Chapter Text
The moment Jaena powered on her phone after landing, the screen erupted, vibrating, lighting up with a flood of notifications that stacked faster than she could blink.
Behind her, Byeongjin pulled her bag from the overhead compartment, glancing down at the chaos blooming across her lock screen.
“Jesus. Is it Jaeyi?”
“No,” Jaena sighed, already bracing herself. “She’s still not talking to me much. Too busy making public announcements without looping in anyone from PR.”
He made a disappointed, contemplative sound, then leaned over her shoulder, reading. "Kyung- seventeen missed calls? What does she want?"
"Probably complaining about the same thing," Jaeyi said, taking her bag from him. "I'm sure Jaeyi's latest decision has her department feeling like a madhouse."
“Well,” Byeongjin murmured, “tact was never one of Jaeyi's stronger skills.”
“I know,” Jaena said, rubbing her forehead. “But if she’d just talked to me- or to Kyung- we could’ve planned a response that didn’t sound like… like that.”
"Well, I think her announcement was efficient," Byeongjin joked, trying to bring the mood up slightly. "Saying "Byeongjin and I aren't together, and I quit my job" saves a lot of people a lot of hassle."
"It's a PR nightmare," Jaena complained. "She's a PR nightmare."
Byeongjin leaned down and kissed the top of her head. "She's your sister, and you love her, and we will work things out."
Jaena nodded, standing. "I haven't even asked. How's your father handling the news?"
“I turned my phone off yesterday,” he admitted. “Protecting my peace for as long as possible.”
“Smart,” she said with a small smile. She wanted to keep the Tokyo softness intact, just a little longer.
“Are you going to call Kyung back?” Byeongjin asked.
“No.” She clicked her screen dark again, slipped the phone into her pocket, and reached for his hand. “I’m protecting my peace too.”
They disembarked together and stepped through the tunnel and into the terminal. Even protected from the wind by the walls of the jet bridge, the Seoul air was colder than Tokyo’s- sharper, biting straight through their coats. Winter, unavoidable now.
They made their way through baggage claim and stepped into the arrivals terminals, stepping past the waiting families.
"Did you call us a car?" Jaena asked.
Byeongjin nodded, holding the door. "Somebody should be waiting for us. Look for a sign with our names."
Jaena did, but instead, she found-
"Kyung?"
Jaena squinted as the PR specialist all but marched toward them. “What are you doing here?”
“You’d know if you answered your damn phone,” Kyung snapped, eyes flicking between the two of them. "I tried calling you over and over."
"Seventeen times, I know," Jaena said, trying not to sound defensive. "I was on a plane. Is Jaeyi okay?"
“She’s fine.”
Relief melted the tension in her shoulders- just a little. She tried to step past Kyung, looking- again- for Byeongjin's company driver.
"If Jaeyi's alright, then we can wait to talk about PR until I'm back at work. I have the rest of the day off."
“It’s not about that,” Kyung cut in, stepping directly into Jaena’s path—urgent, shaken in a way that made Jaena’s stomach drop. “It’s your father.”
Jaena let out a hard, exhausted groan, folding her arms tight against her chest. She shot Byeongjin a look- half exasperation, half dread. “What did he do now?”
Kyung’s expression softened, just slightly. “He didn’t do anything.”
A breath.
“He’s… he’s had a heart attack.”
Jaeyi paced her apartment for what felt like the hundredth time, boredom clawing at her. Seulgi had gone back to work; Jaeyi, in contrast, had nowhere to return to. She’d sent out applications to several hospitals, but between her very public engagement implosion and her dramatic exit from JMC, she could practically taste the hesitation in the air. And for the few places that might’ve considered her, she could imagine the unspoken threat of “stealing the princess of JMC from Yoo Taejoon” hanging over every discussion.
To hell with him.
She was a doctor, and a damn good one. More than her surname.
Her phone buzzed against her thigh. Her pulse jumped. Finally, maybe a hospital calling.
But the screen lit with a familiar name.
Seulgi.
The disappointment was brief, then replaced with warmth. She answered.
