From 400+ to 1100+ subscribers. Wow. THANK YOU SO MUCH :) Btw, this isn't the last chapter. Hehe Two chapters more! ^^

---

 

 

 

Author's POV

 

Rushing into the hospital and pushing past those converged around the reception desk, Jiyong demanded to know where his family is. The receptionist barely casted him a glance, however, and told him to just wait his turn. He was about to protest; to shout and scream until he's been given a goddamn answer, when she joined his side, slipping her arm through his. And he relaxed, somewhat.

 

He didn't struggle as she gently tugged him away, his anger having abated. She's always had much the same effect on him, unless, of course, she was the cause of his temper.

 

"Let's sit down," Dara suggested, gently pulling him over towards a couple of vacant seats. They squeezed past clusters of patients; some idly walking around, working out the aches and pains in their joints from having been subjected to hours of wait, while others were sprawled out on seats, holding bloody garments to wounds.

 

Shame washed over Jiyong, weighing him down so heavily he believes he'll never surface from it. And then guilt intensified his growing despondency when Dara gently patted his arm, promising to return, and soon. He watched her march up to the reception desk, envisioning the hard set of her jaw and the narrowed eyes and how she'd speak in a calm, cold voice, demanding to gain some information as to how his family is. He didn't deserve her kindness and understanding, he thought. He'd treated her wrong, told her lies, and hurt her. And every day he regretted those actions; every time he saw those eyes that had captivated him from the age of thirteen. Because it was then that he'd realized…

 

"Jiyong?" There's a gentle tugging on his arm, Dara's voice dragging him back to reality. "The receptionist said someone will be coming down to see you soon. A doctor's coming."

 

He nodded tightly, not trusting himself to speak. Maybe he's overacting and they're all fine; just cuts and bruises, perhaps. But then the seed of doubt planted alternative scenarios in his mind, causing his hands to clench, and his body to go rigid.

 

A hand, warm and slight, slipped into his. He squeezes back: Thank you.

 

"Kwon Jiyong?"

 

His head snapped up, locking on that of a man clad in a dark shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He's in his late forties, perhaps even early fifties, with a receding hairline that has left an outcrop of greying hair. He radiated neither joy nor despondency; a mask erected from years of being within the medical field when a certain degree of detachment between patient and doctor was required.

 

"Yes," Dara said. "This is Jiyong." She paused. "Are they okay?"

 

The doctor hesitated for a moment. "Can we go somewhere a little more private?" he suggested.

 

"No." Jiyong's voice startled both of them; they took moment to just stare at him before the doctor repeats himself, but this time, as an order.

 

Standing up, Dara gently pulled Jiyong along with her, her grip slowly tightening.

 

Dread and anxiety dominated each of his thoughts, leaving little room for scrutinizing his surroundings. But looking back on this dreadful day, he remembered the resurgence of the color white; white walls, white floor, white beds. And then that antiseptic smell that infiltrated his nostrils, forever binding the odor to the association of growing fear and guilt.

 

Traipsing past cubicles, they finally reached an office door with a plaque reading: Dr. Kim. The doctor pushed the door open and they followed suit.

 

He took a few steps into his office and turned around, his eyes suddenly soft. This just triggered the building of Jiyong's defensive wall.

 

"Sit down, please," Dr. Kimrequested, indicating an overstuffed settee in front of them.

 

Jiyong shook his head. "No."

 

"Jiyong," Dara whispered, "let's just take a seat and…"

 

"No," he repeated, firmer this time. His eyes fixed on the doctor, as he demanded, "Just say it. Whatever you need to tell me."

 

Dr. Kimclasped his hands together, reluctantly accepting his orders. "Okay. Your siblings: Seungri and Yongdeuk are fine. Just cuts and bruises. Dami has a concussion, which we'll want to monitor today. But nothing too serious. They're very lucky."

 

Relief instantly claimed Jiyong, sending his legs weak. But with Dara's presence, and her arm reaching around to grasp his shoulders, he stayed upright. He expelled a long breath.

 

"Mom?" he asked, his voice coming out choked. "What about her?"

 

The doctor's hand came to sweep his hair from off his forehead; a nervous habit, perhaps, that came when he found news difficult to deliver.

