The hospital hallway was unusually loud.
Raised voices.
Footsteps.
A familiar tone the boy hadn't heard in a long time—
a tone he hoped never to hear again.
He froze mid-step outside Lina's room.
His breath caught.
He recognized those voices.
His parents.
Lina's parents.
They had finally found her.
His heart dropped into his stomach.
He felt the walls closing in,
his chest tightening,
the edges of the world blurring.
A nurse tried to calm them.
"She needs rest—"
"We're her parents!" the father barked.
"We have every right to see her!"
The mother's voice trembled with false worry.
"Lina, sweetheart—where is she? Where is my daughter?"
The boy's vision darkened.
Not from anger.
From memories.
Memories of being left alone.
Of working at twelve.
Of crying himself to sleep.
Of begging for help that never came.
Of disappearing for days with Jack
and no one looking for him.
His knees weakened.
His breathing turned sharp.
"No… no— not them… not now…"
He wanted to run.
Hide.
Disappear.
But the door to Lina's room swung open—
And she stood there.
Still pale.
Still fragile.
But standing.
"Mom? Dad?" she whispered.
The mother rushed forward.
"Oh, thank God—look at you— what have you gotten yourself into? We were worried sick—"
Lina's expression hardened.
"You weren't," she said quietly.
Both parents froze.
"What?" her father demanded sharply.
"You weren't worried," Lina repeated.
"You didn't call.
You didn't check on me.
You didn't even know I fainted.
You didn't know where I lived."
She shook her head.
"You didn't come for me.
You came because someone told you where I was."
The father's jaw tightened.
"That doesn't matter. Pack your things. You're coming home."
Lina stepped back.
"I'm not."
The father's nostrils flared.
"You're a minor—"
"I'm eighteen."
"You're still under our authority," he barked.
"You will come with us NOW."
He grabbed her arm.
And that's when everything changed.
Because suddenly—
A hand seized the father's wrist.
Tight.
Unmovable.
Deadly.
Jack.
His eyes were dark.
Cold.
Unmistakably dangerous.
"Let go of her," Jack said quietly.
The father yanked his hand.
"Who the hell are—"
Jack stepped forward,
towering over him,
voice low but sharp as a blade.
"You heard me."
The father scoffed.
"You can't tell me—"
Jack leaned closer,
his expression turning lethal.
"If you touch her again," he whispered,
"I swear you won't leave this building standing."
The father paled.
"Are you threatening me—?"
"Yes," Jack replied simply.
"With pleasure."
Lina blinked in shock—
but not fear.
Something inside her fluttered.
The mother stepped between them.
"Stop this! Lina, come with us—now!"
"No," Lina said, louder this time.
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
The boy finally found his voice—
weak, trembling, but real.
"She's staying," he whispered.
Everyone turned toward him.
His parents stared—
surprised, offended.
"You," his mother said sharply,
"don't get to speak in this."
The boy flinched.
Old wounds ripped open instantly.
His breathing hitched.
But before panic could swallow him—
Jack stepped in front of him.
Completely shielding him from their view.
"Talk to him again like that," Jack said,
"and you'll deal with me."
The father raised a finger.
"Listen here, boy—"
Jack grabbed his collar.
"No," he growled,
"you listen."
The hallway went silent.
Jack's voice dropped into a low, deadly tone:
"Lina is not going with you.
She is with us.
With me."
His eyes darkened further.
"And if you ever try to drag her away again—
I'll make sure you regret it."
The parents stood frozen.
Terrified.
Lina stepped closer to Jack,
her hand brushing his arm gently.
"Jack," she whispered softly.
He didn't look at her.
His eyes stayed on her parents.
"Leave," he ordered.
They hesitated.
Sally appeared behind them, arms crossed.
"I'd listen to him," she said coldly.
"He's being merciful today."
That did it.
The parents backed away slowly.
"This isn't over," the father hissed.
Jack smirked.
"It is," he said,
"for you."
The parents turned and stormed down the hallway.
Silence fell.
Jack finally took a breath and looked at Lina.
"Are you okay?" he asked, voice soft—
softer than anyone ever he
The moment Lina's parents turned the corner and disappeared down the hallway,
the silence in the hospital snapped like a thin thread.
The boy stood frozen,
chest rising and falling too fast,
hands trembling.
Something inside him cracked.
Then he ran after them.
"Wait!"
His voice echoed through the corridor.
His parents stopped, irritated.
The boy's steps were unsteady,
like he was carrying years of weight on his shoulders.
When he reached them,
he didn't look angry.
He looked broken.
"Why now?" he whispered.
"Why come now?"
His mother crossed her arms.
"We came for your sister—"
"No," he snapped, voice shaking.
"You came because someone told you.
You didn't come for me.
You never come for me."
His father scoffed.
"Don't start this nonsense—"
"Nonsense?"
The boy's laugh was sharp and painful.
"You think this is nonsense?"
His breath faltered.
Tears spilled down his cheeks before he could stop them.
"If you didn't want me…"
His voice cracked open.
"…why did you have me?"
The parents stiffened.
He took another shaky step forward, voice rising.
"Why did you bring me to this world if you were never going to love me?
Why did you leave me to work at twelve?
Why did you never ask where I was when I disappeared with Jack?
Why didn't you look for me?"
His father's jaw tightened.
"That was a difficult time—"
"A difficult time?" the boy shouted.
"I was a child!
I needed you!
And you left me alone!
You didn't care where I slept, what I ate—
you didn't even care if I lived or died!"
His mother's eyes narrowed defensively.
"You were fine—"
"I WASN'T!" he screamed.
His voice broke so violently that even the walls seemed to flinch.
Lina, Jack, and Sally had stepped out into the hallway,
watching from a distance.
Lina covered her mouth, tears pooling in her eyes.
Sally's face tightened with anger toward the parents.
And Jack—
For once in his life,
he looked devastated.
He watched the boy—not with hatred—
but with something deep, sad, and painfully understanding.
The boy's voice dropped to a whisper.
"I was your son."
A tear rolled down his cheek.
"And you made me feel like nothing."
His parents looked uncomfortable—
not remorseful,
not apologetic—
just uncomfortable.
His father exhaled impatiently.
"We don't have time for this emotional drama."
The boy stared at him.
Then something inside him shattered completely.
"…Right," he whispered.
"That's all I ever was to you.
Drama."
His parents turned to leave.
He didn't stop them.
He just whispered to their backs:
"I hope one day you understand what you did to me."
The hallway fell silent again.
His legs gave out.
He slid to the floor, hands shaking uncontrollably.
---
Lina rushed forward, kneeling beside him.
"Hey… hey, look at me," she whispered through tears.
"I'm here. I'm here for you."
Sally placed a hand on his back, steady and warm.
"You're not alone," she said softly.
And Jack—
Jack knelt down too.
Not close.
Not touching.
But beside him.
His voice was low, heavy with a kind of pain he never showed.
"They were wrong," Jack said quietly.
"You were never nothing."
The boy looked up at him through blurred vision.
Jack swallowed hard.
"You matter," he said.
"More than you know."
Lina held her brother's hand tightly.
Sally kept her palm on his back.
Jack stayed on the floor beside him,
shoulder to shoulder,
not touching—
but present.
For the first time in his life…
The boy wasn't abandoned after breaking.
He was held—
in three different ways—
by three people who actually cared.
ard from him.
Lina nodded.
And without thinking,
she whispered:
"Thank you."
Jack's ears turned red instantly.
He looked away, muttering:
"…Whatever."
But Lina smiled faintly.
Because she knew—
he didn't say "whatever."
He said "anything for you."