Yoonah sniffled again, glaring at the book as if it had personally wronged her. "If this doesn't have a happy ending," she muttered, her voice full of determination, "I'm personally gonna sue the author. How dare they play with my emotions like this?"
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■■■■■■ gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white as he mustered the courage to make the call. His breath was shaky, uneven, but he knew he had no other choice. He picked up his phone, his fingers trembling as they hovered over her dad's number. For a moment, he froze, fear gripping him like a vice. How was he supposed to tell them? How was he supposed to put into words the nightmare that had unfolded in mere minutes?
He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply in an attempt to steady himself. "Everything's going to be okay," he whispered under his breath, though he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or the universe.
Finally, he pressed the call button, the phone ringing on speaker as he drove through the empty streets, the hospital's location set on his GPS.
"Hello? Wonwoo, my boy! What's up?" her dad's warm voice greeted him on the other end, the usual cheer in his tone making ■■■■■■'s chest tighten further. "Are you guys on the way? We're waiting for you for dinner!"
■■■■■■ opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. His throat was dry, and the lump forming there made it nearly impossible to breathe, let alone talk.
"■■■■■■? Are you there? What's wrong? Why aren't you speaking? Can you hear me?" Concern had already replaced the cheerfulness in her dad's voice.
■■■■■■■ swallowed hard, his voice finally breaking through the heavy silence. "Sir…" His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, desperate to stay composed. "You… you need to come to Bumin Hospital. Please… please hurry."
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"OH MY GOD! WE HAVE A NAME!!?" Yoonah shouted, nearly dropping the book in her excitement. She stared at the page, wide-eyed, as if she had just uncovered the most groundbreaking twist in literary history.
"It only took, what, half the book?!" she exclaimed, flipping back a few pages to double-check. "I was starting to think the author was trying to make some artsy statement about anonymity or something."
She leaned back in her chair, grinning. "Okay, Wonwoo, I see you. Finally, a name to scream at when things go wrong. Let's go!"
Turning the page with renewed enthusiasm, she muttered, "Now, if the author could just stop playing with my emotions for five seconds, that'd be great."
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"Why, what happened?" her father asked, his voice tinged with worry but still holding the faint hope that it might not be as serious as Wonwoo's tone suggested.
"■■■■■■■ got shot," ■■■■■■ said, his voice breaking as he forced the words out.
"...■■■■■■," her father's tone shifted, almost scolding. "Don't joke around, man. But seriously, when are the two of you going to come back? Your mother's been setting the table."
Wonwoo squeezed the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. He wanted to keep it together, but the weight of the situation was too much to bear. He let his tears fall freely now, streaming down his face as he choked out the words.
"Sir...I wish I was joking right now. I really do," he said, his voice trembling. "I'm following the ambulance right now."
The line went dead silent. Wonwoo could hear her father's shaky breath on the other end, the realization sinking in.
"...."
Then, a sound he would never forget—her father breaking down into heart-wrenching sobs.
"We're on our way," her father finally managed to say, his voice thick with emotion. The call ended abruptly.
■■■■■■■ let the phone slip from his trembling hands, the device falling into the empty passenger seat. He gripped the steering wheel again, his fingers digging into the leather as if holding on would somehow anchor him in this storm of panic and despair.
When he arrived at the hospital, the bright lights of the emergency entrance felt like a slap to the face, jolting him into a harsh reality he wasn't ready for. Paramedics and medical staff swarmed around the ambulance as it came to a halt. ■■■■■■■ parked haphazardly, his body moving on autopilot as he stumbled out of the car.
He watched helplessly as they wheeled her out of the ambulance, her small, fragile body surrounded by medical professionals barking orders. The blood-soaked bandages covering her chest were a cruel reminder of how dire the situation was.
"Sir, please step back," one of the paramedics said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder to stop him from getting too close.
"Is... is she going to be okay?" ■■■■■■'s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but the paramedic didn't answer. Instead, they rushed her through the hospital's automatic doors, leaving him frozen in place.
He forced himself to follow them inside, his legs feeling like lead. The antiseptic smell of the hospital hit him like a wave, making his stomach churn. As they wheeled her into the operating room, he tried to keep up, but a nurse stopped him.
"You can't go in there, sir," she said gently but firmly.
"I need to be with her," he protested, his voice breaking. "Please, I—"
"She's in good hands," the nurse assured him, though her eyes were filled with sympathy. "The doctors are doing everything they can. Please, take a seat and wait. Someone will update you as soon as possible."
He nodded reluctantly, though his heart screamed to be by her side. As the double doors of the operating room closed behind her, the reality of the situation hit him like a freight train.
■■■■■■ sank into one of the hard plastic chairs outside the operating theatre. His hands, still stained with her dried blood, rested limply in his lap. He stared at them, the crimson smudges on his skin a cruel reminder of how powerless he had been to stop this from happening.
The hospital hallway was eerily quiet, the only sounds being the occasional beeping of distant monitors and the murmured conversations of medical staff. Every second felt like an eternity.
He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands as his tears fell freely. His mind was a chaotic mess of fear, regret, and helplessness. He kept replaying the moment in the park over and over, wondering what he could have done differently, how he could have protected her better.
"Please, let her be okay," he whispered to no one in particular, his voice raw with emotion. "She has to be okay. She's my everything..."
But deep down, he was terrified that his prayers wouldn't be enough.
Minutes dragged on like hours as ■■■■■■ sat in the sterile hospital hallway, every tick of the clock on the wall echoing in his mind. The sound was sharp and incessant, marking time that felt meaningless without her. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his trembling hands clasped together as if in prayer. His thoughts were a chaotic whirl, a mix of desperate hope and suffocating fear.
When the elevator doors opened with a soft ding, her parents rushed out, their faces ashen with worry and fear. Her mother's hand gripped her husband's arm tightly, her steps hurried and uneven. Her father's usual composed demeanor was replaced with visible panic, his eyes darting around until they landed on ■■■■■■.
He stood to meet them, but no words came. How could he find the right words to explain what had happened? Her father didn't ask. Instead, he placed a heavy hand on ■■■■■■'s shoulder, as if trying to steady him—or perhaps himself.
They sat down together, but the silence between them was deafening. Her mother dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, her soft sniffles the only sound in the otherwise still hallway. Her father sat rigid, his hands gripping his knees as if trying to anchor himself. ■■■■■ couldn't bring himself to look at them for too long. Guilt clawed at his chest, his mind haunted by the memory of her blood on his hands.
Seconds stretched into minutes, each one heavier than the last. Every time a nurse or doctor walked by, their eyes would dart up, searching for answers, for hope. But no one stopped to speak to them, and the wait continued, excruciating and endless.
After what felt like an eternity but was only ten minutes, the double doors to the operation theatre finally swung open. The sound made all three of them jump to their feet simultaneously, their hearts pounding as a doctor stepped out. He wore scrubs stained with blood—her blood—and his face was drawn and grave.
"Doctor," her father spoke first, his voice trembling as he took a step forward. "How is she? Is she alright?"
The doctor sighed deeply, pulling off his surgical mask to reveal an expression that made ■■■■■■'s heart sink further. He looked at them, his eyes heavy with sorrow.
"I'm sorry, Mr. ■■■■■," he began, his tone gentle but devastatingly final. "We did everything we could, but… we couldn't save her."