 

"She's in a critical condition," Dr. Kimdeclared. His following words barely filtered through to Jiyong, his mind having frozen on those two words: critical condition. "We're…our best…injuries….extensive…lot of blood…hard to predict…surgery…next few hours."

 

"What happened?" Jiyong's voice was quiet, but still halted the doctor's explanation as if he'd shouted his words.

 

"Pardon?" the doctor asked.

 

"How did this happen? How did they crash? I want to know," Jiyong demanded. "Had she been drinking? Was she drunk?"

 

"We don't know," the doctor began, "but witnesses claim the crash was due to a car swerving and crashing into the side of her car. That's all we know." His hand swept back a lock of hair. "I'm sorry I can't tell you more."

 

Jiyong's fleeting burst of anger has subsided, extinguished by a wave of despair and distress. I need Mom to be okay, he thought. She can't leave us, too. She can't.

 

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He closed them for a moment, refusing to let them fall. Stay strong, he ordered himself. The kids need you.

 

"Where are they?" Jiyong asked. "Where are the kids? I need to see them. They need me." And I need them.

 

"I'll take you to them now," Dr. Kimsaid. "Follow me."

 

Dara's hand never left his as they weaved past patients and doctors, sidestepping discarded trolleys and chairs. Her eyes sporadically flitted to his face, watching his expression, waiting for tears, if they were to come, to fall. He noticed one of her frequent glances and quietly said, "You don't have to stay here; you can go. We'll be fine."

 

She jutted out her chin. "I'm staying."

 

And her words warmed the cold shard of fear that had formed from the doctor's words. Because with Dara by his side, he felt a little more prepared to face whatever fate would throw his way. He squeezed her hand again.

 

"Hyung? Noona?"

 

The small voice belongs to Deukkie. And then a second later a slight figure has charged from behind a curtain separating one of the many cubicles, and was gripping Jiyong's lower body tightly. Seungri's just behind him, his cane clanking against the floor, until his outstretched arm finds Jiyong, and he too was gripping his brother hard. Dara stepped to the side, having released Jiyong's hand as soon as his brother had charged into his arms. She gave them a moment.

 

"Mom's in a bad way, hyung," Seungri mumbled, his words muffled by Jiyong's shirt. "We tried talking to her, but she wouldn't answer. S-she wouldn't -"

 

"Shhh," Jiyong soothed. "Mom will be okay. She's tough, she'll be fine."

 

Seungri pulled away suddenly, regarding Jiyong incredulously. "You can't know that. Have you seen her?"

 

"No –"

 

"Then you don't know." He paused. "Where have you been? We've been calling your phone –"

 

"I lost it."

 

Seungri frowned and leaned in towards Jiyong. He froze. Deukkie unwinded his arms from his eldest brother, also, pulling back.

 

"Why do you smell of alcohol?" Seungri asked, his voice a dull monotone, his expression reproachful. He suddenly looked much older; he looked defeated, because his older brother, his rock, has fallen to drink just as his mother had.

 

"I…" Jiyong began, "I -"

 

"I spilt beer on him," Dara interrupted. "He was at my house, I had a drink, accidently knocked it off the table, and it went all over his shirt." She tilted her head to the side, looking at Jiyong. "Right?"

 

He simply nodded.

 

Deukkie's lips quirk upwards, accepting the reason. Seungri, on the other hand, remained apprehensive. He didn't believe the lame excuse, because he wasn't naïve and he can easily discern the smell of spirits on Jiyong's breath. He'd been told bull.

 

"Are you guys okay?" Jiyong asked. He tilted Deukkie's pale face to the side, examining the stitches that criss-cross along a lengthy cut stretching halfway across his forehead. Bruises had begun to appear, black and blue, along his arms. Seungri's injuries were much the sane, save that of a long gash that would not scar, as Deukkie's would.

 

Guilt once again stabbed at Jiyong as he sees the dark circles under their eyes, and how weary and frightened they both appear. They'd been here, alone, and it had been all his fault. If he'd just been home last night then maybe…

 

"Where's Dami?" Jiyong asked, panicked, remembering what the doctor had said. "I was told she had a concussion –"

 

"Yeah," Seungri interrupted. "They'd taken her for an x-ray to make sure. She's fine though. Just really knocked about." He paused, and then continued in a quiet voice, "The car hit her and Mom's side of the car. Me and Deukkie weren't as badly injured."