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” Seulgi said, a teasing lilt to her voice. “You sound disappointed to hear from me.”
“I’m not,” Jaeyi said quickly, sinking into a chair with a sigh. “I just thought you were someone interested in hiring me.”
“Well, if I ran a hospital, you’d be my first choice,” Seulgi assured her.
A small smile tugged at Jaeyi’s lips. “How are auditions going?”
“Pretty well,” Seulgi replied. “I finished the first half, and they’re letting me take a lunch break before pairing me with other actors for chemistry testing.”
“Chemistry testing, huh?” Jaeyi raised an eyebrow even though Seulgi couldn’t see it. “Anyone cute?”
“Not as cute as you,” Seulgi said easily. Then a small pause, the kind where Jaeyi could practically hear her biting her lip on the other end. “How are you doing?”
"You sound scared of the answer."
“I wouldn’t say scared,” Seulgi replied, voice softening further. “More like… prepared. Knowing you, you’re probably pacing your apartment and overthinking without anyone there to drag you out of your head.”
Indignance prickled at just how accurate she was. Annoying. And unfortunately true.
“I’m fine, Seulgi,” she insisted. “Don’t feel bad about going back to work just because I quit my job.”
“I don’t feel bad,” Seulgi said carefully. “I’m just… thinking about you."
"Well, I'm thinking about you, too," Jaeyi said, lowering her voice. "Keep thinking about me until tonight, and I'll make it worth your wait."
"Jaeyi."
Jaeyi sighed. Not that kind of phone call, then. "What, baby?"
"I'm thinking about how you quit your job. I've been seeing all kinds of reactions and speculation online as to why you and Byeongjin aren't together."
"I thought we agreed we wouldn't worry about public perception."
"It's hard not to when it's every third pop culture news article," Seulgi said, her voice quieting. There must've been other people in the room, then. "Some of those posts are about me, too. People are taking notice of the timing- our campaign, us spending time together, your announcement."
"Are you...saying you don't want to be public?"
"I want to be public as your girlfriend who loves you more than anything, not as the homewrecker who destroyed a dynasty," she said simply. "And we haven't had the time to talk to everyone involved and figure it all out. You aren't even talking to your dad, sister, or ex-"
"Not my ex."
"Sorry, just-" Seulgi sighed, collecting herself. "I'm just wondering if maybe...your decision was an emotional one."
A beat. Too long. Too pointed.
"It's okay if it was," Seulgi assured her. "We'd just had a good night-" she paused, and Jaeyi could visualize the blush in her neck. "A really good night. But making a life-altering announcement on your cellphone in my childhood bedroom- it's...well, it felt impulsive, Jaeyi."
“Or maybe,” Jaeyi shot back, heat creeping into her tone, “it’s something I’ve been thinking about nonstop since I learned the truth. Maybe I realized I don’t want any part of people who would keep me away from you.”
“I get that,” Seulgi said softly. And she meant it. That much, Jaeyi could hear. “I just worry… you’re pushing yourself so hard. With applications. With the fallout with your sister. Your dad. Everything all at once.”
“I’m never going back.” The words were sharp. A wall slamming down. “That’s the end of it, Seulgi.”
“You shouldn’t hurt your own career just to prove a point to your father,” Seulgi said, still gentle, still maddeningly patient. “And if you changed your mind, JMC would take you back in a heartbeat.”
“I’m sure they would.” Jaeyi leaned her head back, letting the cool leather of the chair hold her. “I’m phenomenal.”
Silence. Then a soft exhale on the other end.
“Has your father tried calling?”
Jaeyi burst through the hospital doors, lungs burning, snow still clinging to her sweater sleeves. She hadn’t even grabbed a coat—hadn’t thought of anything except get there. Her heart hammered so violently she could hear it in her ears.
Byeongjin stood outside the ICU room, and the moment he saw her, his expression cracked.
“Jaeyi-”
“Where is he?” she demanded, already trying to look past him into the room, breath coming in uneven shivers. Jaena had said only Come. Now. Room 412. Nothing else. No details. No reassurance. “Is he in there? Can I see him?”
