Duty and Death

The Last Breath

The sound of the surgeons's urgent voice was muffled in the haze of the pain that clouded my mind. I felt the cold metal of the operating table against my back, and the bright light overhead was blinding, piercing through my closed eyelids. I tried to move, but my body felt heavy, each breath a struggle. There was a strange pressure in my chest, like something was squezzing the life out of me.
"She's losing too much blood!" the surgeon's voice cut through the fog, frantic and sharp. "We have to get the baby out now, or neither of them will make it."
I couldn't see what was happening, but I could sense the panic in the room. The hum of machines, the rapid foorsteps, the rustle of fabric-all of it blended into a chaotic symphony tugging sensation, then a sudden release of pressure from my abdomen. It was as if something inside me had shifted, a life being pulled from my own.
"Almost there," the surgeon said, his voice tight with concentration. "Just a little more."
Time seemed to strecth, each second dragging by like an eternity. My minf was a blur of pain and confusion, and I could feel myself slipping in and out of consciousness. The cold was creeping back into my limbs, and I fought to stay awake, to hold on to the fragile thread that connected me to the world.
And then, piercing through the fog, came the sound that shattered the slience. A baby's cry, thin and sahrp, filled the room. It was  the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. My eyes fluttered open, my vision swimming, and turned my head to the side. I could see the tiny figure in the surgeon's hands, red-faced and wailing arms flailing in the air.
"A girl," the surgeon annouced, his voice thick with relief. "She's alive.
A girl. My daughter. Our daughter.
Tears blurred my vision, and I blinked them away, focusing on the tiny, squirming bundle. She was so small, so fragile, but she was alive. She was here. I felt a surge of love so powerful it took my breath away. Despite the pain, despite the fear, I felt a strange sense of peace.
The surgeon carefully handed the baby to Jungkook, who took her with shaking hands, his face awash with tears and awe. Jungkook looked down at our daughter, his expression a mix of wonder and pure, overwhelming love.
"Jungkook," I whsipered, my voice barely audible. "Take care of her. Love her. Tell her... tell her I loved her so much."
Jungkook's eyes filled with tears, and he looked at me, his voice breaking. "Hyejin, don't say that. You're going to be okay. We're going to get through this. You, me, and our daughter. We're goung to be a family."
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to hold on to the promise of a future together. But I could feel the life draining out of me, the cold darkness pulling me away. I froced myself to stay awake fro just a little longer, to say the words I needed him to hear.
"Jungkook," I murmured, srtuggling to keep my eyes open. "You were... the love of my life. I never told you... but you were."
"Hyejin, please," Jungkook sobbed, pressing his forehead against mine. "Stay with me. I need you. Our daughter needs you."
I wanted to promise him I would stay. I wanted to tell him I would never leave. But the darkness was too strong, too powerful. I could feel it wrapping around me, pulling me under. My eyes drifted closed, and I felt a single tear slip down my cheek.
"I love you, Kook," I whispered, my voice barely a breath. "Take care of her... for me."
The last thing I heard was the sound of our baby's cries, a fragile, beautiful sound that filled the room. I held on to that sound, that tiny, precious life we had created, as the darkness took me.

And once again...

There was nothing.