The night settled slowly around them, quiet and undisturbed, as if the world outside had decided to leave them alone for once. Yuna's breathing grew softer, more even, her body finally giving in to the exhaustion that had followed her for days. She drifted into sleep without realizing it, her face relaxed in a way that hadn't been seen in a long time. Ethan remained where he was, standing beside the bed for a while, watching her. The room was dim, the soft glow of the light tracing the outline of her face, the calm in her expression almost fragile. He studied her like that, silently, as if memorizing something he didn't want to lose.
After a moment, he exhaled quietly and murmured under his breath, his voice low enough that it barely disturbed the stillness. "I won't let you go… whatever it takes." The words weren't dramatic, not loud, but they carried a certainty that didn't need emphasis. It wasn't just a promise—it was something deeper, something rooted in the way he had already started to make decisions without realizing it.
He stepped back eventually, moving toward the couch in the room. Instead of leaving, he sat down, leaning back slightly, his eyes still drifting toward her one last time before closing. Sleep came slowly for him, not deep, not peaceful, but enough to let the hours pass.
Morning arrived quietly.
Soft light filled the room again, touching everything with a calm that felt almost unreal after everything that had happened. Yuna stirred first, her eyes opening slowly as she adjusted to the brightness. For a moment, she seemed disoriented, her mind catching up with where she was. Then she noticed the stillness—and then Ethan, sitting on the couch, his posture slightly slouched from sleep.
She watched him for a few seconds.
There was something about seeing him like that—unguarded, not alert, not controlled—that made her chest tighten in a way she didn't fully understand.
Before she could say anything, the door opened slightly, and a nurse stepped in with a gentle smile. "Good morning," she said softly. "You're being discharged today."
The words felt almost sudden.
Yuna nodded faintly, still waking up. "Okay…"
The rest of the morning passed in quiet efficiency. Papers were signed, instructions were given, and everything moved forward without complication. Ethan handled most of it without needing to be asked, his tone calm, his actions precise, as if he had already planned every step.
By the time they left the hospital, the outside world felt different—brighter, louder, more alive than the contained stillness of the room they had just left.
The drive to the penthouse was quiet.
Yuna leaned back in the seat, her energy still low, her thoughts drifting between everything that had happened and everything that still felt unresolved. Ethan didn't push conversation. He just drove, his attention steady, occasionally glancing toward her to make sure she was okay.
When they finally arrived, the building stood tall and silent, as if nothing had changed within its walls.
Inside, it was the same.
Luca and Elena weren't there. The space felt emptier than usual, quieter in a way that made every movement more noticeable.
Yuna stepped in slowly, her body still weak, her steps careful.
Before she could go further, Ethan moved closer.
"Don't walk," he said simply.
Before she could protest, he lifted her into his arms.
The movement was smooth, practiced, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Yuna let out a small, surprised breath, her hand instinctively resting against his shoulder.
"Ethan…" she murmured softly.
"You're not fully recovered," he replied.
There was no room for argument in his tone—but it wasn't harsh. Just certain.
Yuna didn't push it.
Instead, she stayed still, her head tilting slightly as she let him carry her upstairs. The quiet of the house followed them, their footsteps the only sound as they moved through the familiar space.
When they reached her room, Ethan stepped inside and walked toward the bed, lowering her carefully onto it. His movements were steady, precise, making sure she was comfortable before pulling the blanket lightly over her.
Yuna watched him the entire time.
There was something different about this version of him.
Not distant.
Not cold.
Just… present.
"Rest," he said quietly.
Yuna didn't respond immediately. Her eyes stayed on him, her thoughts still shifting, still trying to understand everything that had changed between them.
"You're staying?" she asked softly.
Ethan looked at her.
"Yes."
The answer was simple.
Yuna let out a small breath, leaning back against the pillow. The exhaustion hadn't fully left her, but something about being here—back in a place that felt familiar—made it easier to relax.
Ethan moved slightly away, but not far, staying close enough that his presence could still be felt without overwhelming her.
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable.
It was calm.
Yuna's eyes slowly began to close again, her body slipping back into rest, her mind quieter than it had been in days.
And Ethan—
He stayed.
Watching.
Waiting.
Not rushing anything.
Not forcing anything.
Just being there.
Because for now—
That was enough.
Yuna had fallen asleep not long after, her breathing soft and even, the quiet of the room wrapping around her again. Ethan stood there for a moment, watching her, making sure she was truly resting before he finally turned and walked out.
Downstairs, the penthouse felt empty, but for once, that silence didn't feel cold—it felt like something he needed to fill. He moved into the kitchen without hesitation, pulling out what he needed with a kind of quiet focus that wasn't about routine or habit, but intention.
He prepared something simple, something light enough for her to eat, his movements steady, controlled, yet careful in a way that reflected the shift in him. Once the food was ready, he set it on a tray, adding the medicine beside it, checking everything once before heading back upstairs.
When he entered the room again, Yuna had just woken up. She looked tired, her eyes still heavy, but there was awareness in them now. She pushed herself up slightly as he walked in. "You should have called me," she murmured softly.
"You needed rest," Ethan replied, placing the tray down beside her.
He helped her sit up properly, adjusting the pillow behind her before handing her the food. Yuna didn't argue this time. She ate slowly, quietly, the room filled only with the small, natural sounds of movement. Ethan stayed beside her, watching without making it obvious, making sure she finished enough before passing her the medicine. She took it without protest.
When she was done, a silence settled again—but this one felt heavier.
Yuna didn't lean back immediately.
Instead, she stayed still for a moment, her fingers tightening slightly in her lap.
"Ethan…" she said softly.
He looked at her. "What is it?"
"I want to show you something."
There was something in her tone that made him pause.
She slowly shifted, carefully stepping down from the bed despite her weakness. Ethan moved instinctively, ready to steady her, but she shook her head lightly. "I'm okay," she whispered.
She walked to the drawer, her movements slow, deliberate, like every step carried weight. When she opened it, her hand trembled slightly as she reached inside.
For a moment, she just stood there.
Then she turned back toward him.
In her hand—
Papers.
Small.
Fragile.
Important.
She walked back and held them out to him, her eyes already filling with tears.
Ethan took them carefully.
He looked down.
A medical report.
And beneath it—
An image.
The faint, unclear shape that still meant everything.
His expression didn't change immediately.
But his grip tightened just slightly.
Yuna's voice broke as she spoke. "That's… our baby."
The words shattered the silence.
Her tears fell now, uncontrollable, her voice trembling with everything she had been holding in. "I kept it… I didn't throw it away… I couldn't…"
Ethan didn't look up right away.
His eyes stayed on the image.
On something that was there—
And now wasn't.
Yuna stepped closer, her hands shaking. "I didn't even get to…" she stopped, her breath catching painfully, "I didn't even get to hear anything… or feel anything properly…"
Her voice collapsed into quiet sobs.
"I was so careless… I didn't take care of myself… I didn't even know how to protect it…"
Ethan finally looked up at her.
Her face was filled with guilt.
With loss.
With something far deeper than words.
"I couldn't keep it safe…" she whispered. "I couldn't even be a proper mother…"
Ethan stood still for a moment.
Then slowly—
He reached out.
Not to take the papers.
But to hold her.
Pulling her gently but firmly into his arms.
"You didn't lose it alone," he said quietly.
Yuna shook her head against him, crying harder. "But I should have been stronger…"
Ethan's hand moved to the back of her head, holding her there, steadying her as her emotions broke completely.
"It wasn't your fault," he said.
And this time—
He meant it.
Not as comfort.
But as truth.