❛ ━ꜱᴄᴀʀʀᴇᴅ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ʙᴏᴏᴋ ᴛᴡᴏ━ ❜ After their world went up in smoke following the heartbreaking loss of their child, Choi San and Jung Wooyoung's engagement shattered into pieces. Each day became a battle for survival in a sea of grief. Struggling to c...
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─•~❉ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ❉~•─
In the following days, I lay quietly in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, overwhelmed by the severity of my symptoms after the second chemotherapy session. No amount of preparation could have readied me for the onslaught of sensations: the chill of a cold trickle down my neck, the desperate grasp for composure as my body waged war against itself. I had stopped touching my hair, resigning myself to its inevitable loss, waking each morning to find my pillow increasingly covered in strands, quickly changing the pillowcases with my eyes shut, unable to face the reality reflected back at me.
Trying to muster strength for San and Hwa-Young was becoming increasingly difficult. My resilience seemed to dissipate with each passing moment, every minor setback chipping away at my fortitude. As my heart pounded vigorously against my chest, I managed to sit up in bed, my movements slow and deliberate. Throwing the pillow onto the floor, I pulled the covers over myself, seeking some comfort in the cocoon of my bedding, a temporary shelter from the relentless storm of my illness and fears.
The room fell silent except for the occasional creaks of the house and my labored breathing. My thoughts churned with worry and fear, each second stretching interminably. As the shadows shifted with the passing hours, San entered the room. He hesitated at the doorway, his face etched with concern.
"Hey," he said softly, breaking the silence. He moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching for mine, but I withdrew slightly, lost in my turmoil.
San paused, then spoke again, his voice a blend of frustration and worry. "Wooyoung, talk to me. Please, you don't have to go through this alone. I know it's hard, but shutting me out won't make it any easier for either of us."
I felt a pang of guilt mixed with my own frustration. "I'm not trying to shut you out, San. It's just... everything is so overwhelming. I feel like I'm slowly falling apart and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Every time I look at myself, I see less of who I used to be. And I... I'm scared," I admitted, my voice breaking as I finally met his gaze.
San's expression softened, his eyes filled with unspoken pain. "I know you're scared, and I'm scared too. But I'm here, and I'll be here no matter what happens. We'll get through this together, Wooyoung. I just need you to let me in, even when it feels like everything is falling apart."
I turned away, clutching the duvets tightly. Comforting words had lost their power; there were no phrases left that could ease the overwhelming tide of emotions I was experiencing. The need to be alone felt urgent, an imperative to shield myself from the well-meaning but ultimately futile attempts to soothe my distress. As I buried my face into the soft fabric, the quiet enveloped me, a solitary cocoon where I could face my struggles privately.
"I want to be left alone, just alone—" I whispered quietly, striving to keep my tone even. In that moment, I craved solitude, a respite from any company.
