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The weeks after my birthday blurred together faster than I expected.
Chemo every Wednesday.
Blood tests whenever my oncologist decided I needed another one.
Medication.
More medication.
Then medication to deal with the side effects from the first medication.
Somewhere along the way...
The hospital stopped feeling unfamiliar.
I learned which parking spaces were usually empty.
The receptionist started greeting me by name before I even reached the desk.
Emma always asked how Nala was doing before asking how I was.
She claimed it helped distract people.
Honestly...
I think she was right.
Life slowly settled into a rhythm.
Some days were good enough that I almost forgot why I was tired all the time.
Other days...
Just walking downstairs for breakfast felt like a workout.
But...
They never let me do it alone.
Minho still came to every appointment.
Chris still packed a lunch every Wednesday without asking.
Changbin somehow convinced himself protein shakes solved every problem known to humanity.
Felix decided Nala was now his emotional support kitten.
She disagreed.
She still slept on my pillow every night.
Seungmin continued insisting he wasn't attached to her.
He'd also accidentally bought her three different toys.
Nobody believed they were accidents.
October arrived before I really noticed September had ended.
Chris turned twenty-four.
We celebrated with homemade lasagna, two different desserts because no one could decide, and a movie that nobody actually watched because we spent the entire time talking over it.
It was...
Normal.
Wonderfully normal.
Looking back...
I think that's what I remember most.
Not the hospitals.
Not the appointments.
Just...
Everything in between them.
The side effects became easier to predict.
The nausea usually showed up the day after treatment.
The exhaustion stuck around for another two or three days.
Food still wasn't my favorite thing in the world.
But I was eating enough.
At least...
Enough that Chris stopped giving me that look every time I finished dinner.
I even gained back a little of the weight I'd lost.
Everyone celebrated like I'd won the lottery.
It made me laugh.
Because honestly...
It kind of felt like I had.
The pain, though...
That never really settled into a pattern.
Sometimes I'd go three days without feeling it.
Sometimes it'd show up twice before lunch.
Always the same place.
Just beneath my ribs.
Sharp enough to make me stop what I was doing for a second.
Never quite bad enough that I couldn't keep going afterward.
At first...
I blamed the chemo.
Then...
I blamed sleeping funny.
Then carrying groceries.
Then stress.
Eventually...
I stopped trying to explain it.
Every time it happened, I'd tell myself the same thing.
Probably nothing.
And every time...
It disappeared before anyone noticed.
Or...
At least...
Before I thought anyone noticed.
The problem was...
It wasn't disappearing as often anymore.
The first few times...
Nobody noticed.
Or...
At least, I didn't think they did.
I'd stop walking for a second.
Take a slow breath.
Wait for it to pass.
Then keep going.
It became almost automatic.
Like tying my shoes.
Or remembering where the mugs were.
The pain would come.
I'd pause.
Then I'd move on.
Simple.
Until it wasn't.
It happened on a Thursday.
The day after chemo.
Those were usually my better mornings.
Not great.
Just...
Manageable.
The kitchen already smelled like coffee by the time I wandered downstairs.
Chris stood at the stove making scrambled eggs.
Changbin was eating cereal directly out of the box because apparently bowls were optional now.
"They're dirty."
Chris didn't even turn around.
"The bowls are clean."
"...Oh."
Changbin looked down into the cupboard.
"...They are."
"They've been clean since yesterday."
"I knew that."
"I'm sure you did."
I smiled to myself as I reached for a mug.
The kettle had only just started boiling when it happened.
Sharp.
Fast.
Like somebody had shoved the tip of a knife beneath my ribs before pulling it away again.
"...Ow-"
The sound escaped before I could stop it.
My hand shot to my side on instinct.
I leaned forward against the kitchen counter.
Not because I was going to fall.
Just because...
Standing suddenly felt harder.
It only lasted a few seconds.
Five.
Maybe six.
Then...
Just as quickly...
It eased.
I let out a slow breath.
"...You alright?"
I looked up.
Chris had turned away from the stove.
The spatula was still in his hand.
Changbin had stopped eating.
"...Yeah."
I straightened a little too quickly.
"It just..."
I forced a small smile.