“Jaeyi, wait- wait-” He stepped in front of her, hands gently gripping her upper arms, grounding her despite the tremor running through his own. A few nurses glanced over. A security guard hovered uncertainly nearby. Byeongjin shot the guard a warning look and guided Jaeyi into a small empty consultation room.
“He’s stable,” he said quietly.
“Let me see him.”
"There's a one-visitor policy in the ICU, and Jaena's in there with him now."
"I know the policy. I'm a doctor."
Byeongjin's eyes flicked to the sticker on her chest, clearly labeled 'visitor', but he didn't say a thing.
“I’m a doctor,” she repeated, breath hitching.
“Your hands are shaking,” he said softly.
She looked down. They were trembling so hard they hardly looked like her hands. She curled them into fists, snow melting into damp patches on her sweater.
“What happened?” Her voice cracked, small and breaking.
“Cardiac arrest,” Byeongjin said. “Kyung met us at the airport and told us. We tried calling you but you weren’t picking up.”
“I know,” she said, voice shaking. “I though- I thought you were calling about my quitting. About… everything else. I didn’t-” She swallowed hard. “How is he? What are his vitals? What did they say?”
“I don’t know. They only said he was stable.”
“Stable means nothing,” Jaeyi snapped, panic surging. “Stable could mean braindead.”
“It’s all I know.”
“Then find me someone who knows more.”
“Jaeyi?”
Jaena stood in the doorway. Her makeup was smudged, her eyes swollen, her whole posture wilted like she’d been holding herself up by force until this very second.
The sisters collided in the middle of the room, Jaeyi clinging to her like she was the only solid thing left. Jaena folded into her, shaking, her tears dampening Jaeyi’s shoulder. Only when they pulled apart did Jaeyi realize she was crying too.
Kyung hovered several feet away, phone pressed to her ear, worry etched into every line of her face.
“I want to talk to his doctor,” Jaeyi said, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand. “Now.”
“We paged him,” Jaena said, voice thick. “He’s in surgery, but- he’ll come as soon as he can.”
“Who is it? Which attending?”
“Jaeyi—”
“Kang? Jeong? Kim? Who?” Her voice climbed, desperation wrapping tight around each word.
“Please,” Jaena whispered, lips trembling. “I don't know. It wouldn't change anything if I did. He'll be here as soon as he can.”
They waited in the consultation room- everyone except Jaena, who remained inside with their father. The one-visitor rule in the ICU was ironclad, designed to prevent crowding and distraction. Jaeyi understood it on an intellectual level; she’d enforced the same rule countless times herself in the ER. But sitting on the other side of that boundary was…infuriating. Powerless. Wrong.
The doctor knocked once before stepping inside, his eyes skimming over the group- Byeongjin, Seulgi, Kyung, Yeri, and Jaeyi, all hopeful, all tense.
“I’ll get Jaena,” Byeongjin offered, already heading toward Taejoon’s room. The doctor waited- of course he did- he was standing in the hospital owned by the woman currently down the hall.
“Dr. Yoo,” he greeted Jaeyi with a curt nod while they waited. "It's been a while."
“Dr. Kim,” she returned coolly, nothing more.
He gestured around the private consultation space, eyes lingering on Jaeyi's hand held in Seulgi's lap. “A secluded room. Are you trying to make sure nobody knows you're back?”
"I couldn't care less about what people think about my being here; my father's sick," she said coldly. "And I'm not back; I'm just...family."
“Taejoon’s the president of the board,” Kyung added. “We’re not letting his family sit in a hallway.”
"That makes sense," Dr. Kim said, nodding, his eyes lingering on Seulgi. "Some notable family members here, too."
Seulgi grit her jaw, but before she could bite back a response, Dr. Kim's attention shifted as Jaena entered with Byeongjin.
“Ms. Yoo,” he acknowledged her, then addressed the room at large. “Before I begin Mr. Yoo’s update, I need all non-family to step out. The cafeteria downstairs-”
“They can stay,” Jaeyi said immediately, her hand tightening around Seulgi’s. “All of them.”
