Haejo lay beside Hwa-Young in the dimly lit room, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His fingers traced soft patterns on her arm, desperate to keep himself tethered to her presence. She was his anchor, his medicine—his everything. Without her, he was a walking corpse.

His head rested against her chest, where her warmth radiated through him like a drug he couldn’t quit. He could hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat, a lullaby that kept the chaos in his body at bay.

“You should sleep,” Hwa-Young whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain tapping against the window. She brushed her fingers through his messy hair, her touch soothing and unhurried.

“I can’t,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “You know what happens when I’m away from you. It’s like my body shuts down. I can’t risk losing you even for a second.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t push him away. Instead, she shifted closer, letting him bury his face into the crook of her neck. He inhaled deeply, his grip on her tightening.

Hwa-Young sighed softly. “You’re so stubborn.”

“I need you,” Haejo confessed, his voice cracking. “It’s not just your touch, Hwa-Young. It’s everything about you. Your warmth, your smell…” He hesitated, his hand moving to rest gently on her stomach. “Your milk.”