Yuna lay quietly against the hospital bed, her body still weak, her eyes heavy from everything she had been through. The room had settled into a fragile calm again, the machines beside her steady, the light dim enough to let her rest. But her mind wasn't at rest.
Not even close.
After a long silence, she spoke, her voice soft but clear enough to reach him.
"I want to go home."
Ethan, sitting on the couch beside her bed, looked up immediately. He had been watching her without making it obvious, his posture relaxed but his attention fixed entirely on her.
"Home?" he repeated.
She nodded faintly, her gaze still on the ceiling. "My home. Not… yours."
There was no anger in her tone this time.
Just distance.
Ethan held her gaze for a moment before answering. "You can't leave right now," he said calmly. "The doctor said you'll be discharged the day after tomorrow. Until then, you have to stay here."
Yuna didn't argue.
Didn't insist.
She just closed her eyes again, as if even that small conversation had taken more energy than she had left.
Outside, Elena and Luca had stepped out, giving them space.
Now—
It was just the two of them.
Silence stretched between them again, but it felt different this time. Not sharp. Not hostile. Just… heavy.
Ethan leaned back slightly against the couch, his hands resting loosely, his eyes still on her. For a moment, he seemed to be deciding something.
Then he spoke.
"Yuna."
She didn't respond immediately, but he knew she was listening.
"You hated your father once," he said, his voice low, steady. "You blamed him for your mother's death."
Her eyes opened slowly at that.
Ethan continued, his tone not accusing, but searching. "Then why were you crying for him?" he asked. "For a man who controlled you… who forced you into a marriage without even telling you who I was."
Yuna's fingers tightened slightly against the blanket.
Ethan didn't stop.
"He sold you to me," he said, the words blunt but not cruel. "He made that deal without thinking about you."
Silence followed.
Then, quieter—
"Why do you still cry for someone like that?"
Yuna didn't answer right away.
Her eyes stared ahead, unfocused, as if she wasn't seeing the hospital room anymore.
As if she was somewhere else.
Somewhere in the past.
"I don't know…" she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
A tear slipped down the side of her face.
"Before my mother…" she paused, swallowing hard, "before everything… we were a happy family."
Ethan stayed still.
Listening.
Not interrupting.
"There was no fear," she continued slowly. "No fighting… no shouting… nothing like that. It was just…" her lips trembled slightly, "…normal."
Her voice softened, almost distant.
"Luca, me… my mom… my dad… we used to eat together every night. My mom would cook, and my dad…" she smiled faintly through her tears, "he would always complain about the food, even when it was good."
Another tear fell.
"But he was smiling," she added. "He always was."
Her breathing grew uneven again, but she kept going.
"He used to carry me when I was tired… used to help me with my homework… he would stay up late just to make sure I finished everything."
Ethan's expression shifted slightly.
Not much.
But enough.
"That's the dad I remember," Yuna whispered. "That's the dad I loved."
Her voice broke slightly on the last word.
"Then… everything changed."
The room felt colder somehow.
"He and my mom started fighting," she said, her tone darker now. "At first, it was small things. Just arguments… normal ones."
She shook her head weakly.
"But then it got worse. Every day… every night…"
Her fingers tightened against the sheet.
"He would shout… she would cry… and I would just sit there, listening, not knowing what to do."
Her breathing hitched.
"And then…" she paused, her voice trembling more now, "he started hitting her."
Ethan's jaw tightened.
Yuna closed her eyes, tears slipping freely now.
"I remember the first time," she said quietly. "I thought it was an accident… I thought maybe… maybe he didn't mean it…"
She let out a weak, broken laugh.
"But it wasn't."
Her voice cracked.
"He did it again… and again…"
Her body trembled slightly.
"I used to hide," she admitted. "In my room… covering my ears… pretending I couldn't hear anything…"
She wiped her tears weakly with the back of her hand.
"But I could."
Silence filled the space for a moment.
Heavy.
Unavoidable.
"Then one day…" she whispered, her voice barely holding together, "my mom…"
She stopped.
Her throat tightened.
"I don't even know what really happened," she said finally. "People said it was an accident… but nothing felt like an accident after that."
Ethan didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Because he understood—
This wasn't just a story.
This was something she had been carrying for years.
"After she was gone…" Yuna continued, her voice hollow now, "he changed completely."
Her eyes opened again, staring ahead.
"He wasn't that dad anymore."
No warmth.
No smile.
"No one to laugh with… no one to protect me…"
Her lips trembled again.
"He became someone I didn't recognize."
A long pause followed.
Then, softly—
"But I still remember the old him."
Another tear fell.
"The one before everything broke."
Her voice dropped to almost nothing.
"And I think… I think I was crying for him."
Ethan's gaze softened slightly, though his expression remained controlled.
"For the dad I lost… not the man he became."
The room fell silent again.
But this time—
It wasn't just pain.
It was understanding.
Raw.
Complicated.
And impossible to ignore.
Yuna's voice faded after that, leaving behind a quiet that felt heavier than anything she had said. Her eyes stayed fixed ahead, but they weren't really seeing the room anymore—they were somewhere in between memory and loss, holding onto something that no longer existed.
"I know what he became," she said after a long pause, her tone softer now, almost resigned. "I know he hurt people… I know he hurt me too." Her fingers curled slightly against the blanket. "But that doesn't erase who he was before."
Ethan didn't interrupt.
Didn't argue.
He just listened.
"That's the part that confuses me," she admitted, her voice trembling faintly. "How can someone be both? How can the same person who made me feel safe… become the reason I was scared to even breathe?"
Her eyes shifted slightly, glancing toward him for the first time since she started speaking. "You say he was a bad man," she continued. "And maybe you're right. Maybe he did things I don't even want to know about."
A tear slipped down again.
"But he wasn't always like that," she whispered.
Ethan leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze steady. "People change," he said quietly.
Yuna shook her head weakly. "No… people don't just change like that. Something happened."
Her voice dropped again. "And I never understood what."
Silence stretched between them.
Then she looked back at him, her expression tired, fragile. "That's why it hurts," she said. "Because I don't know which version of him to hate… and which one to miss."
Ethan didn't have an answer for that.
Because some questions—
Don't have one.
And in that moment, all he could do was sit there, watching her carry a grief that wasn't simple enough to let go of.