She stopped by the front doors.

“Thank you,” I said to her.

“Go be with your husband and daughter.”

I couldn’t correct her.

I could only say, “Okay.”

I looked down and grabbed my phone.

I didn’t have a purse.

I didn’t have any money.

“I don’t have anything to give you,” I said. “Money or—”

“Nonsense. Go inside. Go help them.”

I didn’t know why, but I threw my arms around her neck, and I squeezed her.

So tightly.

And she squeezed me back.

I cried, “Thank you,” again.

The second we released each other, I rushed out the door and into the hospital.

“Everly,” I panted to the nurse at the front desk. “Everly Kwon. She’s in the ambulance.”

“I need you to calm down and catch your breath, so I can understand what you’re saying,” she replied.

I tried to swallow.

I tried to breathe.

And once there was enough air in me, I explained the situation to her.

“Come with me,” she said, and she led me to a private room. “Wait here. Someone will be in shortly.”

I didn’t have time to reply before the door shut.

And I was alone.

The room was all white.

Except for the door. That was brown.

And my hands. Those were brown too.

Covered in dirt.

Somehow.

I paced the small space, my hiking boots squeaking on the floor.

Back and forth.

I checked my phone, the screen showing me nothing, and I shoved it back into my pocket.

I didn’t know how many passes I’d made, but when I heard the door open, I froze mid-step and turned toward it.

Jiyong was walking in.

His arm in a sling, a bandage on his forehead, another on his neck.

I threw my arms around him. “You’re okay.” I pressed my cheek against his chest. “Thank God you’re okay.” I finally pulled my head back and reached up to his face, holding it, taking him all in. “How is she?”

He wrapped his uninjured arm around me and said nothing for a few seconds. “I don’t know. They took her somewhere, and they won’t tell me anything.”

“I called your mom. She’s on her way here. She’s going to get in touch with your brothers.”

Silence built between us as we stared at each other.

An aching quietness that I felt in my gut.

“That car”—his head dropped, his hand rubbing across the top of his hair—“it came out of ing nowhere. I didn’t have time. I couldn’t …”

“Jiyong”—I gripped his good arm, shaking him, making him look at me—“this isn’t your fault.”

“But she’s back there. All by her-ing-self. And she’s hurt. And that’s my ing fault.”

“No, it’s not, do you hear me?” I squeezed him, trying to make him listen. “You did everything you could to help he