ground in a flurry of limbs and desperation. The sound of tires roared past them a split second later, the black car speeding by without hesitation, without remorse. It didn't slow. It didn't stop. It vanished.

They lay there, breathless.

Taehyung's hand had instinctively slipped beneath the back of her head, cushioning it from the hard impact. The world around them seemed to stand still for a moment, like time was holding its breath.

Heaven stirred first.

She slowly sat up, dazed. Small scrapes etched across her palms and arms, barely noticeable compared to the storm thrashing within her. Taehyung rose shortly after, ignoring the sting in his knuckles and the heat on his scalp.

Blood trickled down from a fresh wound on his forehead—a stone had caught him squarely during the fall, slicing into flesh without mercy. Still, he said nothing.

Heaven stood in silence, confused... no, overwhelmed. Her eyes searched his face as if hoping it would hold an answer to a question she hadn't dared to ask herself. Why had he saved her?

She hadn't frozen on that road out of fear. She'd stopped because for once, doing nothing felt easier than pretending to survive. She had wanted the car to hit her. That moment—brief as it was—had offered what nothing else could: release.

She had been born into a world of curses instead of lullabies. Raised in a house where words hurt more than silence. She'd carried those wounds into every year of her life, into every relationship, into every quiet evening when there was no one left to lie to.

She had never believed a stranger would intervene.

And yet... here he was.

Without a word, she extended her hand toward him.

Taehyung met her gaze, caught off guard by her quiet gesture, but took it. As he stood, she steadied him.

Still reeling, he couldn't contain the question that had been clawing at his chest.

"Why didn't you move?" he asked, his voice low but weighted, his brows drawn in disbelief.

She didn't answer.

He asked again, more directly now, confusion edging into accusation. "Did you want to die?"

The question floated in the air—sharp, raw, inescapable.

She said nothing, but her eyes welled with tears that refused to fall. Her silence wasn't denial—it was confession.

Yes, she wanted it all to end.

But the words didn't come. They never did. And that hurt more than she could admit. Because what's more agonizing than wanting to scream your pain into the world and realizing you've forgotten how to make sound?

A voice broke through the quiet.

"Sir, are you alright?" Mr. Han came rushing over, having witnessed everything from the other side of the road.

Taehyung gave a curt nod, keeping his gaze on her a second longer.

There was nothing more to ask—she wouldn't answer. Not today.

He turned, preparing to leave.

But then her voice—thin and shaky—reached out to him.

"Wait."

He paused.

She took a breath. Looked up.

"I... I'm sorry," she murmured. "You got hurt because of me."

He turned to face her fully now. Her apology wasn't casual—it was layered in guilt. She wasn't grateful he'd saved her; how could she be, when she never wanted to be saved?

She hadn't asked him to bleed for her. That burden felt unbearable.

When he'd questioned her, she had almost told him everything—about the weight in her chest, the numbness in her limbs, the dreams that weren't dreams at all. But no words had come. Just pain.

And so she stood there, eyes brimming, heart splitting in silence.

"It hurts," her silence seemed to say, "when you want to speak, but your soul's too tired to push the words out."

Taehyung's gaze softened—almost imperceptibly.

"Before you do something like that again," he said quietly, "think of the people who love you."

She nodded once, just to end the moment.

But the thought nestled somewhere deep: Do I even have people who love me?

She turned and walked away—back to the place she lived, but never called home. A set of four walls that housed her body, not her heart.

A place she was forced to return to, even when every part of her wanted to disappear.

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