The hospital loomed ahead, a beacon of hope, and Seokmin's heart racing with anticipation, he screeched to a halt, leapt from the car, and sprinted towards the entrance.

As he burst through the hospital doors, his eyes frantically scanned the lobby, searching for a glimpse of Hana or any news of the baby's arrival.

That's when he spotted Mingyu and Byunghan, their faces etched with a mix of exhaustion and elation, as they conversed with a doctor.

Mingyu's eyes locked onto Seokmin, and he discreetly nudged Byunghan, his voice barely above a whisper.

"He's here..." Byunghan's gaze shifted, his eyes meeting Seokmin's, a warm smile spreading across his face. "It's a girl," he announced, his voice filled with a quiet pride.

Seokmin's heart soared, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He felt like he was walking on air, his feet barely touching the ground as he made his way towards Byunghan and Mingyu.

A happy heart propelled him forward, his every step fueled by an overwhelming desire to see Hana and their newborn daughter.

But just as he was about to rush towards the elevator, Byunghan's firm hand clamped down on his shoulder, holding him back.

"Wait," Byunghan said, his voice low and cautionary. "Let's talk to the doctor first." Seokmin's gaze snapped towards Byunghan, his eyes searching for reassurance, his heart still racing with excitement.

Byunghan's expression was calm and soothing, but Seokmin detected a hint of concern lurking beneath the surface.

"Seokmin..." Byunghan's voice was laced with a sense of gravity, his tone somber. "Meet Dr. Joshua Hong."

He gestured towards the doctor, his expression troubled, his eyes clouded with concern. Seokmin's heart skipped a beat as he turned towards the doctor, his eyes narrowing into a skeptical gaze.

Dr. Hong's face was etched with a sympathetic smile, but his eyes told a different story - a story of concern, of caution.

"Your daughter was born with a condition called Cystic Fibrosis," Dr. Hong began, his voice measured, his words carefully chosen.

Seokmin's eyes locked onto the doctor's, his mind racing with questions, his heart heavy with a sense of foreboding.

"I'm afraid it's a fatal condition, and...she may not live long." The doctor's words hung in the air like a challenge, a harsh reality that Seokmin struggled to comprehend.

Seokmin's face felt numb, his eyes frozen on the doctor's, as if he was waiting for him to retract his words, to tell him it was all a cruel joke.

But Dr. Hong's expression remained somber, his eyes filled with a deep empathy, but also a sense of resignation. Seokmin's mind reeled, his thoughts racing with questions, with fears, with doubts.

He felt like he was drowning in a sea of uncertainty, his heart heavy with grief, his soul torn apart by the harsh reality of his daughter's condition.

Seokmin's world came crashing down around him, his heart shattering into a million jagged pieces. The words echoed in his mind like a cruel mantra, "She may not live long."

His legs felt like jelly, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. He took deep, ragged breaths, struggling to process the devastating news.

Dr. Hong's voice was a distant hum, a gentle murmur that barely penetrated the fog of grief that enveloped him.

"She's being kept in the incubator," Dr. Hong said, his words a stark reminder of the fragile life that hung in the balance.

Seokmin's eyes snapped towards the doctor, his gaze burning with a desperate intensity. He nodded, a curt, jerky motion, before turning and rushing towards the neonatal intensive care unit, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum.

As Seokmin burst through the doors, his eyes scanned the room frantically, searching for Hana and their daughter.

And then, he saw her - Hana, still wearing the hospital gown, her face pale and drawn, but her eyes shining with a fierce, maternal love.

With tears brimming in his eyes, Seokmin's feet felt heavy, as if rooted to the spot. Yet, he slowly began to move towards Hana, his heart aching with every step.

His gaze was fixed on her, drinking in the sight of her pale, drawn face, her eyes sunken with exhaustion and worry. She didn't turn to face him, her attention riveted on their baby, her hand resting gently on the glass panel of the incubator.

As Seokmin approached, Hana's voice was barely above a whisper, her tone flat and emotionless.

"You're here?" she asked, her words devoid of any warmth or welcome. Seokmin's heart sank, his eyes stinging with tears as he took in the desolate landscape of her face.

He felt a pang of guilt and regret, wondering if he'd let her down, if he'd failed to be there when she needed him most.

Hana's voice was a monotone whisper, her words laced with a quiet despair as she gazed at their baby through the glass panel of the incubator.

