Home and the Collapse

The flight attendant’s announcement echoed softly through the cabin, informing the passengers that the plane would soon land smoothly in the capital city.

Yet in one of the window seats, Ailine showed absolutely no sign of preparing to move.

She sat close to Owen.

Too close, in fact.

Their arms brushed. Their shoulders pressed together. And the most striking thing of all—Ailine had no intention of creating any distance between them.

Owen glanced sideways.

“…Ailine.”

“Hm?” she responded lightly, her gaze still fixed forward.

“We’ve arrived.”

“I know.”

“Could you… move a little?”

Ailine turned her head slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Why?”

“We’re no longer in a disaster tent. People can see us.”

“So?”

Owen fell silent. For some reason, that argument—simple as it was—had no logical counter.

Instead of backing off, Ailine grew bolder. She leaned her head against Owen’s shoulder, clearly taking advantage of the fact that most passengers were still busy gathering their belongings.

“Owen,” she said softly.

“What now?”

“I’m tired.”

“We’ve been sitting for almost three hours. You slept.”

“That was half-awake sleep,” she protested. “Besides… this is the shoulder of my future.”

Owen choked.

“Ailine.”

“Hehe.”

She smiled faintly, satisfied when she noticed the faint redness creeping up his ears. After the disaster, after the chaos and all the emotions laid bare, Ailine had discovered a new source of entertainment—teasing Owen relentlessly.

Owen let out a long breath, surrendering. His hand lifted slightly, as if he were about to push her away—yet in the end, he only placed it back on his own lap.

“Don’t overdo it,” he muttered.

“Too late,” Ailine replied casually. “I’m already very comfortable.”

When the plane finally came to a complete stop and the passengers began to stand, Ailine still didn’t move. Even when Owen stood up, she continued gripping the sleeve of his jacket.

“Ailine,” he said again, firmer this time. “We have to get off.”

“Wait until it’s quieter. Let everyone else leave the plane first.”

“…Don’t be like this.”

“If I stand up, you’re not allowed to walk ahead of me.”

“…Why?”

“I’m afraid you’ll suddenly disappear again.”

That sentence silenced Owen completely.

This time, he didn’t respond with a protest or sarcasm. He simply turned his head and looked at Ailine longer than usual.

“I won’t leave,” he finally said. “At least… not without saying goodbye.”

That was enough.

Ailine beamed and finally stood, still sticking close to Owen’s side like a child afraid of getting lost in a crowd.

Some passengers glanced at them. A few whispered. Others smiled knowingly. Ailine didn’t care. Owen pretended not to notice.

“Then why are you still clinging like this?” Owen asked quietly. “Can you let go now?”

Ailine looked up, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Why? Are you planning to run away?”

“I never said that.”

“Then it’s safe,” she replied instantly, moving even closer.

Owen went quiet again. Ailine had always been stubborn—once she decided something, persuasion rarely worked.

“I know you’re worried because I’m an artist,” she said softly. “Once we reach the exit, I’ll let go. Just hold on a little longer, okay?”

Owen could only sigh again—for what felt like the hundredth time. The people around them weren’t paying much attention—Ailine was wearing a mask, a cap, and an oversized hoodie—but even so, the distance between them was far too… noticeable. Especially considering that at least a few people there were bound to recognize her as a superstar.

“Do you realize,” Owen murmured, “that from another perspective, this looks like I’m the one forcing you?”

Ailine chuckled. “Relax. If anyone asks, I’ll say I forced you.”

“You’re unbelievable—”

“Besides,” Ailine cut in, her voice softening, “I just brought back someone who was almost lost. How could I let go so easily?”

Owen fell silent.

Without realizing it, his steps slowed.

After a few seconds, he spoke quietly. “We’ll see each other often again.”

“Hm?” Ailine looked up. “Is that a promise?”

Owen turned to meet her gaze, her eyes sparkling behind the mask. He nodded slowly. “A promise.”

Ailine smiled in satisfaction and—completely shamelessly—rested her head on his shoulder again.

Wasn’t this basically like glue already? Too attached.

The moment they passed through the arrival gate, everything changed. True to her word, Ailine finally released her grip on Owen.

“Ai-line Su!”

The voice rang out loudly, filled with energy and emotion.

