⊂★⊃ 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁 𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗲

༊*·˚ 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 -- -͙- The hospital's automatic doors slid open with a low hum, but to Yeonjun, it was as if the world had gone silent. The usual clamor of the city outside—a cacophony of car horns, distant voices, and the steady hum of life—faded into nothingness as his heart pounded in his chest. It wasn't a normal heartbeat; it was erratic, almost painful, as if each beat was tearing something inside him apart. His legs felt heavy, as if the ground beneath him was shifting, threatening to swallow him whole.

The sterile smell of disinfectant filled his nostrils, sharp and biting, making him wince. It was a scent that clung to everything, reminding him of the many hours he had spent in hospitals as a child, visiting his mother. He hated that smell. But now, it was inescapable, wrapping around him like a suffocating shroud. The cold, artificial light above him buzzed faintly, casting a pale, sickly glow on the white-tiled floor.

Yeonjun stumbled forward, his eyes wide and unfocused, barely registering the people around him—the nurses in their crisp uniforms, the patients shuffling by in hospital gowns, the soft beeping of machines that seemed to echo in his skull. His mind was a fog of fear and disbelief, a storm of emotions he couldn't name or control. How could this be happening? Just a little more than 24 hours ago, they had been laughing together, her eyes sparkling as she teased him about his clumsy attempt at making dinner. And now...

He felt a tear slip down his cheek, warm and salty, tracing a slow path down to his chin before dripping onto his shirt. The fabric was already soaked, a dark, spreading stain where he had absentmindedly wiped at his eyes, again and again, as if trying to erase the reality that had been forced upon him. But there was no erasing it. No waking up from this nightmare.

The air around him felt thick, almost tangible, pressing down on him like a weight he couldn't bear. His breath came in shallow gasps, each one more labored than the last, as if the very act of breathing had become too difficult, too painful. His vision blurred, the hallway ahead of him a distorted tunnel of light and shadow. The walls seemed to close in on him, narrowing with every step, until all he could see was the door at the end, the one that led to her room.

He paused for a moment, his hand hovering just inches from the door handle. His fingers trembled, a fine, uncontrollable shake that ran up his arm, making him feel weak, powerless. The door was cool to the touch, its surface smooth and unyielding, a barrier between him and the woman he loved more than anything in the world.

For a second, he considered turning back, running away from the unbearable truth that lay on the other side of that door. But then he remembered her smile, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed, the warmth of her hand in his, and he knew he couldn't. He had to see her, had to be with her, even if it shattered him into a million pieces.

Taking a deep, trembling breath, he pushed the door open, the sound of its creaking hinges a harsh, jarring noise in the stillness of the room. The sight that greeted him made his heart clench, a physical pain that radiated through his chest, making it hard to breathe. There she was, lying so still, so pale, her face devoid of the color that had always brought him such joy.

The machines around her beeped steadily, a cruel reminder of the life that hung by a thread, so fragile, so delicate. Tubes and wires snaked across her body, connecting her to the cold, unfeeling devices that kept her alive, but it was her stillness that tore at him the most. She looked so peaceful, so serene, as if she was simply asleep. But he knew better. He knew that the venom coursing through her veins was a silent killer, insidious and relentless, threatening to steal her away from him with every passing second.