 

Tears began to pool in Deukkie's eyes, and not for the first time since the accident. He tried to keep them at bay, but some slipped down anyway. Dara noticed them, and slung her arm around his shoulders, bringing him closer. He accepted the comfort straight away, burying his tear stained cheeks into her jacket. She rubbed his back soothingly.

 

"I need to see Dami," Jiyong declared.

 

Seungri nodded. "She's in the cubicle across from ours. The doctors were just checking on her again."

 

Deukkie lead the way, his hand having slipped into Jiyong's. Dara remained close by, her arm frequently brushing against his, for which Jiyong was thankful. It lets him know that she's here for him – here for them. And she'll never understand how much that meant to him.

 

They pulled back the curtain, only to see a small, pale, and frail looking girl look at them through bleary eyes. She perked up, however, when she saw the taller figures of Dara and Jiyong, cracking a smile. She's tired, incredibly so, but has been told she needed to stay awake just a little longer. And also, she wanted to know how her mommy is doing.

 

She held out her arms, in which Jiyong instantly responded to, rushing to her side, and gently cradling her slight form to his chest.

 

His guilt was so great now that it threatened to overrule him, sending him to his knees, forcing the tears to fall down his cheeks. He wanted to just go off into a corner and never come out. But he can't, because they need him, and although he believed he did not deserve them right at this moment, he can't be so selfish.

 

"How you doing, Dami?" Dara asked, perching on the other side of the hospital bed. Dami's arms unwinded from Jiyong, only to circle around Dara. She the girl's brown curls, her heart heavy with sorrow and sympathy. They don't deserve this, Dara thought. Nobody does. Her eyes cast over towards Jiyong; his face was drawn, cast in the impassive mask. But she can still discern the guilt and remorse hovering in his eyes in the form of tears. This will destroy him, she realized, and he'll blame himself for all this mess.

 

"I'm thirsty," Dami declared, pulling away from Dara. "Can I have some juice?"

 

"Sure," Jiyong responded, forcing a smile.

 

"I'll get it," Dara volunteered. "I'll get us all something."

 

She was quick to leave, believing that they needed time alone as a family, until she heard Jiyong's quick utterance, excusing himself to follow her.

 

"I'm fine getting –"

 

"Needed to get out," Jiyong interrupted, shaking his head. He ran a hand across his face. And when he looked at her again, the mask was gone, revealing a vulnerability that called Dara's arms to reach out to him. She pulled him into a hug. Neither knew how long they stood there for, holding each other, trying to keep each other together. Eventually, they released each other. There were tear tracks on Jiyong's cheeks, in which he wiped away imminently.

 

They went to the drinks machine in silence, grabbing a couple of chocolate bars on the way, and headed back to Dami's cubicle.

 

 

Huddled in a blanket, sitting side by side with her brother, his head on her shoulder, Naomi contemplates where they'll be staying tonight.

 

Her eyes reluctantly cast over towards their home: all black and crumbling. Part of the roof had collapsed where the flames had surged upwards, taking out most of the first floor. Smoke still billows out from the windows, and the firemen are still sifting through the house, ensuring that no rogue flames would flourish anytime soon.

 

They'd brought the body out half an hour ago. Naomi had tried to shield her brother from the sight, bringing his head close to her body. But he'd seen it all the same. When the ambulance crew had rushed forward, with an ambulance trolley in hand, a black bag in the other, he'd known. And he'd cried.

 

She's immensely glad that Jake had not been inside, too. He'd been driven home from school by a child-minder, only to come home and see his mom incapacitated on the settee, a bottle in her hand, and another two beside her head. So he'd gone out again, just round the corner, to a friend's house. He'd then returned home, two hours later, only to see the fire billowing inside the window, and then the glass shattered, and the flames burst free. A few neighbors had already filtered into the street, having called for an ambulance.

 

Naomi can't suppress the resentment she feels towards her mother, because she would have had a chance, surely, if she'd just been sober and conscious. She would have gotten out. But she didn't, because she refused to stop the drink; refused to acknowledge that she had a problem and she needed help. She still loved her mother though. The pain of loss is still fresh, and is still producing the few traitorous tears that slip down her cheeks.

 

"Miss?"

 

Slowly, Naomi moves her head upwards, only to come face to face with a police officer. "Is there anyone we can call for you? Is there anywhere you could stay with tonight? Friends? Family?"