"...Caught me off guard."
Chris studied me for another second.
"Chemo?"
"Mhm."
The answer came a little too fast.
He noticed.
I knew he noticed.
But after another moment...
He nodded once.
"...Sit down."
"You don't have to—"
"That wasn't a suggestion."
I laughed quietly.
"...Yes, Chris."
"There he is."
"What?"
"The guy who never listens when I tell him to sit down."
"I listen. I just don't always cooperate."
He turned back toward the stove.
"I was making sure."
I pulled out one of the kitchen chairs and sat down.
The ache had already faded.
Just like always.
"See?"
"Probably nothing."
Nala trotted into the kitchen a second later, meowing loudly enough to announce her arrival to the entire house.
She immediately jumped onto the empty chair beside me before trying to climb into my lap.
I would say she was saying "morning" by headbutting my hand.
I smiled despite myself.
"Good morning to you too."
Changbin reached over to scratch behind her ears.
"I think she likes breakfast time."
"I think she likes any time."
"Fair point."
Within another minute...
The conversation had already moved on.
Felix wandered downstairs half asleep.
Hyunjin followed.
Someone complained about running out of cereal.
Chris threatened to make everyone eat oatmeal instead.
Life...
Kept moving.
The moment passed so naturally that I almost convinced myself it hadn't happened at all.
Almost.
It happened again that afternoon.
This time while I was carrying laundry upstairs.
I stopped halfway up.
Closed my eyes.
Waited.
The basket suddenly felt twice as heavy.
"...Seriously?"
I muttered under my breath.
The pain lingered longer than usual.
Not unbearable.
Just...
Persistent.
By the time I reached the top of the stairs...
It had faded again.
I stood outside my bedroom for a second.
Thinking.
It was becoming more frequent.
Longer.
A little sharper.
I knew what my oncologist had said.
Tell us if anything changes.
I also knew what I was about to tell myself.
Probably chemo.
I sighed quietly before pushing the bedroom door open.
That answer...
Was starting to feel less convincing every day.
Saturday mornings usually meant one thing.
Groceries.
Not because we enjoyed waking up early.
Chris had simply decided that Saturday mornings were the least chaotic time to go.
Nobody argued anymore.
Mostly because he'd been right every single week.
"...Who's coming?" Chris asked as he grabbed his keys from the hook by the front door.
"I'll stay," Seungmin replied.
"I promised Felix I'd help reorganize the pantry."
Felix looked offended.
"...You promised to stop calling it 'organized chaos.'"
"Because it is."
"It has a system."
"It has seventeen systems."
"They work together."
"They absolutely don't."
I laughed as I slipped my shoes on.
"I'm coming."
Minho looked up from tying one of his sneakers.
"So am I."
"Good."
Chris nodded.
"I need someone to stop him."
He pointed directly at me.
"...From buying more books."
"...We're going to the supermarket."
"You'll find one."
"I probably will."
"I know."
The supermarket was surprisingly quiet.
Most people were still half asleep.
Or...
Smarter than us.
Chris pushed the cart while reading a shopping list he'd somehow organized by aisle.
"...How do you even do that?"
He looked up.
"...Planning."
"Sounds fake."
"It isn't."
Minho laughed beside me.
"I've seen him make spreadsheets."
"I don't want to hear about the spreadsheets."
"You should."
"They're terrifying."
For a while...
Everything felt normal.
Really normal.
Felix had somehow convinced Chris to buy cereal that absolutely wasn't on the list.
Minho and I argued over whether we actually needed more instant noodles.
We didn't.
We still bought them.
At one point...
I wandered a little farther down one of the aisles than everyone else.
Not because I'd gotten distracted.
Just...
Because I wanted to look for tea.
The pain hit before I even reached the shelf.
It wasn't sudden this time.
It built.
Slowly.
A dull ache that tightened little by little beneath my ribs.
I stopped walking.
Just for a second.
I rested one hand against the shopping cart beside me.
Breathe.
Wait.
It'll pass.
It always passes.
A few seconds went by.
Then a few more.
Still there.
"...Sung?"
I looked up.
Minho had appeared at the other end of the aisle.
"...You disappeared."
I smiled.
