Second Overtime | JENSOO & CHAELISA

Chapter LIII

Jisoo was mid-sentence talking about the hospital chair being designed by someone who'd never encountered a human spine, when the door opened and Jiyong walked in holding a sheaf of papers like they were winning lottery tickets.

Jennie saw his face before she heard the words. The exhaustion was still there, carved into the lines around his mouth and the shadows beneath his eyes, but something else had replaced the gray weight he'd been carrying since the hospital corridor. He looked like a man who'd set down a burden he'd forgotten he was holding.

"We won."

The words landed in the quiet room and Jennie felt them reverberate through her chest, down to her fingertips. She waited for the caveat, the asterisk, the but that had followed every piece of good news in her life for as long as she could remember.

It didn't come.

Jiyong laid the court order on the tray table, fresh from the printer, still carrying that faint chemical warmth and walked her through every line.

Her mother couldn't contact her. Couldn't send anyone else to contact her. Couldn't enter her room. Couldn't remove her from the hospital. Couldn't make decisions about her treatment, her education, her passport. Little Hope was named specifically as a prohibited placement.

The school's provisional withdrawal remained in effect, but the records were frozen, not transferred. The passport restriction was locked down.

Temporary legal authority had been granted to him, but, and here he slowed, watching her face, her stated preferences had to be documented and considered. Her attorney and Ms. Jung had insisted. He had agreed without argument.

Jennie traced her own name on the page. Kim Jennie. Not minor child. Not patient or daughter of. Her name, printed in black ink, attached to rights she'd never had before.

"So mom can't overrule me anymore?" she asked.

"Not under this order," Ms. Jung confirmed.

Jisoo, who'd been clutching an unopened water bottle through the explanation, raised it solemnly. "To the court finally doing something useful."

They tapped cup, bottle, phone, and paper together over the tray. The hollow click of plastic was the best sound Jennie had ever heard.

Then Jiyong cleared his throat. "There's more."

Jisoo lowered her bottle. "More good news? Today's getting suspicious."

"Jennie, there's no reason to keep you here any longer."

Her hand stilled on the cup. "What?"

"The hospital confirmed that with the protective order in place, you can be discharged. There's no medical necessity for you to stay, and the safeguarding team is satisfied the risk has been managed." His voice was steady, but she saw the tension in his shoulders. "You don't have to stay here anymore."

Jennie looked around the room, the monitors, the IV pole, the muted television, the lavender lotion Nurse Park had left, the window that had been both comfort and threat. She'd lived in this bed long enough to learn the rhythm of the night shift, the squeak of the medicine cart, the pitch of the elevator down the hall. Leaving felt like stepping off a ledge.

"I'm not going back to that house," she said. It wasn't a question.

"No," Jiyong agreed. "You're not. I've arranged a rental, a condominium in a secured building about twenty minutes from here. The lease is in my name. The security desk has your mother's photograph and the court order. The elevators and common areas require keycard access. No one gets in without approval."