 

She casts her mind through those she knows. She has no other family, save her Dad and Jake. And then friends? She's not that social; too busy working or looking after the home. But there is…

 

"I can call them," Naomi says. "I know where we can stay."

 

 

 

 

It had been over four hours of waiting. Both Deukkie and Seungri have fallen asleep, having been awake all night, and were splayed across one of the waiting room chairs. Dami's well on her way, wanting to remain conscious, but unable to keep her heavily lidded eyes open much longer. Dara wass beside Jiyong, her hand in his, her thumb brushing continuously across his knuckles.

 

The hustle and bustle of hospital life buzzed around them; the murmured conversations, the rowdy complaints from dissatisfied patients, the incessant ringing of the phone, and the whoosh of doors being opened and closed.

 

Nerves still twisted inside Jiyong's stomach like a snake, occasionally biting, causing twinges of guilt. His mom was in surgery now, having been finally stabilized. Her chances were looking better, for sure, but there's still major surgery to be undergone, and brain damage could not yet be ruled out. There were just too many ifs and buts; too much uncertainty. And he can't do anything about it, damn it. He has never felt so bloody useless.

 

"Everything's going to be okay," Dara suddenly uttered.

 

He casted a sideward glance at her. "Maybe." He sighed. "Maybe not."

 

"This isn't your fault, you know," she stated. "You can't blame yourself for this."

 

"Never said I did."

 

"No," she agreed, "but you're thinking it."

 

He smiled. "Perhaps." The smile slipped from his face. "But it is, really. I wasn't here for them, and I should have been. I should have been at home, not out, getting pissed."

 

"You weren't to know they'd get into a crash," Dara reasoned. "You couldn't have prevented it; it was an accident. The driver skidded on some ice, lost control, and crashed into the car, remember? The police told you that. You're not to blame for this. No one is."

 

His grip tightened on Dara's hand. "But I should have been there. I should have been here last night with them."

 

"But you're here now, aren't you? You've got to stop being so hard on yourself all the time. Accept that you're human, and that we all make mistakes."

 

Jiyong didn't answer this time, but simply nodded. But I've made so many mistakes, he thought. And you, Dara, are one my biggest.

 

"I must sound like some hypocrite," he suddenly said.

 

Dara frowned, turning towards him. "How?"

 

"Before I even knew how the crash happened, I blamed Mom. I thought she'd been drinking."

 

"She's an alcoholic, and has only recently quit. You saw the divorce papers at home, which would surely have been something that would have tested her; she may have turned to drink."

 

"But she didn't," Jiyong muttered.

 

"No, she didn't," Dara agreed. "And that has to be something to be thankful for, right? She can quit; she has quit."

 

He nodded, his reply laconic: "Yeah."

 

"Kwon Jiyong?" Dr. Kim stood just off to the side, having descended the stairs from the upper floor to where Jiyong’s mother was being operated on.

 

"Yes?" Jiyong responded, standing up immediately, making his way over towards him, with Dara in tow, their hands still joined. "Is she…"

 

Dr. Reed's lips twitched upwards, the first smile they've seen him give. "Surgery went well. We've managed to repair the damaged arteries, stopping the bleeding. She's still on the ventilator, so we can't be sure as to whether she sustained any brain damage. We'll be taking her off soon, so we'll see the full extent of her injuries."

 

Jiyong nodded, and relief, albeit partial, flooded through him. "Thank you."

 

 

 

 

Ace arrives half an hour later. He comes harrying towards them, having been directed by a policeman, and waits barely a second, when he stands before them, before pulling Naomi into a long, protracted hug.

 

"Are you both okay?" Ace asks, his arms still loosely around her.

 

She'd been sketchy with the details on the phone, simply telling him that there had been a fire and she and her brother needed somewhere to stay and she didn't know who else to call.

 

"We're fine," Naomi reports. "We weren't in the house when the fire started." She takes a deep breath. "But mom..." She cuts off, unable to finish her sentence. Ace's latched on to what she was trying to say, however, and slings his arm around her shoulders, while his other hand rests on Jake's shoulder. He steers them towards his car.

 

"Let's get you all to mine," he says, "away from here."

 

 

 

 

"You can see her now," Dr. Kiminformed. "She's awake."

 

Dara closed her eyes for a moment, relief fleetingly paralyzing her.

