Husfriends ~𝓨𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓶𝓲𝓷

Chapter 11, yoongi

Chapter 11
Yoongi

The first rays of sunlight filtered into the hospital room, casting a soft golden glow over Jimin’s sleeping figure. The gentle morning breeze carried the fresh scent of a new day, rustling the sheer curtains slightly. It was peaceful—almost too peaceful.

I had barely slept, my body exhausted, but my eyes never left him. Even in sleep, he looked delicate, his features relaxed, his breathing even. It felt surreal watching him like this, knowing that when he woke up, he might still not remember me.

Jimin stirred, shifting slightly, his face scrunching as the sunlight danced across his skin. A small whine left his lips as he tried to escape the warmth creeping in. Then, slowly, his eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light before they landed on me.

I smiled at him, my heart swelling at the sight of his sleepy face. “Good morning, my husfriend.”

He blinked a few times, clearly still groggy, before recognition settled in. His lips curved into a small pout as he mumbled, “You cat face human, good morning.” His voice was laced with mock irritation, but I caught the slight upward twitch of his lips.

A soft chuckle escaped me. No matter how much he had forgotten, some things never changed.

I reached for the tray of food I had prepared earlier and placed it in front of him. “Come on, let’s eat,” I said, tearing a piece of toast and holding it up to his lips.

Jimin eyed me skeptically before sighing in defeat and taking a bite. I fed him patiently, ensuring he ate every bit before handing him a glass of water and his medicine. The moment he swallowed the pills, his nose scrunched up in disgust.

“Ugh, these are so bitter,” he muttered, sticking out his tongue.

I chuckled at his childish antics. “You act as if it’s your first time taking medicine.”

“It feels like it,” he huffed.

Before I could tease him more, the door opened, and a nurse walked in. She smiled warmly before approaching Jimin’s bed to check on his condition. I remained by his side, watching as she carefully unwrapped the bandages from his head. A fresh layer of gauze replaced the old one, the wound now looking cleaner.

Jimin winced slightly but stayed quiet, his fingers gripping the sheets. Without thinking, I reached out and took his hand in mine, squeezing it gently. His grip tightened in response, and even though he didn’t say anything, I knew he appreciated the comfort.

Once the nurse was done, she left with a polite nod, leaving us alone again. The atmosphere in the room lightened, and soon, we were chatting like we always did—laughing about random things, teasing each other as if the weight of everything had momentarily lifted.

But I knew the moment wouldn’t last. Jimin needed answers.

“Wait here,” I said suddenly, standing up.

I walked over to the small table in the corner and picked up the thick photo album I had brought from home. Holding it tightly, I returned to Jimin’s side and placed it in his lap.

“I brought this for you,” I said softly. “It’s proof that we’re married.”

Jimin hesitated before flipping open the album. The first page held a picture of us—standing side by side in wedding outfits, his bright smile lighting up the image while I stood next to him with my usual smirk. His fingers traced the photograph slowly, his brows furrowing.

As he turned the pages, his eyes widened, lips parting slightly. Each photograph told a different story—our wedding ceremony, the way we had looked at each other, the way his arms had wrapped around me. It was all there, captured in frozen moments of time.