Silent Vows

Part 44

Fear.
The kind that coils around your chest and squeezes until you can barely breathe.
The fear of losing someone you love more than words could ever hold.

The fear of losing someone who lives in every heartbeat, in every breath you take, like they’re stitched into your very being.

It’s heavier than anything.

It crushes you slowly, like waves pulling you under, over and over, until there’s nothing left but pain.

And the aching silence it leaves behind.

He sat there, frozen on the cold bench, still as stone.

Not a word, not a sound, just the quiet thudding of his heart, matching the ticking of the clock on the sterile white wall.

Each tick reminded him: she was in there. And he was out here.
Waiting.
Helpless.

The tears had dried, but the pain hadn’t. His eyes were red and swollen, his heart raw and trembling.

He stared blankly at the floor, hands folded in his lap like a prayer never finished.

He was breaking in silence.

Not loudly, not in screams, but in the quiet, in the stillness, where real pain hides.

All he wanted was to see her again. To hold her. To hear her laugh, whole and alive, like none of this had ever happened.

His mother watched him quietly, a tremble in her chest, while Jimin sat beside her, wordless.

The sight of him like this, so silent, so shattered, was more painful than anything they could say.

His gaze flickered between the glowing red light above the door.

Red, meaning she was still inside, still fighting.

Green would mean it was over. But over in what way?

Then—

A click.

The sound echoed through the corridor, sharp and sudden.

Jungkook’s head jerked up.

The light above the door… It was green.

The door creaked open. A doctor stepped out.

And for one breathless second, everything stopped.

His heart, his thoughts, the world, still.

He shot to his feet, legs weak beneath him, and took a hesitant step forward.

His lips parted, but no words came.

Only the pounding of his heart, and the desperate, silent prayer:

Please. Let her be okay.

“How… how is she?” His voice barely made it out; a broken whisper, fragile, almost scared to exist.

His eyes searched the doctor’s face, fear carved into every line of his expression, desperate, terrified of what he might hear.

“She’s alright, Mr. Jeon,” the doctor said gently. “The surgery went well. She’s safe now.”

A breath escaped Jungkook’s lips, shaky, trembling; one he hadn’t even known he’d been holding.

His mother let out a soft sob, her hand finding his shoulder in a trembling pat, a bittersweet smile on her tear-streaked face.

“Can I… can I see her?” he asked, eyes locked on the door, then flicking back to the doctor with quiet desperation.

“In a little while,” the doctor replied kindly. “Soon,” the doctor said softly. “We’re shifting her to the room now.