Chapter 10 : When the World Stops Turning
Yeri woke up feeling pain.
It wasn't sharp; it was different. It was a deep, throbbing ache that pulsed beneath her skin as if it had taken up residence there. She opened her eyes slowly. Her vision was blurry, and bright lights hurt her eyes. Her lips felt dry, and her throat burned.
She tried to move.
Her body didn't cooperate.
Then she heard the beeping—the steady rhythm of machines monitoring a life she barely felt connected to. There was also warmth, not from a blanket but from a hand holding hers like a lifeline.
A voice cut through the haze. It was soft and cracked.
"Yeri?"
She turned her head slowly. It took all the strength she had.
And there he was.
Yunjun.
He slouched in a chair that seemed to have become his second home. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair unkempt, and dark circles weighed down his eyes.
But the way he looked at her made it feel like she was the only thing keeping him alive.
"You're awake," he whispered, his breath catching.
She blinked once. That was all she could do.
He leaned forward, brushing her hair away from her forehead. His touch was gentle and careful, as if she might break.
"You're safe now," he said, his voice rough.
Tears filled her eyes without warning. Her chest ached in so many ways. She remembered hands, a dark room, the sting of a belt, blood, and screams.
She remembered thinking of him.
Thinking, *Please. Please come find me.*
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
"I'm sorry," Yunjun suddenly said, his voice trembling. "God, I'm so sorry. I should've been there. I should've protected you."
She wanted to speak, to tell him *it's not your fault*, but her throat wouldn't let her.
Still, her fingers moved a little, squeezing his hand.
And that was enough.
**The days blurred.**
Nurses came and went. Machines beeped. Painkillers dulled her senses.
But Yunjun stayed.
He read to her. At first, he stumbled over words and used silly voices for the characters in her favorite fairy tales. She smiled faintly at his effort, and he smiled back as if it was a miracle.
Sometimes he just talked. He shared stories about his day, about Soojin arguing with the doctors for her food from home, and about the business he no longer cared about. His voice filled the silence and pushed back the fear.
Every night, he slept in that same chair, his hand always in hers.
Sometimes, she'd wake up in the middle of the night to find him whispering apologies when he thought she couldn't hear.
"I shouldn't have let you walk out that night. I should've told you how I felt sooner."
She kept her eyes closed, listening. She wasn't ready to face the weight of his guilt.
Not yet.
**One afternoon**, a week later, Yeri managed to sit up by herself. Her body protested loudly, but she was determined.
Yunjun walked in with a bouquet of sunflowers and nearly dropped them when he saw her sitting.
"You're sitting," he said, eyes wide.
"I'm trying," she whispered, her voice raspy.
He rushed to her side. "You shouldn't push yourself."
"I need to," she replied, managing a weak smile. "I'm tired of feeling helpless."
His expression changed—part admiration, part heartbreak.
"You were never helpless," he said quietly. "Not even for a second."
Their eyes met, and for the first time since that night, neither of them looked away.
**Later that evening**, as the sky turned a soft purple, Yunjun sat by her bedside, his thumb gently tracing over her bandaged wrist.
"I need to tell you something," he said.
Yeri looked at him, curious.
He took a breath. "That night... I was going to tell you everything. About how I felt. About what you mean to me. But before I could—" He swallowed hard. "He took you."
Yeri's eyes darkened. Jack.
"I keep thinking," he continued, "if I had said it sooner... maybe things would've been different."
"You can't blame yourself for what he did," she said softly.
"But I do," Yunjun whispered. "Because I should've protected you. From him. From Soojin. From... everything."
"You came for me," she said. "That's what matters."
He looked up, his eyes glistening. "I thought I lost you."
"I thought I'd never see you again," she whispered.
And just like that, the air between them shifted—quietly, beautifully.
He reached for her hand.
This time, she didn't flinch.
**That night**, Soojin arrived.
She stood awkwardly in the doorway, holding a small orchid plant in a white pot.
Yeri blinked in surprise.
"I didn't come to fight," Soojin said quickly. "I just... wanted to see you."
Yunjun stood up, clearly cautious. "Soojin—"
"I'm not here to hurt her," she said, looking at Yeri. "Not anymore."
Yeri studied her. The usually sharp and proud girl looked... small. Tired.
"I brought this," Soojin added, placing the orchid on the windowsill. "It's supposed to symbolize strength. I thought it was fitting."
Yeri didn't respond.
Soojin fidgeted with her bracelet. "I was terrible to you. I let jealousy consume me. I thought you were taking him away from me."
"I wasn't," Yeri said quietly.
"I know that now," Soojin admitted, her voice trembling. "I know an apology won't fix things. But... I'm sorry. Truly."
Yeri looked at the orchid and then back at her.
"I forgive you," she said, surprising even herself.
Soojin's eyes widened. "You do?"
"I don't have room for more pain," Yeri stated simply. "And I think... you're trying."
Soojin nodded, her eyes glassy. "I am."
After that, they sat in silence, and it wasn't tense.
It felt healing.
**But healing wasn't simple.**
Yeri still had nightmares.
Sometimes she woke up gasping, drenched in sweat, gripping the blanket like it was her lifeline. Yunjun was always there—his hands warm, his voice gentle, never asking questions, just waiting for her to return to reality.
Once, she broke down completely.
"I was so scared," she sobbed into his chest. "I thought I was going to die, and the worst part was... I thought you wouldn't even know."
He held her tighter. "I knew. I felt it. I just didn't get there fast enough."
"You did," she whispered.
"I'll never let you feel that fear again," he promised, kissing her temple.
And this time, she believed him.
**In another part of the city**, Jack stared at a bulletin board, where photos and strings connected his targets and plans.
"She's alive," one of his men reported, hesitating.
Jack didn't flinch. "She was a message."
"Message for who?"
Jack lit a cigarette. "Yunjun."
He exhaled the smoke slowly. "And he heard me loud and clear."
**Back in the hospital**, Yeri took her first steps without help.
One shaky foot in front of the other.
Yunjun stood nearby, arms outstretched, ready to catch her.
She made it five steps before collapsing into him, laughing despite the pain.
"You're incredible," he said, awestruck.
She leaned against him, sweaty and breathless. "I know."
He laughed, resting his forehead against hers.
In that moment, everything else—Jack, pain, fear—faded away.
There was only this.
Only them.
To be continued....
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