The faint scent of blooming cherry blossoms drifted through the slightly cracked hospital window. Yuna leaned her head against the cool glass, her gaze fixed on the delicate pink petals fluttering like tiny dancers in the spring breeze. The world outside was bursting with life—children laughing in the distance, birds weaving melodies into the air, couples strolling hand in hand under the canopy of cherry blossoms. Yet here she was, sitting in a sterile room that smelled faintly of antiseptic and hopelessness.
Her fingers absently traced the edge of the windowsill, as if longing to feel the rough bark of the trees she could see but not touch. She felt like those petals—beautiful for a fleeting moment, only to fall and wither soon after. Yuna bit her lip, shaking her head slightly. She hated how morbid her thoughts had become lately, but it was hard to avoid them when every breath came with the ache of knowing there might not be many left.
The soft knock on her door pulled her from her spiraling thoughts. She didn't need to look to know who it was. "Come in, Sohee," Yuna called out, her voice steady, though it carried the weight of practiced calmness.
The door swung open, and in walked Sohee, a whirlwind of color and vitality. Dressed in a crisp white sundress that hugged her figure, her presence lit up the dull room. But what caught Yuna's attention were the shoes—bright, glossy red heels that clicked with authority against the floor as Sohee made her way to the bed.
"What do you think?" Sohee asked, spinning lightly on her toes. "Aren't these to die for?"
Yuna's lips twitched into a smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "They're beautiful," she murmured, her gaze lingering on the shoes. "But then again, you've always had a knack for picking the prettiest things."
Sohee grinned, her expression as carefree as always. She perched on the edge of Yuna's bed, swinging one leg daintily as if to better showcase her new treasure. "You know what? As soon as you're out of here, we're going shopping. I'll find you a pair even better than these. Imagine walking down the street together, turning heads—"
"Maybe," Yuna cut in softly, her voice barely audible. Her eyes shifted back to the window, watching as a single petal broke away from its branch and floated toward the ground.
Sohee frowned, leaning closer. "What's with that tone? Don't 'maybe' me, Yuna. You'll be out of here before you know it. We'll plan a whole day, just us, okay?"
Yuna nodded, but her hands betrayed her, gripping the pale hospital sheets with a quiet desperation. Sohee couldn't know. She couldn't know that Yuna had overheard the doctors murmuring outside her room yesterday. Words like "time" and "palliative care" lingered in her mind like ghosts, haunting her every thought.
The truth was, Yuna wasn't sure if she had enough time left to walk through the streets with Sohee, let alone buy a pair of pretty red shoes. But she couldn't bring herself to say it. How could she, when Sohee's laughter and optimism were the only bright spots in her days now?
"They suit you," Yuna said instead, her voice firmer this time as she forced the corners of her lips to lift. "Red's always been your color."
Sohee beamed, oblivious to the storm swirling inside Yuna's chest. "Of course it is! You should try it sometime. Maybe when you're feeling better, I'll let you borrow these."
Borrow. The word stung. Borrowing implied returning, but Yuna wasn't sure how much she had left to give back. She swallowed hard, pushing the thought down. For now, she'd let Sohee's chatter fill the room, drowning out the ticking clock in her mind.
Outside, the petals continued to fall, one by one, carried away by the wind.
They spoke for a while, the room filled with Sohee's lively chatter that echoed like a balm against the sterile silence of the hospital. Sohee's voice carried stories of her work, her weekend plans, and even her minor annoyances. Yuna listened, smiled, and laughed in all the right places, her responses automatic, like an old record stuck on repeat. She didn't mind the small talk—it was a distraction, a brief reprieve from her swirling thoughts.
But as the clock ticked on, Sohee glanced at her watch and frowned. "I hate to leave you, Yuna," she said, rising from her chair. "I have a deadline to meet. You'll be okay, right?"
Yuna nodded, her smile faint but reassuring. "Of course. Go on. I'll be fine."
"You better be," Sohee said lightly, leaning in for a quick hug. "And don't worry—I'll be back soon, okay? Just call me if you need anything."
"Don't trip in those shoes on your way out," Yuna teased, earning a laugh from Sohee.
With one last wave, Sohee left, her perfume lingering in the room long after the door clicked shut. The moment she was gone, the silence returned, creeping in like a shadow to fill every corner of the space. Yuna sighed deeply, the sound heavy with exhaustion, and sank back into the pillows.
Her gaze drifted to the bedside table, cluttered with untouched fruit baskets, faded get-well cards, and a small stack of books she no longer had the energy to read. Nestled among the chaos was her phone. For a moment, she stared at it, her chest tightening.
Jaewon.
His name alone sent a storm of emotions swirling through her. Yuna picked up the phone, turning it over in her hands as though it held answers to questions she couldn't bring herself to ask. Jaewon, her so-called husband. The man who had promised to be her partner in life, in sickness and in health. Where was he now?
He was nowhere to be found, as always.
