a/n: buckle up because this is gonna get a bit heavy, dudes and dudettes
Jimin's POV
"How many tantrums today?" I asked as Y/N took Taeyang from my arms.
"So many tantrums," she sighed with exasperation. "He's been throwing his shoes at my face all morning."
"He takes after his father in his hatred for shoes," Jungkook cackled.
"Don't remind me," Taehyung groaned, rubbing his temple with comical despair. "The older he gets, the more trouble he causes. Just the other day I had to beg him for hours to let me put his shirt on him. He's been acting up so often."
Taeyang extended his little chubby arm towards me and pressed his palm against my cheek. Y/N and Taehyung both let out gasps of astonishment.
"Looks like his uncle Jiminie has a calming effect on him." Y/N beamed.
"What can I say, I love that little guy with my whole heart." I admitted and she peered at me fondly.
"Oh, excuse me, let me get that," Jungkook mumbled, patting himself for his phone that was buzzing somewhere in one of his pockets. Once he took it out, he frowned upon seeing the caller ID. "Oh shit."
"Who is it?" I asked.
"It's Quinn." He sounded nervous.
"You guys exchanged phone numbers?" I smirked. "Way to go, you player!"
Ignoring me, he grumbled something incoherent and slid his thumb across his phone screen. "Hello?"
What followed was a pause of silence during which I could hear faint rambling coming from the other line, borderline frantic.
"Wait, wait, wait, hold up," Jungkook said sternly, taking on a more somber look. "What happened exactly? Uh-huh," he nodded curtly. "Uh-huh. Yes. Uh-huh. I see. Okay. Uh-huh. Mhm. I need you to listen to me. Stay where you are and wait for us, we'll be on our way."
Just like that, he ended the call, a deep frown still very present on his face. As vaguely as ever, he cleared his throat and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, apparently not aware that we were all staring at him expectantly, including Taeyang.
"Well?!" I swatted my fist at his biceps lightly. "What was that about? It sounded important, so spill it already."
Jungkook blanched, which was a look I rarely saw on him. It was seldom that he'd get anxious.
"It's about Diane," he confided quietly. "Apparently something happened, but Quinn couldn't explain it to me very well. She said she was scared and didn't know who to call."
My heart jumped to my throat as panic flew in my veins. My breathing became more rapid, more shallow. Anxiety begun like a cluster of sparks in my abdomen.
"I think we have to go," Jungkook said, glancing down at his phone just as it chimed. "She just texted me the address."
"I'll drive." I announced, my expression flatlined. Hastily, I grabbed my car keys from the table and strode towards the door, leaving Jungkook to scramble behind me.
The last thing I heard before the door shut behind me and the cold wind slapped me in the face was Y/N's hushed but clear voice.
"Who is Diane?"
***
Diane's POV
I pulled my eyes from the highly polished floor to catch a glimpse of the hospital hallway that stretched for what seemed to be infinity. The air reeked of hair-sanitizer, the harsh scent hitting my nostrils each time I inhaled.
I hated hospitals. I hated them so fucking much. I hated the bright fluorescent lights, the colorless gray walls, the soulless, depressing ambiance. The stretchers, the tubes, the needles... The emotionally detached way in which medical professionals would treat the unfortunates that ended up there... The bustling cacophony of sounds in the ER, the way the red light would go off when my mother was being transported inside, bruised and battered, half-conscious and in agony-
"Diane."
I looked up from my dampened palms to meet Quinn's concerned gaze. She fell down to her knees in front of me, putting her hand on top of mine and rubbing it with her thumb.
"You need to make a decision."
At that moment, I felt like my heart was going to explode and my eyes were wide with fear. My thoughts seemed to jump from one thing to another, scattered and fragmented. All of my fears were tumbling out of my brain, like I was in some kind of an emotional free-fall.
"Babe, we can stay here as long as you want, but I fear that he doesn't have that kind of time."
Quinn's loving voice reached my ears once again. It was then that I realized my white-knuckled hands were clutching onto hers for dear life. I felt the familiar prelude to an attack, like a deluge of ice cold water creeping from my feet to neck and mouth, all the way up to my head, and soon enough I'm drowning, I can't breathe, help, I'm dying, help...