Dr. Kim’s eyes flicked between Seulgi and Byeongjin, obviously trying to piece together the dynamic. “O…kay.”
“Just get to the update,” Jaena said sharply.
“Very well.” He glanced at his tablet. “Mr. Yoo arrived in the ER a couple of days ago after a janitor found him collapsed in his office. He was in full cardiac arrest. We don’t know how long he’d been down.”
Jaeyi’s stomach clenched. An unwitnessed arrest. Her mind filled automatically with prognosis charts she no longer had the authority to update. Even ten minutes down could be catastrophic.
“A couple days ago?” Seulgi asked quietly. “He’s been here that long?”
Guilt rose in Jaeyi, thick and sour. He’d collapsed while Jaena was on the plane…while she herself had been refusing his calls. While she’d been denouncing his company in public.
“How long was he in arrest?” Jaeyi asked, voice restrained only by habit.
“We performed CPR for nearly ten minutes before achieving ROSC.”
“What’s ROSC?” Jaena whispered.
“Return of spontaneous circulation,” Jaeyi said instantly. Her training slid back into place without permission. “It means his heart started beating again.” She swallowed hard. “Any repeat arrests?”
“No. His heart is holding a rhythm. But he’s unable to maintain his own airway.” Dr. Kim hesitated, then for Jaena's sake, “He’s on a ventilator. The machine is breathing for him.”
Jaena went visibly pale. Jaeyi felt something in her chest hollow out.
The urge to act, to do something, surged so suddenly it made her dizzy. Before she could stop herself, she stood and reached for the chart in Dr. Kim’s hands.
“That’s not for families,” he started, annoyed.
“It’s fine,” Jaena said quickly- too quickly. “Just…let her.”
Dr. Kim didn’t hide his irritation. “You two are comfortable bending rules around here. Perhaps if you still had your credentials, Dr. Yoo, you wouldn’t need to read your father’s chart over my shoulder.”
The words hit their mark. Sharper than he knew.
Jaeyi ignored the sting- or tried to. She scrolled through the chart, eyes scanning vitals, labs, imaging, vent settings- her old instincts firing with painful clarity. But each tab she opened reminded her: she wasn’t staff. She didn’t have access. She couldn’t order tests, call a consult, question a treatment plan.
She was just…family.
“Cardiomyopathy,” she read aloud, the word scraping out of her throat. “He was diagnosed years ago.”
She turned toward Jaena, the question sharpening under her grief.
“Did you know about this?”
“I knew he was on some medication,” Jaena said, leaning in as though proximity could translate medical jargon into something she understood. “But he never told me what it was. What does it mean?”
“Cardiomyopathy is a weakening of the heart muscle,” Jaeyi said, the explanation spilling out on autopilot while her own pulse thudded painfully. “It's chronic, and dangerous, and under extreme stress, if can lead to sudden arrest. It's fatal if left untreated."
Extreme stress.
Like watching his daughter publicly sever herself from the company he’d built.
Like losing her.
Shame curled hot and acid in her chest.
“Has he been coming to you for treatment?” she asked without looking up.
Seulgi clutched the snacks from the vending machine. They were more of an escape route than an actual meal. The bright wrapping crinkled in her trembling hand as she tried to force herself back toward the consultation room. Each step felt heavier, her body dragging like she was wading through mud. Halfway there, her knees simply refused to cooperate.
She sank onto a bench, the world tilting slightly at the edges. The sugary pastry in her lap blurred, wobbling as her hand continued to shake. She knew that feeling- too long since she’d eaten, too much adrenaline, too much everything.
“Seulgi?”
Yeri’s voice threaded into the haze. A moment later her manager eased onto the bench beside her, radiating warmth and concern without making a scene.
One look at her, and Seulgi folded- shoulders bowing, breath hitching, eyes burning.
“Hey,” Yeri murmured, already shifting the snacks aside and pulling Seulgi gently into her arms. She tucked Seulgi’s head under her chin, rubbing slow circles across her back. “I know. Just breathe. It’s okay.”