"...Sorry."
"I found tea."
He walked over, holding two different boxes.
"...Which one?"
I looked at them.
Realized I'd forgotten the question.
"...Uh..."
He tilted his head slightly.
"...You okay?"
The pain eased just enough for me to stand up properly again.
"...Yeah."
"I was just thinking."
He looked at me for another second.
Not convinced.
"...Thinking?"
"Mhm."
"About tea."
He looked down at the two boxes in his hands.
Then back at me.
"...That's a long time to think about tea."
I laughed quietly.
"...It's an important decision."
His eyebrows lifted.
"...Sure."
He didn't argue.
He just handed me one of the boxes.
"I like this one."
"...Me too."
"Good."
Then, just as casually as he'd walked over...
He slipped his free hand into mine.
Not dramatically.
Not because anyone was watching.
Just...
Because he always did.
We walked back toward the others together.
The rest of the shopping trip passed without anything unusual happening.
At least...
Not outwardly.
Inside...
I couldn't stop thinking about that pain.
It had lasted longer.
Long enough that I'd actually started counting.
Almost thirty seconds.
That had never happened before.
By the time we finished unloading the groceries back at the villa...
I'd almost convinced myself I was imagining it.
Almost.
That evening...
Everyone settled into the living room after dinner.
Felix had somehow found another terrible reality show to watch.
Changbin insisted it wasn't terrible.
"It has a ninety-three percent audience score."
"It also has a twenty-one percent critic score," Seungmin replied.
"They're wrong."
"They usually aren't."
Hyunjin, curled up on the far end of the couch, lifted his head just enough to glance at the screen.
"If this gets any worse, I'm blaming Felix."
Felix gasped.
"Excuse you, this is art."
"It's a crime."
"It's compelling television."
"It's emotional manipulation."
"That's what makes it compelling."
I smiled to myself as I leaned back against the couch.
Nala climbed into my lap almost immediately before curling into a tiny ball.
She started purring.
I absentmindedly scratched behind her ears.
The pain didn't come back.
Not once.
By bedtime...
I'd almost forgotten about it.
Almost.
As I climbed into bed that night...
Minho looked over at me.
"...Hey."
"Hm?"
"You sure you're okay?"
I looked at him.
"...Yeah."
"You seemed..."
He searched for the word.
"...A little quieter today."
I smiled.
"...Just tired."
He studied my face for another moment.
Then nodded.
"...Okay."
He reached over, brushing a loose strand of hair away from my forehead.
"...Goodnight."
"Night."
He rolled over a few minutes later.
His breathing eventually settled into the slow rhythm of sleep.
Mine didn't.
I lay awake for a little longer than usual.
Staring at the ceiling.
Thinking.
Not about the grocery store.
Not about tea.
Not even about the pain itself.
Just...
About how easily I'd lied.
And how easily he'd pretended to believe me.
That thought stayed with me long after I'd finally fallen asleep.
Sunday mornings were slower.
Nobody set alarms unless they absolutely had to.
Chris made coffee.
Changbin claimed Sundays were "recovery days."
Felix insisted that meant staying in pajamas until lunchtime.
Nobody argued.
Mostly because...
We were all still wearing pajamas too.
I wandered downstairs a little after nine.
Nala followed close behind, weaving between my feet so enthusiastically that I nearly tripped over her before I'd even reached the kitchen.
"...Good morning to you too."
She answered by rubbing against my leg again.
Chris looked over from the coffee machine.
"...Morning."
"Morning."
He slid a mug across the counter toward me before I even asked.
"Tea."
I smiled.
"...You remembered."
"You've been drinking it every morning for a month."
"...Fair point."
For a while...
Everything felt wonderfully ordinary.
Felix and Hyunjin were curled up together on the couch, trying to decide what movie to watch.
Changbin was attempting to make pancakes.
Chris was pretending not to notice Changbin putting far too much chocolate into the batter.
Jeongin and Élise talking together about something.
It seemed private, so I let them be.
I leaned against the kitchen island.
Watching them.
Listening.
Smiling.
Then...
The pain came back.
There wasn't any warning.
No sharp movement.
No lifting something heavy.
I was just...
Standing there.