"Diane!" Quinn pulled me back to reality. "I know it's hard, baby. Believe me, I know. But you won't be able to forgive yourself for the rest of your life if you don't walk into that room now. Don't do it for him... do it for yourself."
My mind was a carousel of thoughts. The floor that was previously melting underneath my feet felt a little bit more solid now. Quinn's presence served to keep me grounded. I shut my eyes closed, trying to steady my breathing as the doctor's words reverberated in my head.
"Ms. Young, apparently your father had a brain stroke. It's a condition that occurs when the blood supply to part of your brain is interrupted or reduced. We don't know what might have triggered it, but based on our tests it appears that it must have happened in the last three hours or so. He's currently unconscious and unresponsive. We can't say with absolute certainty if he'll wake up. I have to inform you that even if he does, there still might be some long-term complications like loss of speech, paralysis or loss of muscle movement. You may see him now if you'd like."
"I'm gonna do it," I said in between shuddering breaths. "I'm gonna go see him."
Quinn smiled fondly. "I think that's the right thing to do, sweetheart."
With her help, I somehow got to my feet. The distance across the hallway to my father's hospital room seemed like miles away now. I had no idea how I even got there on my own two feet. I stopped right in front of the door, suppressing the urge to vomit.
Why do I even feel this way? He's right behind that door, laying on a hospital bed, unconscious. He can't hurt me. He probably can't even hear me, or even understand that I'm there. Why is this so damn hard?
Gulping thickly, I pushed the heavy door open. I was greeted with the sound of a heart monitor. Once my eyes refocused, I realized that there was a nurse next to the bed, readjusting the sheets.
"Oh!" the nurse exclaimed softly. "Are you by any chance Mr. Young's daughter?"
"Yeah... yes, I am." I forced out.
"Someone left this for you," she pointed at a medium sized red box resting on the table across the room. "It was a woman. She didn't say what her name was, but told me it was important that you have this."
"For me?" I breathed, staring at the box as if it were poisonous.
"Yes," the nurse nodded before scurrying over to the door. "I'm going to give you some privacy with your father."
"Thank you," I managed to mumble stupidly.
Once she glided past me and fleed the room, I took a deep breath in before letting my eyes wander off towards my father's form. Ashen faced, he lay underneath the blanket, i.v. tubes sticking out of him. Oddly enough, I was kind of ashamed to admit that... I felt sorry for him. My relationship with him had been turbulent at best, but I never wished that I'd see him like that. I surveyed the way his chest would rise occasionally with his irregular shallow breathing.
Trying to keep myself together, I opted for opening the box first. Staying alone with my thoughts and my unconscious father on the bed in front of me didn't seem beneficial for my mental health. So instead I decided I was going to concentrate on something else.
Unsteadily, my fingers drifted to open the mysterious box. I was surprised to see that it was full of many white envelopes.
Hesitantly, I decided to grab a random one. It seemed like it was a letter, so in case it was addressed to someone else, it felt wrong to open it. Nonetheless, I brought it to my face and read what was written on top of it.
For Diane's 18th birthday
The handwriting was very graceful and elegant and I immediately recognized that it was my father's. My heart almost stopped beating as I stared down at it, absolutely at loss about what this whole thing was. Why would my father, of all people, write me a letter? And for my 18th birthday? I remembered my 18th birthday very well. Mostly because of him. It was the day my mom was admitted to the ICU because of the violent beating she had received, and also a day I would never be able to erase from my mind.
Growing frantic, I quickly opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, unfolding it shakily. My eyes surveyed it, focusing on each and every word very carefully.
"For my beautiful daughter Diane,
Perhaps you're wondering why I'm writing you this letter now when it's been so long since your 18th birthday. Wow, you've gotten so big. It's kind of like a reminder for me of the graceful and formidable woman you've grown to be.
Not thanks to me, of course.
I'm writing you this letter in an attempt to make things right somehow. I desperately want to give you the birthday celebration you deserve, but sadly, time is not on my side. I was not a good father to you when I should have. As a matter of fact, I never was. So if I could turn back time somehow, this is what I would have told you back then.
