Y/N's phone buzzed quietly on the bedside table.
Caller ID: Dad's Assistant
Her heart skipped.
She answered immediately, her voice quiet.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end was formal, but there was something urgent beneath the tone.
"Hello, Miss. Mr. Fernandez has regained consciousness. The doctors say he's stable for now, but he's asking for you."
A pause.
"Please inform Young Master Hanamitchi to drive you to the hospital when convenient."
Y/N's hand tightened slightly around the phone.
Her father… was finally awake.
Her heart felt heavy with a mix of relief and anxiety.
"I… understand. I'll be there soon," she replied softly, eyes drifting back to Yuri.
Y/N gently ended the call, her eyes immediately drifting to Yuri, who was now half-sitting, clearly trying to shake off the weight of the night.
She swallowed the rush of emotions and stepped closer, speaking softly but seriously.
"Yuri… my dad regained consciousness. I need to go to the hospital."
Without missing a beat, Yuri nodded.
"Okay. Let's go. I'll wash up first."
Y/N blinked. "What?"
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing slightly but still moving. It was like watching someone pretend to be invincible—masking pain with stubborn pride.
That's when something inside her snapped.
"Yuri!" she raised her voice, storming over and gently pushing him back toward the pillows.
"Do you even hear yourself?! You were in a coma the whole night! I've been by your side—worried sick, watching over you like a complete idiot—and now what are you doing?! Acting like a hero in some drama?! Seriously?!"
He opened his mouth to speak, but she didn't give him the chance.
"Lie down," she demanded, eyes flaring with emotion.
"You are not stepping out of this room. Not when you're still recovering. I'm not risking you collapsing in some hallway just because you think you need to protect me."
Yuri stared at her—eyes wide, stunned not by the scolding, but by how tightly her voice shook at the end.
Her fists were clenched at her sides, her eyes glossy.
For a second, the silence between them was thick with everything unsaid.
And then he leaned back slowly against the pillow, finally relenting, eyes still locked on her.
As Y/N turned toward the door, Yuri leaned back against the pillows with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Okay, okay… The first ever girl that scolds me like that."
His eyes followed her with amusement, despite the fatigue still clinging to him.
"You've got guts, Miss."
Y/N shot him a glare over her shoulder. "You deserved it."
He chuckled, low and weak, but genuine.
"Fine, fine…" he murmured, his tone softening again.
"Just ask Uncle ben to drop you off, alright? He knows the safest and fastest route."
Y/N paused at the door, the name catching in her ears.
"Uncle ben ?"
"Yeah," Yuri nodded. "He's my personal driver since I was a kid. Grumpy but trustworthy."
She gave a small smile and nodded.
"Got it. I'll call him."
As she stepped out of the room, Yuri leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling.
"…You really are something else, Y/N," he whispered to himself.
Y/N's POV
Uncle Ben dropped me off at the hospital entrance. He gave me a gentle nod before driving off.
I pulled out my phone and called Dad's assistant.
The line picked up almost immediately.
"Miss, are you here?"
"Yes. Where is the room?"
"Alright, I'll come pick you up. Please wait at the entrance."
"Okay," I said, trying to calm the strange tightness in my chest.
I stood there, watching people pass by—nurses, patients in wheelchairs, family members with flowers and worried eyes. Hospitals always felt cold no matter the season.
A few seconds later, I heard a familiar voice behind me.
"Miss, I'll lead the way."
I nodded, saying nothing.
We walked through the hallways, my footsteps light, almost hesitant. The silence between us wasn't awkward—but heavy. Heavy with everything I hadn't said for years.
Eventually, we reached the door.
I stopped.
The assistant turned to me but didn't say anything. He didn't need to. I knew this was it.
My hand hovered just above the doorknob. My chest tightened.
It's been… what?
Ten years? Twelve?
I couldn't even remember clearly.
So many birthdays, holidays, and ordinary days had passed.
And now… we were finally in the same place again.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
This is it.
Y/N's POV
I stepped inside.
