Falling For The Park Brothers' Sister ⚊ Nishimura Riki

Chapter Fifty Three

The silence in the ICU waiting room was suffocating. Each breath felt too loud, each rustle of movement too sharp against the sterile hum of the hospital. Chanyeol stood near the door, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. His body was rigid, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“I’ll go first,” he murmured, voice low but strained, as if saying it out loud made everything more real.

Jimin, standing beside him, nodded. “I’ll come with you.”

No one argued. They all knew only two visitors were allowed inside at a time.

Chanyeol stepped forward, but as his fingers brushed the door handle, his body refused to move. He hesitated, his breath hitching. His mind screamed at him to go in—to be strong—but his heart pounded violently against his ribs, dreading what he was about to see.

Jimin gently touched his arm, grounding him. "Come on," he whispered, and together, they stepped inside.

The sight waiting for them nearly shattered Chanyeol.

Jiyoo lay motionless on the hospital bed, her small frame swallowed by the sterile white sheets. Wires and tubes surrounded her, keeping her alive, while the soft, steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the room.

A ventilator helped her breathe, the small rise and fall of her chest the only sign that she was still with them.

Chanyeol’s breath caught in his throat. His strong, reckless, stubborn little sister—reduced to this fragile, unmoving form.

It felt wrong. So horribly, painfully wrong.

His legs felt like they weighed a ton, but he forced himself to move closer. Every step was heavier than the last, like he was walking through quicksand. His hands trembled at his sides, his jaw locked so tightly it ached.

"Jiyoo..." he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper.

He slowly reached for her hand, gently wrapping his fingers around hers. Her skin was cold. Too cold.

A sharp exhale left him as he blinked away the burning in his eyes. "Wake up, Princess," he murmured, his voice breaking. "Big brother is waiting for you."

He squeezed her hand slightly, hoping, praying she would squeeze back. But she didn’t. She just lay there, lost in a world he couldn’t reach.

Jimin swallowed hard beside him, his own hands trembling as he smoothed Jiyoo’s hair away from her pale face. His lips quivered, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“You always called yourself our princess,” Jimin whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “But what is a castle without its princess, Jiyoo?” His throat bobbed as he struggled to breathe past the pain. “If you leave us... I won’t be able to live with myself. I can’t—I can’t lose you.”

His shoulders shook, his usually calm and composed demeanor cracking at the edges.

“Please,” he pleaded, voice breaking. “Please don’t go where we can’t follow.”

The only response was the rhythmic beeping of the monitors.

Chanyeol let out a shuddering breath, his other hand coming up to cover his face for a brief moment.

He never cried—not in front of his siblings. But now, standing here, he felt utterly helpless.

"You’re a fighter," he whispered, gripping Jiyoo’s hand tighter. "You always have been. So fight this too, okay? Please, Jiyoo. Please come back to us."

Jimin let out a quiet sob, but quickly covered his mouth, as if afraid to let the sound linger in the room.

For what felt like an eternity, the two brothers stood there, waiting, hoping, begging for any sign that she could hear them. But there was nothing. Just the hum of machines and the quiet, lifeless stillness of the room.