HESU

The relationship with Haesu had never been easy. Harsh words, outbursts of anger, reconciliations that lasted far too short. It was as if they were constantly treading on thin ice, hoping that this time it wouldn't crack.
That evening, the argument spiraled out of control. Shouting, accusations, shaking hands—and one thoughtless act that couldn't be undone. The realization hit me instantly. Panic. Shaking fingers, calling an ambulance, fear that gripped my chest more tightly than any words.
While Haesu was unconscious, everything seemed unreal. The hospital smell, the cold light of the lamps, and one thought: "If he doesn't wake up, I'll never forgive myself."
When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a familiar silhouette next to the bed. The voice was hoarse, but alive.
“Please… don’t go,” he said quietly, as if afraid the words might disappear. “I’ll do anything. Even a tattoo on my forehead. Just don’t go.”