The soft beeping of the heart monitor was the first thing I heard—slow, steady, almost too calm. The air smelled like antiseptic and fresh linen, a strange combination of sterile and clean.
And there he was.
Lying down, pale against the white bedsheets, wires connected to his wrist, an oxygen line beneath his nose.
My father.
I froze for a second, just inside the door. My hand gripped the strap of my bag a little tighter.
So many things ran through my mind—memories blurred by time, old wounds I never talked about, that familiar pressure in my chest whenever I thought of him.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything…
But no words came.
I couldn't call him Dad.
Not now. Not yet.
The word felt… foreign.
Unused for too long, like something left on a dusty shelf.
So instead, I said the first thing that slipped out.
"It's… me."
My voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm here."
His eyes moved.
Slowly, painfully—but they opened.
And they met mine.
For the first time in years.
"My baby…" he whispered, voice hoarse and fragile, like it hadn't been used in days—or years.
I froze.
The sound of those words hit something deep inside me.
Something I didn't even realize was still waiting to be heard.
His eyes welled up, and a single tear rolled down the side of his face.
"Come… come and sit," he said, motioning weakly to the chair beside the bed.
My legs moved before my mind did.
I sat down slowly, the chair creaking beneath me.
There was a tightness in my chest I couldn't describe. Anger, longing, sadness—all twisted together.
But in this moment, all I saw was a tired man who used to carry me on his shoulders… now lying in a hospital bed, reaching for a connection we'd both lost.
"You came…" he whispered again, as if still surprised I was real.
And I nodded—because right now, I couldn't trust my voice.
He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes still glistening.
Then, with a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he asked—
"How was Hanamitchi treating you?"
My breath caught.
Of all the things he could've said… that was his first question?
I looked down at my hands in my lap, fingers fidgeting slightly.
"He's… he's been taking care of me," I said quietly.
"In his own weird, dramatic way."
"Haru Hanamitchi? In a dramatic way?" my father asked with a slight lift of his brow, a faint trace of amusement in his tired voice.
I blinked—then let out a small laugh.
"Oh, you're talking about Uncle Haru?"
His eyes twitched softly at the title—"Uncle."
"He takes care of me. I'm living in his residence now."
I looked away for a moment, remembering all the mornings, the teasing, the silent stares across the room.
"I already told him I can take care of myself. But he said… you gave him the responsibility to watch over me."
My father nodded slowly, looking away toward the window like he was chasing memories in the light.
Then his voice dropped low.
"So… you're talking about his son, Yuri?"
The question hung in the air.
I froze. The name sent a ripple through me I couldn't control.
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
My lips parted, but the words refused to come out. Instead, I looked down—heart quietly thudding as the silence between us deepened.
My father turned to glance at me again, and though I said nothing, something in my silence must've told him everything.
He gave a faint nod.
No teasing. No judgment.
Just understanding.
I swallowed and broke the silence.
"How… how did you end up like this?"
My voice was quiet, almost unsure if I had the right to ask—but the worry in my chest was too much to keep inside.
He let out a long breath.
"It's a long story, sweetheart. I'll explain it to you later, when my head's a little clearer…"
His eyes turned to me, sincere and warm despite the pain etched into his face.
"But since Yuri's taking care of you… I feel at peace. I trust that kid."
I tilted my head slightly, curious.
"Are you close with him?"
He gave a tired chuckle.
"Not close, no. But he was always brought along by Haru to business meetings and deals. Sat there quietly, always watching, learning. He's sharp. Doesn't talk much, but he understands more than most people twice his age."
There was something thoughtful in the way he said it.
"Yuri's a good kid," he added.
"Troubled, maybe—but good. Loyal. He won't let anything happen to you."
His words sank deep into my chest.
And for a second, I wondered if Yuri knew… just how much he was already doing for me.
I glanced around the room, unsure of what to say next.
My fingers played with the hem of my sleeve.
"How about I… visit you again soon?" I asked gently.
"Since Yuri's still recovering too, I should head back."
He smiled faintly and nodded.
"Of course, sweetheart. I'd like that."
Then, turning to his assistant, he said,
"Please make sure she gets back safely to the Hanamitchi residence."