 

Jiyong and his siblings stumbled from their seats, all rushing towards the doctor as one body. But he held up his hand, halting them, and instructed, "Two people at most. She really needs her rest." And then, stepping to the side, he waved Jiyong over. He whispered, "You're mom's hooked up to a couple of cables and tubes. She doesn't want the younger kids to see her like that; she just wants you and Seungri to go."

 

Jiyong nodded mutely and casted a guilty glance at his younger siblings, who both looked excited to see their mom. "Thank you," he said, voice horse, "so much."

 

Dr. Reed clapped Jiyong on the back. "We haven't detected any brain damage. Everything appears normal."

 

Hope arose in Jiyong, almost daring him to believe that this nightmare could be put behind them, and soon. "Will she be okay?"

 

The doctor nodded. "She's recovering well. It looks promising."

 

 

They arrive at Ace's flat a little past twelve o'clock. Naomi cradles Jake to her chest, both finding solace in each other's close proximity.

 

He turns the key in the door, searching for the light, which flicks on, revealing a room scant of all belongings, having all been packaged away inside cardboard boxes that litter the corners of the room. The walls are painted white, the floor covered in a cream carpet, concealed partially by a dark, dishevelled rug. The only furniture is an overstuffed settee set in the middle, a decrepit chair not far away from that.

 

Ace takes a step inside. Naomi, however, doesn't. "Have you just moved in?" she asks, her voice a little higher than usual.

 

He shakes his head. "I was going to tell you –"

 

"Are you just moving into another apartment?"

 

"No."

 

"Town?"

 

He doesn't answer.

 

"Are you moving city?" she asks.

 

No answer.

 

"STATE?"

 

He turns round, fixing her with the saddest and most sorrowful expression she's ever seen. But it doesn't calm her; it riles her.

 

"I'm moving to ia.I'm going to stay with my sister for a little while before I get a place of my own over there," he explains.

 

"When?" Naomi asks, her hold on her brother tightening.

 

Ace sighs, his eyes casting downwards to the exhausted figure of Jake. "Will you come inside first? And then we can talk. Your brother needs to get some rest."

 

She looks downwards, and notes her brother's pasty complexion. He lets out a loud yawn, leaning against Naomi for support.

 

"Okay," she agrees tersely, gently tugging her brother inside with her.

 

Ace rummages through a box, retrieving a tee shirt and shorts, and hands them to Naomi. "He can wear these if he likes. You can both sleep in my room. I'll take the couch," he reports.

 

Naomi nods, in no mood to say thanks, and guides her brother to the room. She waits for him to change, and when he has, tucks him into the bed, kissing his forehead and assuring him they'll both get through this. Because they had to, right?

 

Softly closing the door behind her, she turns to Ace. "When exactly were you going to tell me about you moving?" she whispers.

 

His eyes flit down to the ground. He rubs the back of his neck. "Soon. I was going to tell you soon."

 

Naomi takes several steps forward until she's in front of him. Her lips are pursed, her arms crossed. She's struggling under the upwelling of emotions that have her wanting to cry, to scream, and to just fall to her knees, giving in to them all.

 

He flicks on a small lamp standing erect on one of the boxes, and turns off the main overhead lights. They now stand submerged in partial darkness, the only light coming from the dim bulb and the full moon that casts a faint glow through a window that overlooks the street.

 

"What about your job?" Naomi asks. "What about you friends?"

 

"I gave my notice in two weeks ago," he says, and shrugs. "And I don't have many friends."

 

"But…" Naomi begins, struggling to order her thoughts into some coherent sequence. She wants to say 'What about ME?', but knows that she doesn't have the right. Especially since she's treated him wrong; lied to him and ignored him. "You can't leave," she says weakly. Her shoulders slump.

 

He takes a step towards her, his eyes glazed with tears. "I need a fresh start, and I can't do it here. There's nothing for me here."

 

Naomi runs her hands through her hair in frustration. She turns round sharply, away from Ace, not wanting him to see her agonized expression. Everything is just going to , and there's nothing she can do to prevent it. She sees her life much like a train going at a rickety tempo; it has just traversed off the rails, and the remnants of the wreckage seem unsalvageable.

