What would happen, Ji-woo wondered, if she approached him?
She sat on the sofa across from the hospital bed, rubbing a towel through her damp hair. Though she knew he was still unconscious, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing over, searching for any sign of change in Seo Tae-joon.
At least she could see his face now. The mud had been washed away, and he looked infinitely better than when she’d found him buried in the wreckage.
Anxious energy thrummed through her, making it impossible to stay still. Ji-woo paced from the sofa to the bed, then to the window and back again, her gaze constantly returning to the still figure under the white sheets, praying for him to wake.
Hours later, the faint rustle of a blanket made her freeze. Her eyes shot to the bed. Seo Tae-joon’s eyelids were beginning to flutter open. They were safe in a clean hospital room, but in that instant, she was right back in the landslide, the thick, cloying mud sucking at her boots. The same terror that had seized her in the forest gripped her now.
She held her breath as their eyes met. His gaze was unnervingly steady as it locked onto hers, and she instinctively gripped the cold metal of the bed frame. He said nothing, his eyes traveling over her slowly, from the top of her head to her feet. The silence in the room grew heavy, suffocating.
Finally, Seo Tae-joon spoke, his voice gentle. “Come here.”
Ji-woo remained rooted to the spot, her eyes wide and uncertain.
A slight frown creased his brow. “Why are you standing so far away?” he asked, his gaze flicking to the empty space between them. “You’re acting like you don’t know me.”
Still, she didn’t move.
“Ji-woo,” Seo Tae-joon said again, a note of sadness in his voice.
The sound of her name shattered her composure. A sob escaped her lips, and tears streamed down her face. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.
Instantly, Seo Tae-joon was moving, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He winced as a sharp pain shot through his body, but he ignored it, closing the distance between them and pulling his wife into his arms.
“Ji-woo,” he murmured into her hair.
Her broken sobs intensified. Just hearing him say her name was enough to undo her completely. “It’s really you, isn’t it?” she choked out. “You’re Seo Tae-joon. You’re my husband.” She pulled back just enough to look up at him and found him watching her with that familiar, adoring expression she knew so well.
“You’re Seo Tae-joon,” she pressed, needing to be sure, “the man who can hunt a wild boar, who’s good with his fists and knows how to use a knife, right? You’re the man who packs the best picnic baskets, who brings me flowers… and who sucks the nectar from them with me, right?”
His expression softened, his eyes holding hers. “If I’m not your husband, then who am I?” He frowned, as if the mere suggestion were a personal insult. “Ji-woo, have you ever tasted flowers with someone other than me?”
Her eyes widened. “What? Of course not.”
“Then why are you acting like you have?” he asked, a flicker of jealousy in his gaze.
The question took her aback. You were the one acting like you didn’t know me, she wanted to scream, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she whispered, “I was so worried you were gone.” She rubbed at her eyes until the skin felt raw.
The memories flooded her mind again: Seo Tae-joon shoving her into the safety of the cave, leaving her behind. Finding his still, broken body in the mud and debris. Hearing him speak to her in his real voice.
Except that wasn’t his real voice. Not anymore. His real voice wasn’t the cold, flat tone of a killer. It was this—the warm, low murmur of the man holding her as if he’d never let go. This was who he really was.
“I thought I lost you,” she cried, her voice muffled against his chest. “I thought that was the end.” Her hands fisted in the fabric of his hospital gown. “No matter what happens, I don’t care what you want. You will never, ever leave me like that again.”
Seo Tae-joon’s brow furrowed. He pulled her closer, his arms tightening around her. She felt so small and cold, and all he wanted was to make her feel safe and warm again. He hated seeing her like this.
“Ji-woo,” he said, his voice low and firm. “If a moment like that ever comes again, I will do the exact same thing. I will always save you first.”
His words were like a spark to tinder. Ji-woo began to struggle, trying to push him away, to break free from his grasp. But he simply held her tighter, pressing her against his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his tone pleading. “You are the only thing I have to save. You have to let me do it.” As she continued to fight him, he began to rub her back in a slow, soothing circle. “I can’t give you what you want.”
“Seo Tae-joon,” Ji-woo cried out, her struggles finally ceasing. She went still in his arms. “Take your clothes off and hold me.”