Married to my mafia school bully

Welcome back

Jungkook pov:

A sound jolted me awake. A sharp, wet, gasping sound – like someone was choking, struggling for air.

For a moment, I was disoriented, my mind sluggish with exhaustion. The hospital room was dimly lit, cast in the soft glow of the monitors beside the bed. My forehead had been resting against her hand, my fingers still tangled with hers, as if letting go would somehow sever the fragile thread tying her to this world.

Then I heard it again.

A strangled, wheezing noise, followed by a shuddering jerk of her body.

Panic shot through me like a bullet. My heart nearly stopped as I snapped my head up, my gaze locking onto her.

She was choking.

The ventilator – the goddamn tube down her throat – was suffocating her. Her body convulsed slightly, her fingers twitching weakly against the sheets, her face contorting in distress.

"Shit – Y/n," I gasped, my pulse hammering in my ears.

Without thinking, I lunged forward, slamming the emergency button on the wall over and over until my fingers ached. "Come on, come on," I muttered under my breath, my entire body wound tight with terror.

Seconds felt like hours before the door burst open, a doctor rushing in, slightly out of breath.

"What's going on?" she asked, eyes flicking from me to Y/n as if I'd just startled her from some peaceful break.

"She's choking! That's what's going on!" My voice was sharp, frantic, barely controlled.

The doctor hesitated for a split second, instinctively stepping back. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to take a breath. "I – I'm sorry," I gritted out, my voice shaking. "But please – my girlfriend is choking. Help her!"

That snapped her into action.

She rushed to Y/n's side, her hands moving with practiced efficiency as she assessed the situation. "She's waking up," the doctor said quickly. "She's trying to breathe on her own, but the intubation tube is obstructing her airway."

"What – what does that mean? Is she –"

Before I could finish, she moved with precision, her gloved hands gripping the tube in Y/n's throat.

"Hold her steady," the doctor instructed.

I barely registered the words before my hands instinctively found Y/n's shoulders, bracing her trembling body as the doctor carefully withdrew the tube. The moment it slid free, a wet, rasping gasp tore from Y/n's lips, her chest rising sharply as her lungs struggled to adjust.

And then – she breathed.

A shaky, unsteady inhale, followed by another. The sound sent a sob crawling up my throat.

"She's breathing," I whispered, my hands trembling against her skin.

The doctor leaned in closer. "Y/n, can you hear me?" she asked gently.

A weak flutter of her lashes. A slight furrow of her brows.

"Y/n, if you can hear me, try to move your fingers," the doctor encouraged.

I held my breath, my entire body locked in place, my eyes desperately searching for a sign. And then – like some kind of miracle – her fingers twitched.

First on her left hand, the faintest of movements against the sheets. Then her right.

A choked sound left my lips. I barely registered that I had grabbed her hand again, my thumb stroking over her skin as if to reassure her that she wasn't alone. "Oh my god," I breathed. Relief flooded my veins so fast it made me dizzy.

She was here. She was alive.

Her lashes fluttered, weak at first, then more deliberate, as if she was fighting her way through layers of darkness. My breath hitched, hands tightening around hers.

Then – finally – her eyes opened.

Not fully, just a sliver of hazy, unfocused light, but it was enough. Enough to make my heart lurch so violently in my chest I thought it might give out.

"Hi, little one," I whispered, my voice barely holding together. A single tear slipped down my cheek, but for once, it wasn't out of pain. No. It was relief. It was joy. It was her. "Welcome back."

Her lips parted, but at first, no sound came out. She blinked slowly, trying to adjust, her brows scrunching slightly in confusion. My fingers brushed against her cheek, a silent reassurance that she was safe, that she wasn't alone.

She swallowed, her throat working against the strain of hours of silence. Then, in the softest, most fragile voice – like wind passing through fragile glass – she rasped, "Jungkook?"

God. I nearly broke right then and there.

"I'm here," I choked out immediately, shifting closer so she could see me more clearly. "I'm right here, baby."

She blinked again, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something more. I saw the flicker of frustration in her eyes – she was trying, pushing herself even when her body wasn't ready.

"Easy," I soothed, running my thumb over the back of her hand. "Don't force yourself."

She ignored me. Of course she did. Stubborn as always.

Her dry lips trembled, and I quickly reached for the cup of water on the bedside table, bringing the straw to her lips. "Here, just a sip."

She obeyed, taking in the tiniest amount before pulling away, her throat convulsing slightly as she swallowed.

For a long moment, she just breathed. Deep, slow, steady. Her gaze never left mine, though – tired but searching, as if trying to confirm this was real. That I was real.

Then, so quietly I almost missed it, she rasped, "You were crying."

I let out a breathless chuckle, swiping at my damp cheeks. "Of course I was crying," I admitted, my voice thick. "I thought I lost you."

Her brows knitted together slightly, like she was trying to remember. I could see the fog of unconsciousness still clinging to her, memories fighting to return. Her fingers twitched weakly in my grasp.

"What... happened?" she murmured.

I exhaled, my throat tight. "You scared the hell out of me," I said softly. "You got attacked, and... I thought I was going to lose you, Y/n. I thought –" I broke off, shaking my head. "But you're here. That's all that matters."

She hummed faintly, her gaze flickering downward, then back to me. "You stayed."

I swallowed hard. "I'll always stay."

Something in her eyes shifted then – something warm, something vulnerable. Her fingers weakly curled around mine, barely there, but enough to make my entire body go still.

"Thank you," she whispered.

A fresh wave of emotion surged through me. I pressed a kiss to her knuckles, lingering for a moment. "Don't thank me," I murmured. "Just keep fighting, little one."

She offered the faintest, most exhausted ghost of a smile.

And it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.