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❀ t h i r t y - n i n e ❀

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c h a p t e r
t h i r t y - n i n e

Ignoring the stinging pain on her stomach, she smiled, seeing the parents in front of her. She pursed her lips right after, slightly clutching onto her stomach, hoping not to be noticed by anyone. The pain won't subside — in fact, it was getting worse. And the aches on her head weren't helping at all.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi asked.

She immediately sat up straight and pretend that nothing was happening. "I'm okay."

"And you, Yoongi?" The old man asked. "Are you okay now?"

"I'm definitely feeling better." He said. "Because she took care of me." He held her hand.

But then he noticed something. Her hand was cold. He looked up to her and noticed her pale, chapped lips slightly pursed. She was looking bothered.

He started to worry about the girl even more. "Are you sure you are okay? Don't hide anything from me." He whispered.

"I'm okay, Yoongi-ah." She reassured, weakly smiling.

As the food was set by the mother, she felt worse. Just by looking at the food, she wanted to throw all of her breakfast up.

As soon as she felt a lump on her throat, she finally didn't handle it. "I'll go to the bathroom for a while if you don't mind." She stood up and bowed, before running in the bedroom where she and Yoongi slept.

She ran into the bathroom and rushed to the sink, and threw everything up.

But what she vomited didn't seem like the breakfast that Yoongi's mother cooked. In fact, it was different. Way different.

Instead, she saw dark red liquid lying on the sink, that came from her own mouth.

Blood.

She held her lips and looked at her hand. Her fingers were already covered in red liquid from her lips.

She coughed and coughed, not caring if she was heard by any of the people inside the house. The pain on her body was getting out of hand. She knew she wasn't in a good state ever since she had woke up this morning. It was just yesterday that Yoongi got sick, she started to think if everything was planned. She kept thinking of stupid things that really didn't matter, she couldn't think straight because of the pain she was bearing. She groaned.

She immediately limped to the door and locked it, being her stupid self. Is this the end? She started to think. Is this it? Am I going to die in this bathroom?

She groaned out pain and leaned on the door, making a loud bang. There was a ringing sound echoing in her ear, loud enough to make her eardrums explode. She dropped on the floor, drained. She sobbed with her only energy left instead of shouting for help.

She knew she's dying. But what can she do? Even if they rush to the hospital, she'll die either ways. She decided not to ruin their merry dinner with their rare time together. But a part of her just wanted to scream for help — because the pain was unbearable, it was unstoppable.