Chapter 118: Your Voice After Seven Days

Han-geon slowly pushed himself upright.

With an unsteady gait, he approached the bedside, lifted the humidifier, and headed to the bathroom.

Now that he had truly reached the final month, even the slightest movement left him short of breath.

After thoroughly washing the humidifier and replacing the water, Han-geon slowly stepped back out.

Passing through the sitting area furnished with a long sofa and table, he approached the bed where Eun-gyeol lay and set the humidifier down.

Only after carefully checking that the IV fluid was dripping properly, that the injection site was not swollen, and that there was no fever did Han-geon return to sit at the bedside.

It had already been nearly a week since Han-geon began keeping vigil by Eun-gyeol’s side.

Thankfully beyond words, Eun-gyeol had stabilized quickly.

Eun-gyeol, who had been admitted to the intensive care unit, was transferred to a general ward after just three days.

The surgical wound was healing well, and the pheromones that had once fluctuated wildly enough to induce shock were said to have finally begun to stabilize.

When Han-geon said he would personally take charge of Eun-gyeol’s care, all the parents, including Eun-gyeol’s father, opposed it.

They said his body was already heavy from being full-term, so how could he possibly handle full-time caregiving.

They insisted it would be far too exhausting.

However, Han-geon calmly persuaded them.

Although Eun-gyeol’s unstable pheromones had settled considerably, the doctor’s recommendation that it would be best to continuously supply the imprinted partner’s pheromones until full consciousness returned also played a role.

‘Even so, Han-geon.

How am I supposed to face you without feeling guilty.

Eun-gyeol has already put you through so much, and now we’re making you care for him when your body is so heavy…’

‘It’s okay, Uncle.’

Grasping the trembling, tearful hand of Eun-gyeol’s father, Han-geon spoke evenly.

‘I’m in my final month too, so they say I really need the baby’s father’s pheromones.

And I’m resting properly while doing this, so please don’t worry.’

Contrary to everyone’s concerns, his body was not as strained as expected.

Unlike the ICU, which had been uncomfortable no matter what, this was a VIP room, complete with a guardian’s bed and even a small space where simple meals could be prepared, so there was nothing lacking for daily life.

“All done.”

After gently massaging Eun-gyeol’s legs, Han-geon slowly pulled the blanket up over him.

His gaze was drawn naturally to Eun-gyeol’s face, as if pulled by a magnet.

Sleeping soundly, breathing softly, with a peaceful expression.

As if unaware of the hopes, tears, and worries of so many people.

At times, that face looked almost too carefree, which only made Han-geon uneasy.

Even so, part of him hoped Eun-gyeol would truly rest well.

He must have suffered greatly in his heart all this time.

Though he slept like this now, once he woke from this long rest, he would surely stretch and rise as if nothing had happened.

In that familiar, beautiful, and healthy form.

After staring at his face for a long while, Han-geon reached out and lightly brushed Eun-gyeol’s cheek.

“…Idiot.”

He called him with a needlessly spiteful nickname, knowing there would be no reply.

“If you don’t want to hear things like that, wake up soon.”

“…..”

“…I’ll have to go give birth to Podo before long.”

Speaking in a blunt tone, Han-geon let out a sigh that seemed to cover Eun-gyeol’s body.

“So… wake up by then.”

During the week he spent caring for Eun-gyeol, Han-geon tried his best to strip his thoughts down to a minimum.

If he left even the smallest opening, the anxiety that crept in and swelled relentlessly felt eerily similar to the loneliness he had battled for months.

To avoid being consumed by negative emotions, Han-geon focused solely on what needed to be done.

He supplied Eun-gyeol with pheromones without lacking, and received them in return.

He rejected his parents’ suggestions to hire a caregiver or take turns, choosing instead to wash Eun-gyeol’s body himself and tend to him with care.

Using his body just enough like that helped him sleep well at night.

Yet anxiety lay in wait tenaciously, pouncing viciously at the slightest gap.

For instance, when Han-geon sat alone in the dark hospital room, staring blankly at the night view.

When he realized the beeping monitor sounds had become familiar.

When he suddenly read, like embedded shards, the traces of that day on Eun-gyeol’s face as he lay with eyes closed.

Each time, Han-geon faltered and staggered.

He could endure almost anything, but in the face of the despairing possibility that Eun-gyeol might never wake up, he could not remain calm.

The doctors described Eun-gyeol’s condition as progressing smoothly during rounds, but whenever Han-geon asked whether he would definitely wake up, they grew cautious every time.

Whenever anxiety attacked and tried to conquer him, Han-geon collapsed and fell to his knees.

Until the black, ghost-like anxiety that tormented him through the night finally dissipated with the rising sun, Han-geon endured by holding the hand of Eun-gyeol beside him.

