(Dohyun pov)
I sat on the hospital bed as the tray freezes my legs. Next to me was Jihwa and I was too busy to see him..
The bread in my hand was dry, crumbling apart between my fingers. I forced a bite down anyway, chewing until it turned to paste in my mouth.
"I'm going to do it," I said finally, my voice flat.
Across from me, Jihwa's head snapped up. "Do what?"
"Absorb it," I said, still not looking at him. "The doctor said it's early. They can… make it stop. I'm glad I don't have to keep it."
Jihwa stood up.
The chair scraped loudly as Jihwa shot to his feet. "Dohyun."
I looked up at him. "What?"
"You can't mean that. You can't just kill a baby who hasn't even been born yet!."
"I do." I threw the bread down onto the tray, my hands shaking. "I don't want it."
"You—" His voice broke off before it got too loud. He inhaled sharply, forcing his tone lower. "It's not the baby's fault. It didn't ask to live, but now it does. The baby didn't even do anything, why are you punishing him? Doesn't that child mean anything to you?"
For a second, I just stared at him. Then something inside me snapped.
"Does it mean anything?" My voice cracked as I stood so fast that I could hear the tray sing. . "You think I care what it means? You think I want to wake up every single day feeling it move inside me like some kind of reminder?"
Jihwa flinched but didn't look away.
"You don't understand," I spat, tears blurring my vision. "You don't know what it feels like to be strapped down like an animal while they inject you with things that make your body scream, to have someone tear you apart over, someone to rape you and not let you even....and over until you can't tell if you're breathing or just existing because they let you—"
"Dohyun—"
"NO!" My scream echoed in the room, my hands fisting in my own hospital gown. "You don't know how it feels to be experimented on, abused, degraded until you're not even human anymore! So why would you judge me for wanting to take back just one thing that's mine?! I don't want a child that gives me constant reminders of my suffering?"
The room went quiet except for my ragged breathing and some tears dropping down.
Jihwa's usual sharp, steady gaze faltered. He opened his mouth and shut it like he was swallowing words.
"Say something!" I shouted, my voice breaking into sobs. "Don't just stand there acting like uhh I don't even know!"
His mouth opened, closed. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "I'm not judging you."
"Then why do you keep looking at me like that?" I choked.
He stayed silent for a long moment, then said quietly, "Because I don't want you to do something you'll regret."
"Regret?" I laughed bitterly, wiping my face with shaking hands. "You think I'll regret getting rid of the thing that makes me feel like my body still belongs to him?"
"Because it's yours too," Jihwa said suddenly, stepping closer, his voice trembling. "It's not just his. It's part of you. And if you do this, you'll spend the rest of your life wondering what it could have been if you'd let it stay."
"Shut up!"
Then he smiled but no brighter than stars but darker than black.
My chest clenched so hard I couldn't breathe.
"Stop smiling at me like that," I snapped through my tears, because he was — that faint, practiced smile that used to calm me down.
"I'm not—"
"You are!" I cried, my voice breaking. "You're smiling like everything's okay, like I'm going to be fine, like I'm not breaking into pieces every second I'm awake!"
His fake calmness shattered. His own expression twisted, and for the first time, he looked almost pained.
"Then break," Jihwa said, his voice raw. "Break if you have to. Cry, scream, hate me — I don't care. Just don't kill the one thing you have left that's yours."
I stared at him, my tears running hot and endless, and suddenly I hated him for being right, hated him for standing there like some unmovable wall between me and the one choice I thought I had.
I hated him because part of me wanted to believe him.
I sank to the floor, my legs giving out, clutching my stomach like it was the source of all my pain. "I can't do this," I whispered, almost choking on the words.
Jihwa knelt beside me, carefully, like I was made of glass. His hand hovered before resting gently on my back.
"Yes, you can," he murmured. His voice was low, steady, and almost too gentle. "And I'll stay. As long as it takes. Even if you hate me for it."
"Why are you so brutal?" I said with my head low.
"The child did nothing wrong.." He looked rather pitiful while saying it.
He was right and I didn't have the stamina to fight so I whispered. "I didn't do anything wrong. So why do I get to suffer then?"
Something inside me broke completely then, and I sobbed until my throat hurt, until the sterile hospital air tasted like salt and blood.
And Jihwa just stayed silent this time, letting me fall apart while his hand stayed on my back.
I didn't stop crying because I felt better — I stopped because my body just… gave up. My throat burned, my chest hurt with every breath, and I felt hollow, like someone had wrung me out and left me to dry.
I barely noticed when Jihwa shifted, when his arms carefully let me go and I was lowered onto the bed. The absence of his warmth made me feel small and fragile.
The room was too quiet. The kind of quiet that traps you with your own thoughts — and mine were cruel.
You're whore.
You're a burden.
You should've never—
The mattress dipped beside me. I kept my eyes shut, pretending to be asleep, because I couldn't bear to see the look on his face.
"Why do you always do this to yourself?" His voice cracked, low and rough.
I wanted to tell him I didn't know. Or maybe I did know, and I just didn't want to say it out loud — that it was easier to break myself than wait for someone else to do it. But what was the reason behind it.
Then his fingers brushed over my stomach. The touch was so gentle it hurt.
"I don't know if you can hear me," he whispered. "But if you stay… if you fight… I'll make sure you're not just a reminder of what happened. I'll make sure he doesn't hate you for being here."
The words twisted inside me, sharp and deep. I wanted to tell him to stop saying things like that — because what if he couldn't keep that promise? What if I stayed and ruined everything anyway? The word promise felt like a curse.
"This isn't fair," his voice broke again. "Not to him. Not to you. Not to any of us."
I felt his hand find mine — warm, solid. I hated that I needed it. I hated that some part of me clung to it like it was the only thing keeping me from drifting away.
I must've fallen asleep at some point, because when I woke, it was too bright. My eyes ached, my body was heavy, like I'd been run over and then stitched back together wrong.
The warmth around my hand was still there.
I turned my head. Jihwa was still sitting there, shoulders slightly slumped, fingers still wrapped loosely around mine. His other hand hovered protectively near my stomach, even in sleep.
Something inside me cracked again.
"You should've let go," I said, my voice raw and broken.
His eyes opened, slow, tired. But he didn't let go.
"I couldn't," he said simply.
I wanted to scream. To push him away. To tell him to stop making this harder — because if he kept looking at me like that, I might start hoping, and hope was dangerous.
"You're making this harder than it already is," I muttered.
"Good." His voice was steady, and I hated him for it. "Because if it was easy, you'd regret it later."
"You don't get to tell me what I'll regret," I whispered, bitterness lacing my throat.
"I know," he said softly, finally releasing my hand — but only so he could press it gently over my stomach.
I stared at the ceiling, my chest tight, wishing I could disappear but when I tried it didn't worke.
"But someone has to remind you that you still have a choice."
My eyes burned, but I refused to cry again. I buried my face in the pillow, my voice muffled.
"Leave me alone."
He didn't move. "I will," he whispered. "When I know you're okay."
I bit down hard on my lip until I tasted blood, gripping the sheets until my hands ached.
I didn't cry this time.
I just lay there, shaking, wishing he'd go — and wishing he'd never let go.
"Why are you so worked up about keeping the baby?"
He stayed silent and stared at my head that was buried into the pillow.
"It's not his fault for his existence. You may hate them at first but later you'll come to like the kid."
I moved my face towards him. He looked a bit upset and something darker seemed to be hidden there. I just knew there was more to what he meant but I'll just let it go for now.
"Dohyun…." He said low and steady. "Trust me for this once."
"I-I don't know."