"Look at her...I cant figure out if she's got your nose or mine," she said, her tone detached, her eyes welling up with tears. Seokmin's heart ached as he watched her, his own eyes brimming with unshed tears.

Hana's gaze remained fixed on their baby, her voice barely above a whisper as she continued. "The doctors said she has a lung disease. They're saying she won't survive."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, each syllable a crushing blow to Seokmin's already shattered heart.

Hana's tears spilled over, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs as she reached out to gently touch the glass panel, her fingers tracing the outline of their baby's tiny hand.

Hana's voice cracked, splintering into a million pieces as she struggled to maintain her composure.

"Even if I try to feed her...they're saying her heart might stop beating," she whispered, the words tumbling out like a dark, cruel prophecy.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she took a deep, shuddering gasp, desperate to stem the tide of tears that threatened to engulf her. But it was too late.

The dam had burst, and her tears flowed like a river, streaming down her face in a torrent of grief.

Seokmin's eyes locked onto hers, his own tears welling up in response to her anguish. He stared at her, his gaze drinking in the ravaged landscape of her face - her eyes red and puffy, her nose swollen, her cheeks stained with tears.

Her beauty was still evident, but it was a fragile, fractured thing, like delicate glass shattered by the cruel hand of fate.

Seokmin's heart shattered into a million pieces as he took in the sight of her, his own tears spilling over as he reached out to gather her into his arms.

Hana's face crumpled, her eyes welling up with tears as she abruptly turned to Seokmin, her voice trembling with anguish.

"They're not even letting me touch her, Seokmin!" she exclaimed, the words torn from her lips like a desperate cry. Her body began to shake, her shoulders convulsing as she burst into tears, great sobs racking her fragile frame.

Hana's eyes blazed with a mixture of anguish and accusation as she confronted Seokmin, her voice rising to a heart-wrenching crescendo.

"You promised me, remember?! You said this would be the best decision of our lives! That our child would bring us joy beyond measure!" She exclaimed, her words dripping with bitter sorrow.

As Seokmin reached out to comfort her, Hana's hand shot out, swatting his away with a fierce intensity.

"Then Why did this happen?!" she demanded, her voice cracking and shaking, her tears streaming down her face like a torrent of grief. Her body trembled with rage and sorrow, her eyes flashing with a deep-seated pain.

Seokmin's face was etched with tears, his eyes red-rimmed as he tried to envelop her in a comforting embrace.

But Hana was having none of it, her hands pushing against his chest, her fingers splayed as she struggled to create distance between them.

Seokmin's voice was a barely audible whisper, a heartfelt apology that seemed to tremble on his lips.

"I'm sorry..." he breathed, his arms reaching out to envelop Hana in a gentle, comforting embrace. But Hana was beyond solace, her grief and anger boiling over like a tempest.

She struggled fiercely to break free from Seokmin's grasp, her face reddening from the relentless tears and harsh wiping. Her skin was splotchy and inflamed, her eyes puffy and swollen from crying.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving with the effort of trying to escape Seokmin's arms.

"Let me go..." she sobbed, her voice a raw, anguished cry that seemed to rip through Seokmin's very soul.

Seokmin's arms enveloped Hana, pulling her into a desperate, all-consuming hug as they both collapsed onto the floor. The world around them melted away, leaving only the two of them, lost in a sea of grief and sorrow.

"I'm sorry...I'm really, really sorry," Seokmin whispered, his voice cracking with emotion as he buried his face in Hana's hair.

His fingers gently brushed through her tangled locks, holding her close as if he'd never let her go. Hana's body shook with sobs, her tears soaking into Seokmin's shirt as they clung to each other, sharing the weight of their pain and sorrow.

The air was thick with their anguish, their heart-wrenching cries echoing off the cold, unforgiving hospital floor.

Time stood still as they held each other, their love and grief intertwining like the threads of a frayed rope, binding them together in a shared, unbearable sorrow.

The silence between them was oppressive, a heavy, suffocating blanket that wrapped around Seokmin's heart, squeezing tight.

Hana's eyes, once bright and radiant, now seemed dull and lifeless, her face etched with a deep, unrelenting grief.

As they stepped into the familiarity of their home, Seokmin felt a pang of desperation, his heart aching to reconnect with the woman he loved.

He reached out, his hand tentative, hoping to bridge the chasm that had opened between them.

But Hana's response was immediate, her hand jerking away from his touch as if scalded. The rejection stung, Seokmin's eyes welling up with tears as he watched her turn and walk away, disappearing into the sanctuary of their bedroom.