 

 

Jiyong casted a swift glance at the dozing passengers in the back of Dara's car. Seungri's leaning against the window, while Dami, squished in the middle between her two elder brothers, rested against him. Deukkie's head was angled towards the window, also, his mouth partially open. Jiyong's lips twitched upwards.

 

And following their example, he rested his head against the window, as the first waves of lethargy began to sweep through him. This was only intensified by the darkening sky, in which grey clouds have begun to manifest, prophesizing rain. His eyes flitted to the digital clock above the CD player, which reads: 19:30.

 

They'd left his Mom to rest in the ward, and would be visiting her tomorrow morning. She'd looked pale, with cuts sporadically plastered across her arms and face. But overall, she'd seemed fine – or as fine as one could be after undergoing intensive surgery – and had even imparted some advice to him.

 

She'd reached for his hand, and he'd taken it. "You need to do what you want," she'd whispered. "In case anything happens…to me, I need to tell you-"

 

"Don't talk like that," he'd soothed, taking her hand in both of his. "You're going to be fine."

 

She'd forced a smile. "I was going to tell you this before, anyway. It's just more important now." Her eyes had fluttered shut for a moment, before she'd said, "I'm so proud of you for taking care of this family. I've been useless -"

 

"You weren't to bla-"

 

"Let me finish. You've been there for them, when I haven't. You've given up a lot." She'd shaken her head. "Don't. Not anymore. You get one life, so don't waste it. I don't want you having any regrets."

 

Jiyong had frowned, a little confused as to what she was specifically referring to. He'd wondered whether her speech was the result of the drugs they'd given her for the pain.

 

"Seungri's told me about Dara," she'd continued. "He told me how close you were, and how you aren't anymore." She'd gripped his hand a little tighter. "I don't want that to be because of me. I want you to have a life." She'd forced her eyes open then, and said more forcefully, "Things will be better from now on. You won't have so much responsibility. I'll be the parent again, okay?"

 

He'd left soon after, her having finally succumbed to a medicated sleep. But her words had stayed with him: 'You get one life, so don't waste it… don't want you having any regrets.'

 

He casted a surreptitious glance at Dara, whose attention was focused intently on the roads. She bit her lip, and his heart beats a little quicker.

 

 

"I won't leave yet. I can still stay a few more days," Ace tells Naomi, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'll stay as long as you need me to."

 

She grins sardonically, her back still to him.

 

"I thought you were going to go to culinary college around here," she says. "You had it all planned out."

 

He sighs, and removes his warm, comforting hands from her shoulders. She can just imagine him doing that habitual rubbing of his neck; a nervous action he always performed when he felt uncomfortable. "I was," he says. And then, "You should try and get some sleep. A lot's happened tonight, and I'm not helping by –"

 

"I'm fine," she insists, raising her voice. She faces him now, her expression hard, her lips fixed into a firm line. "What made you change your mind? You were still planning on staying around here after you found out about your sister. So why-"

 

"Don't, Naomi."

 

"But why?" Her words are tinged with hostility. She takes a step towards him, their noses mere inches apart.

 

"It's too hard," he declares, his voice cracking with strain. His face is etched with turmoil, his dark eyes sincere. "I thought I'd just stop," he whispers. "I thought I'd move on, but…"

 

"What are you on about?"

 

"You," he tells her softly. "I-I find it hard to be around you." His hand reaches out to her before he knows what he's doing, and caresses her arm. She moves into his touch, giving into him, just for a moment. "And yet I want to be with you all the time. I want to give you the life you deserve. I want you to love me back." His arms drop to his sides. She misses his warmth, but is too transfixed by the emotion congealing in his eyes to feel too stung by it. "But you don't feel the same way," he declares, and drops his gaze. "So I need to move on, and I can't do that by staying around here. I need a new start in life."

 

"But I need you," she whispers, her voice cracking. They're close, so much so that a slight movement forward of her hand would bring her into contact with him.

 

Ace's eyes are fixed on the floor when he says, "And I need you to understand why-"

 

He doesn't have a chance to finish his sentence as Naomi roughly cups his face in her hands. She kisses him, and he starts, having not expected her lips to be on his. He eventually responds, kissing her passionately. She winds her arms around his neck, bringing him even closer. And then after several moments, Naomi reluctantly pulls away, goes on her tiptoes, and brings close to his ear. She whispers, "I love you. I always did."

 

 

---

 

 

 

All the kind words, THANK YOU. :-)