One hand wrapped around a warm mug.
The next...
My fingers tightened around it automatically.
The ache spread beneath my ribs.
Deeper than yesterday.
I stayed completely still.
Don't move.
Just breathe.
It'll stop.
It always stops.
One breath.
Two.
Three.
It lingered.
Longer.
I kept my eyes on the countertop.
Nobody's looking.
You're okay.
Another breath.
Eventually...
It eased.
Not completely.
Just enough.
"...You alright?"
I looked up.
Minho.
He was standing on the other side of the island.
Watching me.
"...Yeah."
He didn't answer.
He just looked at me for another second.
"...You froze."
I forced a small smile.
"I zoned out."
He didn't smile back.
"...Okay."
I hated how guilty that made me feel.
The rest of the morning passed without much happening.
The movie Felix and Hyunjin eventually settled on somehow turned out to be even worse than expected.
Hyunjin fell asleep halfway through, leaning on Felix's shoulder.
Seungmin claimed he'd rather reorganize the bookshelf than finish watching it.
Chris agreed.
At one point...
I found myself sitting on the back deck with Nala asleep across my legs.
The autumn air had started feeling cooler.
The leaves had only just begun changing color.
Orange.
Yellow.
A little red.
I rested my head against the back of the chair.
Closed my eyes.
Listened to the wind.
The pain didn't come.
For nearly two hours.
See?
I smiled to myself.
Probably chemo.
It returned after lunch.
I wasn't doing anything.
Just helping Chris dry the dishes.
One plate.
Another.
Then...
My hand stopped halfway to the cupboard.
The ache returned.
Sharper.
Persistent.
I quietly set the plate down before anyone noticed my grip loosening.
Wait.
Just wait.
It'll pass.
"You good?"
Chris's voice sounded farther away than it should have.
"You've been holding that plate for like thirty seconds."
I blinked.
Had I?
"Sorry. Yeah, I'm fine."
I slid the plate onto the shelf.
"My brain just..."
I laughed quietly.
"...Stopped working."
Chris watched me carefully.
"...You sure?"
I smiled.
"I'm sure."
He didn't look convinced.
But...
Just like Minho yesterday...
He let it go.
That evening...
Minho and I were getting ready for bed when he spoke again.
Not looking at me.
Just folding one of his hoodies.
"...Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"...Has the pain been happening more?"
My hands stopped for half a second.
Only half.
"...A little."
It wasn't exactly a lie.
Just...
Not the whole truth.
He nodded slowly.
"...Okay."
I looked over.
"...That's all?"
"What else do you want me to say?"
I didn't know.
"...Nothing."
He folded the hoodie one more time before placing it neatly on the shelf.
"If it gets worse..."
He looked at me.
"...Promise you'll tell me."
I smiled.
"...I promise."
He smiled back.
"...Good."
The conversation ended there.
Simple.
Quiet.
Normal.
But as we climbed into bed...
I couldn't stop thinking about that promise.
Because for the first time...
I wasn't entirely sure I'd be able to keep it.
Monday mornings usually felt the same lately.
A little slower.
A little quieter.
Just enough that I noticed how much more energy everyone else seemed to have.
I wandered downstairs just after eight.
Seungmin was already halfway through making breakfast.
He looked up the moment I walked into the kitchen.
"...Morning."
"Morning."
He glanced at me for a second longer than usual.
"...Sleep okay?"
I smiled.
"Yeah."
It wasn't entirely a lie.
I'd slept.
Just...
Not particularly well.
He nodded once.
"Good."
That was all.
No follow-up questions.
No checking if I was secretly lying.
Just...
Good.
I appreciated that.
More than I probably knew how to explain.
The rest of the morning drifted by quietly.
Chris left for work.
Jeongin disappeared to class.
Changbin announced he was "going to become one with the gym."
Nobody knew what that meant.
Felix claimed it was probably a terrible idea.
Hyunjin laughed and kissed his cheek before telling him he was dramatic.
Nala spent nearly twenty minutes trying to fit inside one of the kitchen drawers.
She couldn't.
She refused to accept that.
I laughed harder than I probably should have.
"...She's stubborn," Minho said.
"I wonder where she got that from."