She didn’t offer platitudes. Didn’t try to fix anything. She just held her while Seulgi’s heartbeat gradually stopped racing.
“I can’t… I can’t cry in front of her,” Seulgi choked out. The guilt sat sharp in her throat. “Not when it’s her father.”
Yeri hummed softly in acknowledgment.
"But I just- I...I can't help thinking that if I hadn't come back for Jaeyi, Taejoon would be okay. Their relationship was...before I came back, it was okay. They were okay, and I came and I ruined it."
"Seulgi, you can't think like that," Yeri chastized lightly. "You and I both know that Jaeyi was the farthest thing from okay before you came back. She's in love with you."
"But...but Taejoon is- he's almost dead."
"And that's hard," Yeri agreed. "For everybody. But you can't take the blame for that."
"I don't even know what I'm supposed to do, Yeri," Seulgi admitted. "The man can't stand me. He wants me gone, not at his bedside."
"You're not here for him," Yeri said. "You're here for her."
Seulgi’s breath stuttered.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. She needs to be with her family, and I understand that, I do- but I can’t follow her in there without feeling like I’m… making things harder.”
The walk to Jaena’s office felt like a death march. Jaeyi stopped outside the door and stared at it for a long, silent moment—long enough that she nearly turned around. Weeks of not speaking, then days of circling each other without colliding, all funneled into this one slab of wood.
It felt cruel, talking about them while their father fought for his life just floors below.
Still, she knocked.
“Come in.”
"Sure," she breathed. "I was upset at the lies, but I also didn't give you a chance to apologize, and that's on me. I've been thinking about- about how important family actually is, and I just wanted-"
She stopped when she noticed Jaena’s expression shift. Tighter, pinched.
“What?” Jaeyi asked.
“The importance of family?” Jaena repeated, brow lifting. “Jaeyi, the family is practically last on your priority list.”
The words weren’t cruel, just blunt. Still, they stung.
“I know that,” Jaeyi said, trying to hold her calm. “I’m trying to change that.”
“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you quit your job,” Jaena said, not unkind yet, but fraying around the edges.
“Okay, Jaena, come on.” Jaeyi straightened. “What’s the problem?”
“There’s no problem.” Jaena sat back, palms flattening against her desk as if grounding herself. “I just think you could’ve told me you were planning to quit.”
“That’s my business.”
“And ending your engagement? Was that your business too?”
“Yes,” Jaeyi said, sharp now. “It was.”
“It affects other people, Jaeyi. It was Byeongjin’s engagement too, and it’s Dad’s hospital—”
“It’s your hospital,” Jaeyi cut in. “You don’t get to call it his only when it serves your point.”
"I just meant-"
"And regardless, it's still my job. My life. I'm tired to doing shit I don't like for other people."
Something in Jaena snapped- not loudly, but visibly.
“Sometimes being part of a family means doing shit you don’t like,” she said, controlled but trembling. “Like I did. Like I keep doing. And for the record? I never planned on apologizing for lying to you. Because I was protecting your relationship with Dad, and with Seulgi, and- maybe it wasn't what you'd have chosen to do- but I wasn't going to keep it from you forever."
Jaeyi fumed- that wasn't the point. That wasn't the principle of it.
"But you never heard me out. Because the second you heard about it, you just...you blew up, and now, here we are."
Something deeply uncomfortable churned in Jaeyi's gut.
“Do you…” She swallowed, hating that her voice shook. “Do you blame me for Dad being sick?”
Jaena didn’t answer. Not right away. And the silence said more than any accusation.
“I just think you could’ve been more tactful,” she finally muttered. “That’s all.”
Jaeyi’s mouth opened with a retort she hadn’t fully formed- then Jaena’s phone buzzed sharply on the desk.
A message from Byeongjin lit the screen.
Jaena’s breath caught.
“…He’s awake.”
The room felt too full- too many bodies, too many emotions crowding the air. Jaeyi and Jaena stood on opposite sides like two magnets forced apart, each wound tight, each pretending not to feel the rift stretching between them. Kyung and Yeri murmured quietly in the corner. Even Seulgi kept her arms folded, bracing against the pressure.
