Chapter 22: The Weight of Silence
Rain traced crooked lines down the glass windows of the hospital. Each droplet echoed the heaviness in Yunjun's chest. He sat quietly in the hallway outside Yeri's room, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly as if in prayer, though he didn't believe in much anymore.
It had been three days since the surgery.
For three days, machines beeped, nurses rushed in and out, and the sharp smell of antiseptic clung to everything. Three days since Yeri had opened her eyes but hadn't spoken a word to him.
Not once.
Not when he tried to make her laugh with their old jokes. Not when he sat by her side, reading from the dog-eared novel she loved. Not even when he whispered apologies into the night, words full of regret.
She looked at everyone else. She spoke to the nurses. She even nodded when Soojin came in, tears lining her lashes.
But with him? Nothing.
Yunjun wasn't sure what hurt more—her silence or the realization that he might've been too late.
The door creaked open softly behind him, and he looked up to see Sia approaching, her arms folded across her chest, holding a takeaway coffee. She handed it to him wordlessly and took a seat beside him.
"She's still not talking to you?"
He shook his head. "It's like I'm not even there."
Sia sighed. "Yunjun, you have to give her time. She went through hell."
"I know," he murmured, his voice breaking. "And I wasn't there to stop it."
"That wasn't your fault."
"But it feels like it was."
There was a pause. He could hear a child crying down the hall. Someone's shoes softly knocked against the tile.
"Do you think she'll forgive me?" he asked quietly.
Sia looked at him, her expression softening. "Yunjun… she loved you before she even knew it. That kind of love doesn't just disappear. It hides. Protects itself. Waits."
Yunjun swallowed hard. "And what if I don't deserve it?"
She gave a small, sad smile. "None of us do. But sometimes, we get lucky."
Inside the room, Yeri was propped up against her pillows, her hands resting limply on her lap. The bruises had faded to dull purples and yellows, but the ache ran deeper than her skin.
She stared out the window, watching the rain blur the city skyline.
She had once thought pain had a shape—a knife, a scream, a wound. But this? This silence inside her, this sharp emptiness when Yunjun looked at her with eyes that cried for forgiveness—this was worse.
She had dreamed about him every night in that dark, cold place. About his voice. His warmth. His promise that she'd be safe.
But when she'd woken up and seen him at her bedside, all she'd felt was fear.
Not of him.
Of herself.
Because part of her still wanted to run into his arms, and that terrified her.
A gentle knock interrupted her thoughts.
She didn't turn.
But she didn't say no either.
The door opened.
Then closed.
She heard his footsteps—slow and careful.
"Yeri," he said, his voice softer than she'd ever heard it.
She didn't respond.
He moved to the chair beside her bed and sat down. She felt the warmth of his presence, close but not touching.
"I don't know how to fix this," he began. "But I want to. I'll wait forever if I have to."
Still, she stared at the window.
"I should've protected you," he continued. "I should've known Jack was still out there, still watching. I underestimated him. I—"
"You didn't underestimate him," she said, her voice hoarse.
Yunjun flinched.
"You just forgot I mattered," she whispered, turning to face him finally. Her eyes weren't angry. They were tired. Deeply, heartbreakingly tired.
Yunjun's breath caught in his throat.
"That's not true."
"Then why did you keep pushing me away?" Her fingers tightened on the blanket. "Why did you let Soojin hurt me and do nothing? Why did you make me feel like I was just… an employee?"
He dropped his head into his hands. "Because I was scared."
Yeri blinked.
"I was scared that if I admitted how much I cared about you, it would make you a target. And I was right. Jack used you to get to me. He knew exactly where to strike."
"I didn't need protection," she said. "I needed truth."
Their eyes met. There was no hate in hers. Just sorrow.
"I was falling in love with you, Yunjun," he said, his voice trembling. "I still am. Every damn second. And that night—before Jack took you—I was going to tell you. I was going to say the words."
"Then why didn't you?" she whispered.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled piece of paper. He handed it to her.
She unfolded it slowly.
It was a note. One she recognized. One she'd written.
"I found it the day after," he said. "I read it a hundred times. And every time, it hurt worse than the last."
She looked at the familiar handwriting—her own, shaky and desperate.
*"If you ever loved me, come find me. Before it's too late."*
Her fingers trembled.
"I'm here now," he said, his eyes shining. "And I'm not going anywhere."
The silence between them was heavy. But not hopeless.
Yeri folded the paper back, then looked at him. Really looked.
He looked older. More worn. There were lines at the corners of his eyes that hadn't been there before. His voice was steadier now, but it carried weight. Pain. Long nights. Guilt.
She reached for his hand.
He froze, barely breathing.
She placed hers gently on top of his. "You hurt me," she said quietly. "Not just when you weren't there. But when you pretended not to care."
"I know."
"But I believe you now."
Yunjun's lips parted. "You do?"
She nodded slowly. "I don't forgive you yet. But I believe you."
A tear slid down his cheek. "That's more than I deserve."
She gave him a small, tired smile. "Good. Because I plan to make you earn the rest."
**Later that night**, after the hospital had gone quiet and the nurses dimmed the hallway lights, Yunjun stayed by her side.
He didn't touch her. Didn't push.
Just held her hand gently while she drifted into sleep.
Her breathing evened out.
But before she slipped into dreams, she murmured one word, barely loud enough to hear.
"Stay."
Yunjun didn't move.
"I will."
**Meanwhile**, Soojin sat alone in her apartment, a half-empty glass of wine in her hand.
She'd watched the footage. The way Yunjun looked at Yeri now. The tenderness in his voice.
He had changed.
And Yeri… she had survived.
Soojin looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection didn't smile. It just stared back—cold and tired.
She set the glass down.
Whatever came next, she had a feeling her part in it wasn't over yet.
But maybe—for the first time—she wasn't sure she wanted to be the villain anymore.
To be continued.....
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