just pretend.

32.

Minho's vision blurred as he tried to focus on the figure approaching him. The pain was overwhelming, a searing fire coursing through every part of his body. The young doctor’s voice cut through the haze, serious and urgent. “We’ll have to get an MRI scan done”, he said, the words resonating with the gravity of Minho’s situation. “It looks like your leg might be broken. Your ribs are severely swollen, they could be broken too, and we fear there may be internal bleeding. We need to send you for an MRI immediately to rule out any serious injury.” The doctor’s face was a mix of concern and authority as he spoke. Minho could barely process the information, each word blending with the throbbing pain that seemed to engulf him. He tried to move his right leg but found it completely unresponsive, an additional wave of agony crashing over him. The doctor called over two nurses, who quickly took charge. They maneuvered Minho onto a stretcher with practiced efficiency. As they wheeled him down the corridor, Minho struggled to catch a glimpse of Jisung. His vision was hazy, but he saw Jisung’s face, his expression a mix of worry and distress. The intensity of the pain was slowly crashing over him like a wave as the adrenaline was wearing off, making every movement excruciating. Minho’s body was wracked with tremors, his breathing ragged as he tried to focus on Jisung. His attempt to reach out or say something was stifled by the sheer force of his agony. As the stretcher moved farther down the hall, Minho's world narrowed to the dull hum of the hospital machinery and the distant echo of footsteps. He felt the oppressive weight of the pain and helplessness settle over him, hoping for relief and clinging to the image of Jisung's worried face, even as it slipped out of sight.

The MRI room was deafening, the clamor of the machine’s magnets and coils resonating around him, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out Minho’s thoughts. He stayed perfectly still, every muscle tensed, breath going flat, trying to keep his body from moving even a fraction as the machine whirred and clicked around him. His mind raced, leaping from one painful thought to another. How would he explain to Jisung that his father was behind everything that had happened? The very man who had seemingly been just a shadow in the background was now directly responsible for the chaos and terror that had ensued. How could he make Jisung understand that he had been forced to confront his father, fighting back with whatever strength he had left, despite the injuries he had sustained in the accident? How could he possibly find the words to express any of this, knowing that Jisung deserved to know the truth, no matter how devastating it was? Above all, the crushing weight of the news he would have to deliver about his mother. How could he ever bring himself to tell Jisung that she had died in the accident? The thought of how this would shatter him, the grief that would follow, was almost too much to bear. The pain and guilt surged through him, mingling with the physical pain, as he lay there, immobilized, waiting for the MRI to end. Whenever Minho closed his eyes, he was haunted by the sight of Jisung’s father’s face, twisted with fury and drenched in blood. The image was seared into his mind, a chilling premonition of the nightmares that awaited him. The memory of his hands tightening around Minho’s throat made him shudder, the phantom pain so vivid that he had to resist the urge to touch his neck. Every attempt to shake off the torment only made the vision of the violent confrontation more intense. In a desperate bid to defend himself while the air was being pressed out of his lungs, Minho mustered every ounce of strength he had left. His arms, heavy and pained from the injuries, still managed to deliver a blow to Mr. Han’s throat. The force of the impact sent the older man reeling backward. Minho watched as Jisung’s father struggled for breath, his face grimacing from pain and his breathing ragged, interrupted by violent coughs. To Minho’s luck, a vehicle had stopped right behind the demolished cars. An elderly woman, her face a mask of shock and concern, rushed over. Her voice cut through the air as she frantically asked questions, her voice rising above the desperate coughing of Jisung’s father. Minho watched her call for help and heard sirens in the distance not much later, slowly growing louder. Within minutes, emergency responders flooded the scene. But it was too late for Jisung's mother, and Minho would never forget the sight of her eyes wide with shock as the paramedics pulled her lifeless body from the wreckage. The enormity of the situation crashed down on Minho, leaving him trapped in a maelstrom of painful memories and the harsh reality of what had happened.