He looked directly at me.
"...Rude."
"I'm just making observations."
"I've heard that before."
"So have I."
For a little while...
Everything felt...
Easy.
Normal.
The pain didn't come once.
Not all morning.
Not through lunch.
Not while Minho beat me three times in Mario Kart because, according to him, I was "driving emotionally again."
I still blamed the tree.
He still blamed me.
By dinner...
I'd almost convinced myself yesterday had just been...
A bad day.
Maybe...
Maybe I had just overdone it.
Maybe I had slept wrong.
Maybe I was overthinking it.
That thought stayed with me all evening.
Long enough that I stopped checking for the ache every few minutes.
Long enough that I finally relaxed.
By ten o'clock...
The house had gone quiet.
Chris had an early shift.
Jeongin had class.
Changbin had somehow managed to fall asleep on the couch watching a documentary.
Felix and Hyunjin were curled up together on the other end of the sofa, half-watching the screen and half-whispering to each other about whether pineapple belonged on pizza.
Seungmin had already disappeared upstairs with a book.
Minho nudged my shoulder.
"Wanna go up?"
I yawned.
"...Definitely."
We headed upstairs together.
Nala immediately sprinted past us, somehow reaching the bedroom before either of us despite having legs about the size of my thumb.
"...Cheater," I called after her.
She ignored me completely.
The room settled into darkness not long after.
The bedside lamp clicked off.
The curtains moved gently with the breeze drifting through the slightly open window.
Minho rolled onto his side.
"...Night."
"Night."
He reached over automatically.
His fingers found mine beneath the blanket.
A tiny squeeze.
Then...
A few minutes later...
His breathing slowed.
I smiled to myself.
The pendant rested cool against my chest.
Nala had somehow claimed the pillow again.
Everything felt...
Quiet.
Safe.
I closed my eyes.
For the first time in several days...
I fell asleep without thinking about hospitals.
Or appointments.
Or pain.
But I don't know what time it was when I woke up.
The room was completely dark.
For a second...
I thought something outside had woken me.
Then I realized...
It was me.
I frowned.
My side ached.
Not sharply.
Just enough that I shifted beneath the blanket.
It'll pass.
I closed my eyes again.
Five minutes later...
I was still awake.
The ache hadn't gone anywhere.
I opened my eyes.
The bedside clock glowed softly in the darkness.
1:17 a.m.
I let out a slow breath.
Maybe...
Some water.
I moved carefully, trying not to wake Minho as I slipped out of bed.
Nala barely lifted her head before deciding sleep was much more important than whatever I was doing.
"...Lucky you," I whispered.
I quietly pulled the bedroom door closed behind me.
The hallway was silent.
The house slept peacefully around me.
I started toward the bathroom.
Halfway there...
The ache suddenly tightened.
I stopped walking.
One hand instinctively finding my side.
"...Come on..."
I whispered under my breath.
"Not now."
I took another slow breath.
Then another.
The bathroom was only a few more steps away.
I made it inside.
Closed the door.
Sat down on the cool tile floor.
Wait.
Just wait.
It'll pass.
It always does.
Except...
This time...
It didn't.
I stayed exactly where I was.
One hand pressed firmly against my side.
The cold bathroom tiles pressed through my pajama pants.
I waited.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Nothing changed.
"...Come on..."
I whispered.
"Please..."
Another wave hit.
Sharper.
It stole the air from my lungs so quickly that I folded forward before I even realized I was moving.
"...Ah..."
The sound barely escaped me.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Breathe.
Just breathe.
It has to stop.
It always—
No.
Not this time.
I reached blindly for the edge of the sink beside me, forcing myself upright just enough to lean against the cabinet.
The room spun slightly.
Not because I was dizzy.
Because every movement pulled at whatever was happening inside my stomach.
I stayed there for what felt like forever.
Maybe it had only been five minutes.
Maybe ten.
I couldn't tell anymore.
The pain never disappeared.
It only changed.
Sometimes sharp.
Sometimes dull.
Always there.
I swallowed hard.
"...Minho."
The name came out so quietly I barely heard it myself.
I should wake him.
I should.
I just...
Didn't want to.
Not again.