But before the assistant could respond, his phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen, then looked up.
"Mr. Hanamitchi's driver is already waiting downstairs to pick her up."
I blinked.
Of course Uncle Haru would send someone before I even asked.
"Tell Yuri to rest properly," my father said with a quiet smile, eyes softening.
"And… take care of yourself too, okay?"
I gave a small nod, a little overwhelmed by the warmth in his words.
"I will. You too."
I gave one last look at him—my father—then turned and quietly walked out of the room, heart heavier than before, but maybe… just a little more whole.
Third Person POV
Y/N walked quietly down the hospital steps, the sunlight brushing against her face. The morning had been heavy—emotionally, mentally—and all she wanted now was to return home and check on Yuri.
She turned to her father's assistant at the entrance.
"You can head back now. Thank you."
The man gave a respectful nod before retreating into the building.
At the curb, Uncle Ben stood beside the familiar black car, waiting just as calm and reliable as ever.
"Miss Y/N," he greeted with a small smile, opening the door for her.
She gave him a nod and stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her.
⸻
Meanwhile… somewhere else. A phone rings.
A man with sharp eyes stood by a tinted window, phone pressed to his ear.
"Hello, boss."
The voice on the other end responded coolly,
"Say it."
The man looked at a photo in his hand—Y/N stepping into the car beside Uncle Ben.
"New face alert. I think she saw up , the daughter of Fernandez . She's now with Hanamitchi."
There was silence on the other end of the line. Then a voice, darker, more calculating:
"Investigate the girl. Quietly."
"Make sure not to alarm Hanamitchi."
"Yes, boss."
The line went dead.
Hanamitchi Residence – Living Room
Y/N walked through the door, her thoughts scattered like fallen leaves—some still lingering in the hospital room, some lost in the past. Her body moved on instinct, straight to the living room.
"Shistt… shistt…"
A familiar sound pulled her attention to the right.
Yuri.
Sitting like nothing ever happened—on the couch, legs crossed, iPad in hand, hair still a little messy from resting.
She blinked in disbelief and walked toward him.
"Why are you here?"
Her voice came out sharp, concerned.
"If you move too much, your wound could open again! Why do you—"
Before she could finish her sentence, Yuri looked up, calm as ever.
"Miss…" he said, interrupting with a lazy smirk.
"Are you… rapping?"
He caught her wrist with ease and tugged her down to sit beside him.
The sudden pull made her stumble a bit, but she landed next to him with a soft huff.
"You scared me, idiot," she muttered under her breath, avoiding his eyes.
Yuri tilted his head, a tiny grin tugging at the corner of his lips.
"You were worried."
She looked away quickly.
"Was not."
"Were too."
Their banter lingered for a moment before silence fell again—comfortable this time, with only the sound of Yuri lazily tapping his iPad and her heartbeat slowly calming down.
Yuri's voice softened, his gaze drifting from the iPad to her face.
"So… how's your dad?"
Y/N hesitated, fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt.
"Umm… we talked. A little."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Why not longer?"
She gave a faint shrug, her eyes dropping to her lap.
"I don't know what to say to him… I mean, I met him after 12 years."
Yuri blinked, visibly surprised.
"Twelve years…?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
She nodded slowly.
"My mom left me when I was three… After that, I lived with my grandma."
Her voice trembled, just slightly.
"But she passed away when I was twelve… and that's when I stopped talking to my dad. He brought me to a hostel, and I've been there ever since. The warden… she became like a mom to me."
Yuri stared at her quietly, eyes unreadable.
"Your dad didn't visit you?" he asked, his tone carefully even.
She looked away, her voice soft and raw.
"He did… a few times. But by then, I'd already stopped waiting for him. I didn't meet him.. even i started to forget his face "
The silence that followed wasn't heavy—it was intimate, like both of them were holding pieces of their past in their palms, afraid to let them go.
Yuri leaned back slowly, still watching her.
"You're stronger than you think, Y/N," he murmured.
She looked at him, surprised.
But he didn't say anything more.
Just… sat beside her.
And stayed.