Ailine hadn’t even taken two steps when an elegant woman with neatly styled black hair—her mother—hurried toward her, followed closely by her father, who tried to remain composed but was clearly just as worried.

“Ailine!”

The hug came without warning. Her mother embraced her tightly—too tightly—until Ailine almost couldn’t breathe.

“M-Mom… it hurts…”

“You still dare say it hurts?!” Her mother’s voice trembled. “Do you know I almost fainted when I saw the news?! A disaster zone?! Who do you think you are?!”

Her father followed, gently patting Ailine’s head with his large, warm hand. “Thank goodness you’re home. Your mother and I were truly… deeply worried.”

Ailine smiled faintly, her eyes stinging. “I’m sorry… but I’m really okay.”

“Okay?” Her mother stepped back slightly, examining Ailine from head to toe. “You’re thinner. Your skin looks dull. Your hair—good heavens, is this hair or a broom?!”

“Mom… sanitation at the disaster site was limited.”

“No excuses!”

At first, Ailine had truly struggled—with her dull skin, hair that felt like straw, and the miserable sanitation conditions. But thankfully, she endured it all. Now, she could finally say that it was nothing she couldn’t handle.

Not long after, Layla and Emma appeared from behind.

Layla immediately crossed her arms, her sharp gaze piercing straight into Ailine.

“We need to talk. At length.”

Emma stood beside her, offering a stiff smile. “I told you this would come out eventually.”

Ailine grinned sheepishly.

Her mother then noticed something else. She turned toward the tall figure standing slightly behind Ailine—calm, neat, with a polite expression.

“And you are…?” Her mother narrowed her eyes.

“That’s Doctor Owen,” Ailine said quickly. “He was my doctor when I was sick a few months ago, Mom. He also volunteered at the disaster site—with me.”

Owen dipped his head slightly. “Good afternoon, ma’am.”

“Oh, no need for ‘ma’am,’” Ailine’s father said with a gentle smile. “Thank you for taking care of our daughter.”

“It was my duty,” Owen replied honestly.

Layla snorted softly. “Taking care of her, huh. All the way to becoming national headlines.”

Ailine instinctively grabbed Owen’s arm, as if seeking shelter.

“Layla…”

“Let go first,” Layla said flatly, pointing at Ailine’s hand. “You’re in the capital now.”

Ailine pouted, but she obeyed.

Her mother let out a long sigh, then hugged Ailine again—this time more gently. Deep down, she couldn’t help feeling suspicious. Her daughter’s clingy behavior toward Owen was… unusual. What kind of relationship did they really have?

“Let’s go home first. We’ll talk there. I don’t want to scold you at the airport.”

Ailine nodded. “Okay, Mom.”

As they began walking, Ailine’s steps suddenly slowed. Her body felt strange—like a subtle pressure had appeared out of nowhere. Her breathing shortened. Her head spun slightly. Her stomach began to ache.

She stopped.

Owen noticed immediately. “Ailine?”

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “Probably just tired.”

Layla turned, suspicious. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

But when they started walking again, Ailine unconsciously grabbed her father’s arm. This time, it was purely reflex. Her grip was stronger than before.

Owen, who had been walking behind her, moved closer. He bent slightly, lowering his voice. “If you’re not feeling well—”

“I just… want to stay close to you for a moment,” she whispered, gripping his arm instead.

“Stop joking at a time like this!”

“Hehe…”

Owen realized something then.

There was something in her tone—something that made his chest tighten.

He didn’t pull away.

Amid the crowded airport, the affectionate scolding, the lingering worry, and the forced laughter, Ailine finally came home.

But deep within her body, something was slowly collapsing.

“O-Owen… my stomach hurts so much…”

Ailine clutched her abdomen, the pain intense, twisting, as if her insides were being tightly bound by rope.

Her steps faltered. Her knees weakened.

And before anyone could fully react, Ailine collapsed forward.

Owen moved faster than anyone else.

He caught her before she hit the floor, his arms supporting her back and head.

“Ailine!” he called, panic spilling into his voice.

Her face was pale. Her eyes half-lidded.

Her mother let out a sharp cry. “We’re going to the hospital! Now!”

Owen looked down at Ailine’s face—and for the first time since returning from the disaster zone, real fear slammed into his chest.

This wasn’t ordinary exhaustion.

And he knew it.