He'd finally started sleeping through the night.
He didn't need another reason to worry.
I wiped at my face with the back of my hand.
I hadn't even realized tears had started falling.
"...Okay."
I whispered to myself.
"Just..."
I took one shaky breath.
"...Go get him."
I pushed myself up using the sink.
My legs felt unsteady.
Not weak.
Just...
Unsure.
The bathroom door clicked softly as I opened it.
The hallway stretched in front of me.
Only a few metres.
That's all.
I could do that.
One step.
Then another.
The pain eased just enough that I almost smiled.
See?
It's passing.
I knew it.
I made it halfway down the hallway.
Then—
Everything tightened.
So suddenly that the breath caught in my throat.
"...Ngh—"
My knees buckled before I could catch myself.
One hand shot out toward the wall.
Missed.
The carpet rushed up faster than I expected.
I landed hard on one knee first.
Then both hands.
For a second...
I stayed exactly like that.
Breathing.
Trying.
Waiting for the wave to pass.
It didn't.
Another sharp pain tore through my side.
My arm gave out.
I slipped sideways onto the floor.
"...Please..."
I whispered.
I tried pushing myself back up.
Nothing.
Not because I couldn't move.
Because every attempt made the pain worse.
I curled slightly around it instead.
My breathing had become uneven.
Short.
Shallow.
I hated it.
I hated how helpless I suddenly felt.
"...Minho..."
A little louder this time.
Still barely more than a whisper.
The bedroom door opened behind me.
"...Sung?"
His voice sounded sleepy.
Confused.
A second later...
The hallway light flicked on.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Even that hurt.
"...Jisung?"
His footsteps came quickly this time.
Then stopped.
Right beside me.
"...Hey."
His voice changed immediately.
No panic.
Just...
Focused.
He crouched beside me so fast that one of his knees hit the floor with a dull thud.
His hand rested carefully against my shoulder.
"What happened?"
I tried answering.
Nothing came out.
I swallowed.
"It..."
Another breath.
"...It won't stop."
Those four words sounded so much smaller than they felt.
Minho looked at me for one second.
Just one.
Then his eyes dropped to the hand pressed against my side.
He understood immediately.
"...How long?"
"...Bathroom..."
I took another shaky breath.
"...Maybe..."
I shook my head weakly.
"I don't..."
"I don't know."
He nodded once.
"Okay."
Another nod.
"We're going."
I blinked.
"...Hospital?"
"Mhm."
"It's two in the morning..."
"I know."
"...I don't want to wake everyone."
"You aren't."
He gently helped me sit up, one arm supporting my back the entire time.
"I'll text Chris."
"...Minho..."
He looked at me.
The calm expression on his face didn't quite hide the worry sitting behind his eyes.
"I'm sorry."
His eyebrows pulled together.
"...For what?"
I looked away.
"...For waking you."
He stared at me for a second.
Then...
Without saying a word...
He wrapped his arms around me.
Not tightly.
Just enough that I could lean into him.
"You never have to apologize..."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
"...For needing me."
I closed my eyes.
The tears I'd been trying so hard to keep under control slipped free again.
He rested one hand gently against the back of my head.
"I've got you."
Another slow breath.
"We're going to the ER."
He carefully helped me to my feet.
This time...
I didn't argue.
I couldn't.
I don't remember much about getting my shoes on.
Or grabbing my hoodie.
Or walking downstairs.
Everything felt slightly disconnected.
Like my brain was still trying to convince me that this wasn't happening.
That if I just waited another five minutes...
It would stop.
But it hadn't.
Minho moved around the house quickly.
Not panicked.
Just focused.
He grabbed his keys from the bowl near the door before looking back at me.
"Can you walk?"
I nodded.
"...Yeah."
It wasn't completely true.
But it was close enough.
He didn't argue.
He just stayed beside me the entire way to the car.
The drive was quiet.
Too quiet.
The streetlights passed above us in slow flashes as Minho drove through the empty roads.
I leaned against the back door, one arm wrapped around my side.
Not comfortable.
Just...
Better.
Minho kept checking the rearview mirror.
Every few seconds.
I noticed.
"Stop looking at me. I don't want you to crash."