It’s okay.

Now Eun-gyeol’s hand is warm again, this much.

So… so it’s okay….

Eun-gyeol’s hand, having recovered its warmth, brought Han-geon comfort without a single moment’s lapse.

It gave him solace and certainty.

Endlessly fiddling with the unresponsive hand, no matter how much he touched it, Han-geon sat there gazing at him.

There had been a time when just looking at those long, pale fingers made his heart race.

A time when he secretly wished he could hold that hand even once.

Having passed through those moments, new colors had now been layered over that hand.

Memories stained with pain and suffering.

The hand that reached out to grab him but failed, flailing helplessly in the air as his body retreated.

The desperate grip that clutched his thigh.

The moment it fell limp at the words that this was the last request.

And the moment he had felt the pulse through Eun-gyeol’s palm as he wrapped his arms tightly around him to protect him.

He was someone Han-geon could not even dare touch when he longed for him so desperately.

Begging miserably for even a shred of attention, he had not even dreamed of holding Eun-gyeol’s hand.

Yet Eun-gyeol’s gaze only turned toward him after Han-geon’s heart had already turned away.

Only after deciding that he wanted to run from Cha Eun-gyeol did Eun-gyeol try to hold on to him.

To Han-geon, who could no longer accept him, Eun-gyeol offered a belated confession with desperate eyes.

And in the end, he completed that confession by staking everything he had.

Han-geon’s eyelids pressed tightly together as if struck.

A small sigh slipped from between his lips.

Why were we like this?

Waiting for an answer that would never come, Han-geon cast the question aimlessly into the air.

Why did you and your love never manage to face each other.

Is our love destined to be like a game of tail-chasing, forever unable to reach itself.

Why have we wandered and lost our way for so unbearably long….

Looking at Eun-gyeol, who still stubbornly kept his eyes closed, Han-geon let out a deep sigh.

Come to think of it, the room felt a bit warm.

Just as he was about to get up to adjust the temperature—

A faint but unmistakable ripple, like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings, tapped against Han-geon’s ear.

“…!”

Han-geon’s eyes widened.

He whipped his head around and fixed Eun-gyeol with a desperate stare.

The red lips that had not moved at all for a week trembled ever so slightly.

In a single stride, Han-geon rushed over and leaned in close to his face.

“…..Ah.”

It was unmistakable.

Not a delusion born of false hope or fantasy.

With a trembling voice, Han-geon called his name.

“Cha… Cha Eun-gyeol?”

“…Geon… ah….”

It was clearly Eun-gyeol’s voice.

Like a sprout breaking through frozen earth.

His tightly closed eyes were half open now.

Han-geon lifted Eun-gyeol’s hand and grabbed it tightly, calling out to him with a shaking voice.

“Eun-gyeol.

Cha Eun-gyeol.

Yes, it’s me.

I’m here.

Can you see me?”

He was breathless, like someone who had run hundreds of meters without stopping.

His chest felt as though it might burst.

Excitement made his core tingle sharply.

Han-geon poured out words without pause.

“Eun-gyeol, say anything.

Anything is fine, okay.

Ah, no, I should call the doctor—”

“Han-geon… ah.”

Eun-gyeol’s dry voice cut through Han-geon’s flustered words.

But what followed refused to come easily.

Watching Eun-gyeol’s lips tremble weakly again and again, panic set in.

When Han-geon pressed his ear closer, saying it was okay and to say anything, a quiet voice settled against his ear.

“…I….”

The voice, broken and hoarse, was small and weak, like a wriggling insect.

His throat tightened painfully.

With the urge to stomp his feet in frustration, Han-geon leaned even closer to Eun-gyeol’s lips.

“Huh?

I didn’t hear you.

Just once more, say it again.

Eun-gyeol, open your eyes a little.

Please?”

Eun-gyeol’s eyes, which had been groping through the air without focus, closed again.

Between those mercilessly shut lids, a single stream of hot tears slid down.

“…S-sorry….”

“…..”

“…I’m… sorry….”

The words Eun-gyeol delivered with effort, clearly forming each syllable, struck Han-geon’s chest fiercely.

After finishing those words, Eun-gyeol fell back asleep, breathing quietly once more.

Like someone who had fulfilled a long-cherished wish, he slipped away just like that.

As if he had swum up from deep, dark unconsciousness solely to say those words.

Looking down at Eun-gyeol, now asleep again, Han-geon’s gaze trembled uncontrollably.

Swallowing the sob rising in his throat, he held Eun-gyeol’s hand.

He pressed his hot forehead against Eun-gyeol’s chest, which rose and fell in steady breaths.

As if breathing his desperate wish into him, Han-geon stayed that way for a long time.