Yuna's thumb hovered over his contact name, her thoughts spiraling back to the beginning. Jaewon hadn't always been like this. Once, he was the man every woman dreamed of—handsome, charismatic, a rising star in the entertainment world. She'd fallen for him instantly, swept away by his charm and ambition.
But the fall from grace had been as swift as it was brutal. A scandal had destroyed his career, exposing not only his indiscretions but also a dark secret: Jaewon wasn't the legitimate son of the prestigious Jeong family. The revelation stripped him of his fame, his family name, and his confidence.
She had stayed. Through the humiliation, through the anger, through the storm that followed, Yuna had stayed. Because she loved him—or at least, she had loved the version of him that existed before the world came crashing down. But Jaewon had changed. The man she once adored had turned into a bitter, resentful stranger who saw her not as a partner, but as a convenient target for his frustrations.
She stayed even as he stole from her. Money she had saved painstakingly through long hours and hard work, he took without a second thought, gambling it away in desperate attempts to reclaim some semblance of control over his shattered life. He hadn't even won. He had lost it all, leaving her to shoulder the burden of their debts and his shame.
And yet, despite everything, Yuna couldn't bring herself to leave. She told herself it was because of love, but deep down, she wondered if it was something else. A stubborn loyalty, perhaps, or a fear of being alone.
Now, as she sat in this hospital bed, her body weakening day by day, she couldn't help but question her choices. She was dying. The doctors hadn't said it outright, but she could see it in their eyes, hear it in the way they spoke in hushed tones outside her room. She didn't have much time left, and the one person she wanted to see—the man she had sacrificed so much for—was nowhere to be found.
Her thumb pressed the call button, and the phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Each ring felt like a hammer striking her already fragile heart. It went to voicemail.
"Jaewon," she whispered into the silence. Her voice cracked as she tried to hold back the tears. "Please. Just pick up."
She tried again, and again, but the result was the same. Her hands trembled as she typed out a text:
"Jaewon, it's me. I don't know if you're busy, but… I'd really like to see you. Please, just call me back."
The message joined a long string of unanswered texts. Pleas for him to come see her, to talk to her, to show that he cared even a little. But there was no response. There never was.
Yuna placed the phone on her lap, her chest tightening with a mix of anger, sadness, and resignation. She stared at the ceiling, her mind racing.
He doesn't care.
The thought was a knife to her heart, sharp and unforgiving. But no matter how much she tried to deny it, she couldn't escape the truth. Jaewon didn't care. Not about her, not about their marriage, not about anything except himself.
She let out a shaky breath, her hands clenching the sheets. "What did I ever do to deserve this?" she whispered to the empty room.
The cherry blossoms outside continued to fall, each petal a reminder of time slipping away.
The spring breeze was soft against Yuna's skin as she stood outside the hospital, her thin coat barely enough to shield her from the lingering chill of the season. She pulled it tighter around her frail frame, but the cold seemed to seep through anyway, as if it were reaching for the fragile life she clung to. The world around her seemed so alive—birds chirping, flowers blooming, people laughing in the distance. It was ironic, really, how vibrant everything seemed when her own life felt like it was slipping away.
She stretched out her hand absentmindedly, her pale fingers trembling slightly, and caught a falling petal in her palm. It was soft and delicate, its pale pink hue reminding her of the cherry blossom trees that lined the hospital's courtyard.
A faint smile tugged at her lips as she stared at the petal. "I don't have much time left," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the hum of the city. The words hung in the air like a solemn truth, one she had finally accepted.
Her gaze drifted to the world beyond the hospital gates. Couples strolled hand in hand, children ran after each other with carefree laughter, and the elderly sat on benches, soaking in the warmth of the sun. Life moved on, oblivious to the battles waged within these hospital walls.
Yuna let out a soft sigh, her thoughts a whirlwind of memories and regrets. She thought about the life she had envisioned for herself, the dreams she had nurtured in her youth. Marriage, love, a family—things she had once believed would fill her life with joy. But reality had been cruel.
Her husband, Jaewon, should have been by her side during this, her most vulnerable moment. Instead, she had spent most of her hospital days alone, save for Sohee's occasional visits. Jaewon, who once promised to cherish her in sickness and in health, had disappeared like a shadow, his absence a stark reminder of all that had gone wrong in her life.
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she thought about him. Jaewon Jeong. Once a rising star, a famous actor with a smile that could make hearts flutter. But fame had been fleeting, and scandal had tarnished his name. When the truth about his illegitimacy in the Jeong family came to light, his world crumbled. And somehow, Yuna had become the scapegoat for his failures.
She closed her eyes, the memories of his anger washing over her like a tidal wave. The harsh words, the cruel accusations, the bruises hidden beneath long sleeves. And yet, she had stayed. Not because she was weak, but because she had loved him. Even when he stole her hard-earned money to gamble, even when he lost it all and left her to pick up the pieces.