CHAPTER 96: CHAPTER 96: THE CRUELTY OF REALITY

The room was silent, except for Meical’s gentle breathing. He laid beside Min-jae, his arm draped over Min-jae’s waist, leaving a warm imprint on his skin. Min-jae gazed up at the ceiling, his eyes wide open.

Despite his exhaustion, sleep evaded him. His body ached, but his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, replaying everything that had happened.

Meical had fallen asleep the moment his head touched the pillow, the strain of their earlier activities knocking him out instantly.

But Min-jae... Min-jae couldn’t calm his heart.

His fingers slowly curled in the sheets.

His family.

His real family...

His sister’s unhinged laugh.

His father yelling at a game.

His mother calling him down for dinner.

The little, ordinary memories that made his chest tighten until it hurt.

What were they doing right now?

Were they crying?

Worried?

Did something happen to him?

Was he lying in a hospital somewhere in the real world?

Did his body... still exist there?

Min-jae exhaled, the sound barely more than a shaky breath.

He turned his head slightly, looking at Meical’s sleeping face.

His features softened in his sleep, no tension, no walls. Just his husband, the man who held him like he was precious, who looked at him like he’d finally found a place to rest.

And then Min-jae felt it again, that painful twisting pull in his chest.

His voice was barely audible, he whispered into the darkness "I’m torn between two fears... to see my family once more... or never again."

The words shook him, and he swallowed hard, fighting back tears. He was unsure which prospect terrified him more.

As he laid there, he acknowledged a truth he’d been avoiding: he didn’t want to leave Meical.

The thought of walking away from this world was bearable, but leaving Meical behind was unthinkable.

Meical’s warmth, kindness, and his affection, all anchored him, making him want to stay.

And Min-jae... wanted to stay wherever Meical was.

Even if that meant letting go of everything he once knew.

He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat pounding too fast.

"But what about them...?" he whispered, his voice cracking.

His family.

The people who raised him.

Who loved him.

Who would be grieving for him right now.

Was it right to just forget them?

To pretend they never existed?

To build a new life here like they were nothing but old memories?

He felt sick with the guilt.

"If I stay." he thought "am I abandoning them?"

But if he left...

If he returned to his original world...

What would happen to Meical?

What would become of this man sleeping beside him, trusting him, loving him?

Min-jae’s breath shuddered.

He leaned close, just enough to brush a kiss over Meical’s forehead, light as a feather.

"I don’t know what to do.." he whispered.

"I don’t know what I want...or what I’m allowed to want."

Meical slept on, unaware of the storm twisting inside Min-jae’s chest.

Min-jae closed his eyes, letting sleep finally wash over him.

And the conflict pulled him from both sides, two futures waiting for him to choose, both equally terrifying, both impossible to let go of.

The darkness of the room faded. And another kind of darkness took its place. A hospital room. Machines hummed, their soft beeps the only sign that the man lying motionless on the bed was still alive.

His skin had lost its warmth months ago, settling into a pale stillness unique to those who existed only because machines insisted they keep breathing.

There in the bed laid, Min-jae, breathing slowly, the only sign that he was still alive somewhere.

Beside him, at the edge of the bed, a woman sat with her shoulders shaking violently, both hands wrapped around the smaller, frailer hand of the girl sitting beside her.

"Mom, please... please stop crying..." Yura whispered, her voice thin, already tired, but trying with everything she had to be strong. She reached up with her free hand to wipe her mother’s tears, but new ones rushed down faster than she could catch them.

She rolled her wheelchair closer to her mother, but it was as though the woman was in her own void now.

"How... how do you expect me not to cry?" the woman choked, her voice breaking into sharp, uneven fragments as she clung to her daughter’s fingers like they were the last thing anchoring her to the world. "I’ve lost both my children, Yura... both of you..."

Her sobs ripped through the quiet room, harsh and aching, Yura expression also cracked but from her situation there was nothing she could do.

Yura tried again, softly, "Mom—"

"No.." her mother cried, shaking her head helplessly. "Don’t tell me it’s alright. How—how can it be alright? Min‑jae is in a vegetative coma. The doctor said there’s no... there’s no recommended time for him to wake up. That he may..." Her voice gave out, collapsing into silence before she forced the words out again, trembling. "That he may never wake up. That we may have to... let him go."

She covered her mouth with one hand, trying to muffle the sound, but failing entirely.

"And now you—" her mother took a deep breath, as she patted the girl’s head with her shaking hands as tears rolled down her face. "Now you have glioblastoma. My baby... my little girl..."

Yura’s lips trembled, but she smiled through it. But she didn’t know if that made the situation better.

"Mom... it’s okay."

"No!" The woman’s cry tore out of her like something breaking. "No, it’s not okay. I just signed your end‑of‑life care forms. Do you understand?" Her hands shook so hard she could barely keep holding her daughter. "I signed the papers to accept that you— you won’t be here much longer. I signed them, Yura, and you’re telling me it’s alright?"

Yura swallowed hard, her small fingers brushing her mother’s cheek, her touch weak but steady. "Mom... I don’t know what else to say, I can’t bare to see you cry ."

"How can I not cry?!" her mother sobbed, clinging to her as if the sheer strength of her grip could stop time, stop illness, stop the cruelty of reality. "First Min‑jae... and now you? Why... why must you leave me?" Her breath broke, guttural and raw. "Let me go with you both... I don’t want to live without my children..."