I left.
Or at least, I was supposed to.
My feet had carried me outside the hospital room, my hands curled into fists, my heart beating like it was trying to escape my chest.
But I didn't walk away.
I couldn't.
Instead, I stood there, leaning against the wall, my head tilted slightly toward the door. Listening.
Her voice broke through the silence first.
Crying.
It was quiet at first, like she was trying to hold it in, but then—
"Why did he do it?" she whispered, voice raw, shaking. "Why did he say that?"
I clenched my jaw, feeling my own eyes sting.
Her father sighed. "Because he still thinks it matters. Because he still loves you."
"I hate hearing that," she choked out. "I hate that he said it like it changes anything."
I pressed my forehead against the door, closing my eyes.
Then, her voice wavered again.
"I wanted to hear him out."
That was it. That was the moment my knees almost gave out beneath me.
She wanted to hear me out.
Her father tsked. "Ava, you don't owe him that."
She let out a laugh. But it wasn't real. It was a broken, strangled thing—half a sob, half a desperate attempt to push down everything she was feeling.
"Why do I still care, Dad?" she whispered, voice shaking. "It's been years. Why do I still love him?!"
I almost pushed the door open right then.
Almost.
But then—
"You'll do what he did to you with someone else," her father said. "And he won't be able to stop it either."
A heavy silence.
Then, quietly—
"Minho likes you," he continued. "You know that, don't you?"
Minho.
I stiffened.
"He loves you," her father added. "He's proved it. If you're not dating him yet, then at least—at least be a little concerned about his feelings."
Another silence.
Then, softer this time, she whispered—
"You're right, Dad. I should."
A sharp pain shot through my chest.
I knew I didn't deserve her. Knew I had no right to be here.
But that didn't make it hurt any less.
"It's just so hard to accept it," she continued. "That the person I love—loves me. But I don't want to trust it. I feel pathetic."
Her father pulled her into a hug. I could hear the rustle of fabric, the muffled sound of her crying against his chest.
"You're not pathetic," he murmured. "You're an adult now, honey. You choose the right one. Liam or Minho—it's all on you."
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
"I won't say a word about who you choose," he added, his voice gentle. "But you should know… Daddy's on your side. No matter what."
And then—
A sob. A real one.
"Love you, Dad," she whispered.
"I love you too, baby."
I exhaled shakily, stepping away from the door, my chest aching.
I had already lost her once.
And now—
I was losing her again.