It wasn’t loud, but the quiet was inherently worse.
Finally, the door opened.
"His brain function is good."
The room seemed to exhale with relief as Dr. Kim stepped into it, closing the door behind him.
Jaena released a sound that was almost a sob, running her hand through her hair. "Oh, thank God."
"His senses are intact," Dr. Kim continued. "He's talking, he's breathing on his own, and he's responding well to the medicine regimen."
"What's the timeline on his discharge?" Jaeyi asked.
"Well, we're in the process of moving him down to cardiac care unit-" he turned a Jaena. "-a good sign. A step below the intensive care unit. But, he's not quite ready to go home at this point."
"Will he ever be?" Byeongjin asked.
"The risk of complications is too high to send him home," Dr. Kim denied with a shake of his head. "It's my professional opinion that he stays here until we can get him a new heart."
The room tightened again.
“That’s his only option?” Jaeyi asked, voice thin.
“It’s the only definitive one,” Dr. Kim said. “Anything else would just be prolonging the symptoms. Delaying the inevitable.”
“And if he gets a new heart?” Jaena pressed, too quickly. “He’ll be okay?”
Dr. Kim hesitated- not cruelly, but honestly.
“Transplants are… difficult. Physically, yes, a new heart would dramatically improve his condition. But there’s the risk of rejection. And recovery is heavily influenced by environment.” He glanced at both sisters meaningfully. “He needs calm. No arguments. No work stress. No emotional upheaval.”
Jaena looked away. Jaeyi stared at the floor.
“And he’s at the top of the list?” Jaeyi asked.
“The second a match becomes available, it’s his,” Dr. Kim confirmed. “I’ll check on him again before I leave for the day. In the meantime, try not to work him up. Or yourselves.”
"Thank you," Jaena said, shaking Dr. Kim's hand.
"Oh, and Dr. Yoo?"
Jaeyi looked up.
"He's asked to talk to you."
He left her with that impossible task.
Byeongjin was the first to break the silence, clearing his throat and grabbing his jacket. "Jaena," he murmured, touching her arm. "I have to go; there's a meeting at work soon. Will you be alright here?"
"I'll be fine," she said, reaching for him and giving a quick kiss on his cheek. "Call me when you get a chance, okay?"
"I will," he promised. "Tell me if you need anything."
He left, and the group dwindled. Kyung and Yeri stepping out for air, then Seulgi, Jaena, and Jaeyi remained.
Seulgi felt the shift immediately.
The air changed.
She was an outsider again.
“I’m going to sit with him,” Jaena said, not even glancing at her sister before slipping out.
The door clicked shut.
Now there were two.
Seulgi didn’t rush toward her. She crossed the room slowly and rested a hand on Jaeyi’s knee, grounding, careful. “Are you going to talk to him?”
Jaeyi shook her head. “No.”
“He’s been asking for you,” Seulgi said softly. “He wants to see you.”
Jaeyi dragged a hand over her face, scrubbing at her eyes. “I don’t even know what I’d say,” she admitted. “Every conversation I imagine just…loops. It always comes back to what he did. And I can’t talk about that without losing my temper, and the last thing he needs right now is me exploding at him.”
She exhaled, long and shaky.
“So,” she added quietly, “I’ll wait.”
Seulgi nodded. “Okay. That’s alright. Jaena’s with him.”
“Of course she is.”
Something in Jaeyi’s tone made Seulgi frown. “What do you mean?”
“She said…” Jaeyi swallowed, her voice wobbling despite her effort to keep it steady. “She said I don’t prioritize the family. That I always choose my own comfort. That I’m probably stressing Dad out.” Her mouth twisted. “She didn’t say it outright, but…she kind of blamed me for him being here.”
“Oh, Jaeyi.”
"Worst part is...she was right," she chuckled bitterly. "Taejoon might be a pretty shit parent, but I'm a pretty shit daughter. And an even worse sister."