The door closed behind her with a soft click, a stark reminder of the emotional doors she had slammed shut, leaving Seokmin alone to pick up the shattered pieces of his heart.

Weeks passed with Hana and Seokmin going to hospitals, praying and hoping for their daughter safety. They rushed to the hospital, their hearts racing with anticipation and fear. As they entered the incubator , they were met with a scene that made their blood run cold.

Doctors and nurses swarmed around their daughter's incubator, their faces tense with urgency.

Hana's eyes widened in horror as she took in the sight, her mind reeling with the implications.

She couldn't bear it. With a strangled cry, she turned and fled the room, her sobs echoing down the hospital corridor like a mournful cry.

Seokmin remained, frozen in place, his eyes fixed on the tiny, fragile form of their daughter. He raised a trembling hand, pressing his palm against the glass panel of the incubator.

"Areum...please wake up," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "Please be safe, my little one." The words hung in the air, a desperate plea to a universe that seemed determined to crush their dreams.

That night, neither Hana nor Seokmin left the hospital, their vigil a testament to their love and devotion.

The next morning, Mingyu's arrival was met with a sight that made his heart sink. Hana and Seokmin sat slumped in the hospital waiting room, their faces etched with exhaustion and grief.

Mingyu's frown deepened as he took in the sight of his friends, his eyes filled with a deep concern.

Mingyu's footsteps were soft as he approached Seokmin, his eyes filled with a deep empathy. He sat down beside his friend, placing a gentle hand on Seokmin's shoulder, the touch conveying a sense of solidarity and support.

"Seokmin, you guys should go home, get some rest," Mingyu said softly, his voice a soothing balm to Seokmin's frayed nerves. "I'll stay here, keep an eye on Areum."

Seokmin's response was immediate, his voice firm but laced with a hint of desperation. "I'm fine, Mingyu. I can stay." But Mingyu's expression was unyielding, his eyes filled with a deep concern.

"Seokmin, listen to me," he said gently, his voice firm but soft. "I'm not just saying this for your sake. Hana...she hasn't moved since yesterday." Mingyu's voice trailed off, the unspoken words hanging in the air like a challenge.

Their gazes drifted to Hana, who sat motionless, her eyes staring blankly into space. Her face was a mask of emptiness, her emotions seemingly drained from her very being.

Seokmin's heart ached as he watched her, his soul heavy with the weight of her sorrow.

He sighed softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to her. "Hana, let's go home. We can come back tomorrow." Hana didn't respond, didn't even acknowledge his words.

She simply rose from her seat, her movements mechanical, and followed Seokmin out of the hospital room, her eyes fixed on some point ahead, her expression unchanging.

The silence between them was oppressive, a palpable force that seemed to suffocate Seokmin, leaving him gasping for air.

The rain lashed down on the car, a relentless drumbeat that mirrored the turmoil brewing inside.

Seokmin's eyes flicked towards Hana, who sat beside him, her face a statue of sorrow, her eyes fixed on some point beyond the rain-soaked windshield.

Seokmin's voice was low and husky, threaded with a deep hurt, as he spoke the words that had been bottled up inside him for far too long. "It's been four months, Hana...four months since you last spoke to me, really spoke to me."

The pain in his voice was palpable, a living, breathing thing that seemed to pulse with every beat of his heart.

He paused, taking a deep breath as he reached out, his hand covering Hana's, which lay limp and unresponsive in her lap.

"Trust me, Hana...I'll do everything in my power to make sure Areum is okay. I'll move heaven and earth, I swear." His voice was filled with a determination, a fierce resolve that seemed to burn within him like a fire.

But beneath the determination, beneath the reassurance, Seokmin's voice cracked with a desperate longing.

"Please, Hana...talk to me. I miss you, I miss us. I miss the way things used to be." The words hung in the air, a poignant plea that seemed to echo through the rain-soaked silence.

Hana's words dripped with venom, her voice a barely audible whisper as she stared blankly ahead, her eyes fixed on some point beyond the rain-soaked windshield.

"I wish I hadn't come to Yongin," she said, her voice laced with regret.

"I wish I hadn't met you and fallen in love." The words hung in the air, a poignant accusation.

"I wish I hadn't married you." Seokmin's face contorted in pain.

"I wish I hadn't agreed to you when you asked for kids." Hana's lips quivered, her voice cracking.

"I wish...Areum hadn't been born to me."

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