“Dad? I...I need you to pick me up.” Taehyung feels the air leave his lungs in a sharp exhale, his mind racing with a million thoughts. He feels like he should say something, stop her, tell her not to do this. But his throat is dry, his tongue too heavy to form words.

Aniya gives the phone to him and pushes back the covers as she tries to sit up, her movements slow and unsteady. Taehyung reaches over to help her, but she shakes off his hand, a defiant look in her eyes.