I would have said to you that you're the brightest, most exceptional girl I have ever seen. There are many things you deserve in this world, but a father like me is not one of them. I failed you and brought you terrible pain, for which I am so sorry. I wish I could undo it all at once. I wish I could gift you the wonderful childhood you deserved. I wish I could go back and change, be better, do better. I wish I could love you the way you deserved to be loved.
But the truth is, I can't. You were just a child, pure and innocent, and I exposed you to so much trauma. I regret this now, but back then I was young and troubled. Immature. I was a mentally ill person. I did not know what bringing a life to this world meant, what taking care of an exceptional child like you meant. I'm not trying to make any excuses for my behavior, because I simply can't. And I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I just want you to know.
Not showing you all the love you deserved is the biggest mistake I've ever made. And despite all that, you've still managed to become a person I could be proud of.
I may be a monster, but in my eyes, you are lovely.
I love you, Diane. Dad loves you.
With love, Dad
I hadn't even realized how my tears had burst like water from a dam. I felt the muscles of my chin tremble like a distressed child. My walls, the walls that hold me up, just... collapsed. Why can't I stop crying?
I put down the letter and pulled out another envelope. The letters were barely visible because of my tears, my chin dripping and dampening the white sheet. There were so many of them... so many... I could only catch glimpses of them...
For Diane's graduation
For Diane's wedding day
For Diane's children
A sob I had been trying to stifle for so long burst through me and I started shaking upon seeing the next one.
For Diane's husband.
"Dad..." I whispered, hands clutching on my chest. I never thought I'd say this word out loud ever again. I was deeply moved. These were all from the bottom of his heart, words he wished he'd told me or words he thought he wouldn't live to say to me.
I turned around, heavy lashes blinking with tears. Brick by brick, my walls kept tumbling down. I shuffled over to the hospital bed my father lay in. There was something raw about the sight of him unconscious, it awakened a deep wave of grief within me. I leaned down, letting the back of my fingers touch his cheek.
Overcome by this hurricane of emotions, my soul was laid bare. Even though what my father had put me through could not be erased, I couldn't help but feel for him. No matter how much I tried to battle my compassion away, I simply couldn't. All this time I hated him, resented him, never assuming that he might have been suffering as well.
Pain brings even more pain along, after all.
The sadness and sorrow that had been kept inside me all these years were finally released. I stared down at my father, the tears sliding down my cheeks relentlessly.
"Dad," I exhaled deeply. "So many times I've sat awake at night, thinking of scenarios of what I would say to you when I see you again. How much I resent you. I resent you for the childhood I had. For never feeling safe in my own home. For being afraid of doing anything without getting yelled at. For all the kitchen cabinets you slammed... for all the shattered liquor bottles. For slapping me. For beating the living shit out of mom," I choked up. "For making me feel worthless... so much that I started having sex at such an early age just to prove to myself that I deserved to be loved. For getting myself into awful situations. For never having a father figure to look up to. For being the first man to ever break my heart. For- for..."
My words halted as I my lungs collapsed with a loud sob. I shielded my mouth with my hands and straightened up, trying to calm myself down.
"But most of all..." I went on. "I resent you because I simply cannot hate you."
***
Jimin's POV
I stumbled to where I was told Diane was. The door of the hospital room was slightly left ajar, so I slowed down my pace the second I caught a glimpse of someone in there. As I inched closer and heard her voice, I realized I might be unintentionally eavesdropping, but I just couldn't move away from that door.
And I froze. Hearing her pour her heart out to her father like this was simply heart-wrenching. Her face was a picture of grief, sorrow, devastation. The most heart-breaking thing I had ever seen. It was the kind of pain that changes you. Seeing her this vulnerable, the sobs erupting through her, the beads of water trailing down her porcelain cheeks... Everything turned into a blur. The sounds. The taste. The smell. The painful emotion slammed against me, rendering me paralyzed.
Still, I could not look away.
A single tear slid down my cheek. Before I knew it, I was crying together with her.
a/n:
mayhaps I cried
sorry if this chapter was depressing. There wasn't the usual amount of smut and sexiness lol but we all know we can't build a proper storyline on sex alone. I promise you the drama will be over soon. I'm determined not to make this book as dramatic and/or depressing as its prequel.
Stay tuned! Thank you for reading and feel free to share your thoughts on the chapter with me. Love you to the moon and back 🥰💕❤🌟🌜🌛🌠