The hospital walls were too white, too clean. They didn't match the chaos spiraling inside Choen.
She stood outside the glass panel, watching doctors move like ghosts around Choel's bed. Machines beeped steadily. Too steadily.
As if his soul was somewhere between leaving and staying.
Her knuckles were white from gripping the edge of her sleeves.
She hadn't changed out of her fan sign outfit. The fabric still smelled like laughter, like perfume tossed in the air by happy fans. But the warmth was gone now. Swallowed whole by the chill.
Her phone buzzed again. And again.
She didn't want to look. But she did.
#BlameChoen was trending.
"Every time she shows up, disaster follows."
"She's just a rookie. Why is she even on tour?"
"Publicity stunt?"
The words blurred.
Then another headline hit the screen like a punch to the heart:
"Choel's Collapse: The Girl Behind the Silence."
Her hands trembled.
She didn't ask for this. She never asked to be part of anyone's legacy. All she ever wanted was to stand beside him — even quietly. Even in shadows.
She pressed her forehead to the glass.
"Please…" she whispered. "Wake up. Please. I can't carry this without you."
Inside the room, Choel was frozen in time.
In his mind, memories scattered like pieces of shattered glass — of oceans, spiderwebs, Choen's laugh, the charm they once held between them, a battlefield, a crown.
His fingers twitched.
Sunwoo approached her quietly. "You should rest."
Choen didn't move. "I can't. What if he wakes up and I'm not there?"
Sunwoo didn't argue. He placed a hand on her shoulder — the only thing grounding her to the moment.