His eyes flicked back to the road.
"I'm checking if you're okay."
"I'm okay."
The words came out automatically.
Too automatically.
The silence afterward felt heavier.
Minho didn't say anything.
He didn't argue.
That somehow made me feel worse.
Because we both knew.
This time...
Neither of us believed it.
At the next red light, Minho grabbed his phone.
I lifted my head slightly.
"What are you doing?"
"Texting Chris."
My stomach tightened.
"No."
He looked at me.
"Sung."
"Don't worry everyone yet."
"They're going to find out."
"I know."
"Then why—"
"Because..."
I swallowed.
"I don't want them scared."
His expression softened.
"I know."
He looked back at the road.
"But they would rather know you're getting help."
I didn't answer.
Because he was right.
He always was.
A few seconds later, he sent the message.
I saw it from the back.
Minho:
We're going to the ER.
That was all Minho wrote.
No explanation.
No details.
Just enough.
The response came almost immediately.
Chris:
Okay.
Then:
Keep me updated.
That was Chris.
No panic.
No twenty questions.
Just...
Okay.
The emergency room was brighter than I expected.
Too bright.
The kind of lighting that made it impossible to pretend it was still the middle of the night.
A nurse came over almost immediately.
"What brings you in tonight?"
Minho answered before I could.
"He has stomach cancer and he's having severe abdominal pain that won't go away."
Hearing it said out loud felt strange.
Not because I didn't know.
Because...
I did.
But saying it made it real again.
The nurse looked at me.
"How long has the pain been going on?"
I opened my mouth.
Then stopped.
"...A few hours."
Minho glanced at me.
I looked away.
The nurse noticed.
Everyone noticed everything here.
"Okay."
She typed something into the computer.
"When did it become severe?"
I hesitated.
"...Tonight."
"Has this happened before?"
Another pause.
"...Kind of."
Minho looked at me again.
Not angry.
Not upset.
Just...
Surprised.
Because he didn't know how much I had been hiding.
The nurse looked between us.
"How often?"
I didn't answer.
Minho didn't either.
The silence did.
They took my vitals.
Asked questions.
Did blood work.
Eventually, I was moved into a room where I could lie down properly.
Minho sat beside the bed.
Still wearing the same hoodie he'd thrown on when we left.
His hair was messy.
His face looked tired.
But he hadn't left.
Not once.
I stared at the blanket covering my legs.
"...I'm sorry."
His expression softened immediately.
"Don't apologize."
"I didn't want this to happen."
"I know."
"I didn't want everyone worrying about me again."
He reached over and gently squeezed my hand.
"Sung."
I looked at him.
"You getting sick doesn't make you a burden."
I swallowed.
"I know."
"Do you?"
I didn't answer.
Because maybe...
Maybe I didn't.
A doctor came in not long after.
They explained that they wanted to run imaging because of my history.
Because of the cancer.
Because severe abdominal pain that lasted this long couldn't just be ignored.
I nodded.
For once...
I didn't argue.
I didn't say it was probably nothing.
I didn't say I could wait.
I just...
Listened.
And when Minho reached for my hand again...
I let him.
Hours later...
After tests, questions, and more waiting than I wanted to think about...
The doctor came back.
"We're still reviewing everything, but we don't see signs of an immediate emergency."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
"But..."
There was always a but.
"Given your symptoms and your treatment history, we want to keep you for observation and have your oncology team review the results."
Minho nodded before I even could.
"Okay."
The doctor looked at me.
"You're doing the right thing by coming in."
I almost laughed.
Because a few hours ago...
I was sitting on the bathroom floor telling myself I could wait.
Now...
I was here.
Being told I did the right thing.
Maybe...
I was finally learning.
When the doctor left...
The room became quiet again.
Minho leaned back in the chair.
"You scared me."
The words were quiet.
Not angry.
Just honest.
I looked down.
"I'm sorry."
"I know."
A pause.
Then,
"Just..."
He sighed.
"Next time something feels wrong..."
I looked up.
"Tell me sooner."
I nodded.
"...Okay."
His hand found mine again.
"Okay?"
I squeezed his fingers.
"...Okay."
For the first time all night...
I believed it.