A week after the incident, the city’s sky still seemed to be tinged with gray smoke. Every time dusk fell, the collapsed walls and the deafening explosions seemed to echo in everyone’s memory. Although the hospital had gradually quieted down, the atmosphere remained shrouded in sorrow, as if the cold white walls still remembered every tragedy that had passed.

Along the long corridor, fans and colleagues quietly sent countless white bouquets. They covered the small shelves, spilling into the walkway, forming a gentle yet mournful sea of flowers. The faint scent lingered—both comforting and a reminder that people were still waiting, still hoping for a miracle.

Milk was showing positive progress. Her body was still wrapped in bandages, her legs still tightly bound, but at least she could practice standing and walking with crutches. Love barely left her side, supporting her through each slow step. To others, they looked like a couple that needed no confession or vows—just a glance was enough to say everything.

“Walk slowly, don’t push yourself…” Love reminded softly, her small but steady hand gripping Milk’s arm.

Milk forced a smile, her lips trembling slightly from the pain, but her voice remained gentle:
“It’s okay… with you here, I feel much more at ease.”

Love lowered her head slightly, lips pressed together. Those simple words made her heart race unbelievably fast. She didn’t reply, only held Milk’s arm tighter, as if silently vowing that no matter if the path ahead was an abyss or flames, she would stay by her side.

Meanwhile, Namtan remained motionless in her hospital bed. The external wounds were closing, but the deep coma lingered like a persistent dark shadow—no one could say when she might wake. Every day, Film sat by her side, eyes red from lack of sleep. She talked, softly sang, and prayed in despair.

Some nights, Film pressed her face to Namtan’s cold hand, whispering through heart-tearing pain:
“Sis… if you don’t wake up, I don’t know what to do…”

These days, Bonnie couldn’t rest either. She paced back and forth outside the hallway, sometimes staring through the glass, sometimes breaking down uncontrollably. Emi stayed close, her steady arms always ready to catch Bonnie whenever she nearly collapsed. Emi was the only lifeline keeping Bonnie from sinking completely into fear and guilt.

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Two weeks passed, and the day everyone had waited for finally came.

One morning bathed in golden sunlight, light slanted through the hospital curtains. Film had fallen asleep from exhaustion, slumped over the bedside, her hand still holding Namtan’s. Suddenly, she clearly felt a faint force—the other hand gently squeezed back.

Film jolted upright, eyes widening in disbelief. Before her, Namtan’s eyes—heavy and clouded—were slowly opening.

“Sis… Namtan!” Film’s voice cracked, trembling. Tears immediately blurred her vision.

Namtan’s cracked lips moved. Her voice was weak, faint as a breeze:
“…Film… you’re… here?”

Film burst into tears, collapsing forward, pressing Namtan’s hand to her cheek.
“Yes! I’m here… I’ve always been here… You scared me to death…”

Her crying was both shaking and bursting, carrying all the anxiety pent up over the past weeks. Out in the hallway, Bonnie heard the call and ran in, then broke down in sobs. She threw herself into Emi’s arms, crying and laughing in relief. Milk and Love stood at the door, looking at each other, their eyes brimming with overflowing joy. The weight in their hearts seemed to dissolve.

The news that “Namtan has woken up” spread like a warm breeze. On social media, thousands of messages flooded in. Fans everywhere cheered and sent encouragement. The tense atmosphere that had risen now eased, giving way to warmth and hope.

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A month later, life slowly returned.

Milk was able to manage daily activities. Though her steps were still slow and slightly limping, she no longer needed crutches. Love still followed close like a shadow, attentive to every small detail.

One day, when Milk only meant to go to the vending machine in the lobby, Love hurried after her. Milk chuckled and shook her head:
“Love, I’m just getting a drink. You don’t have to follow me like a bodyguard.”

Love replied seriously, her voice firm like a declaration:
“But you’re Milk. I can’t leave you alone.”

Milk’s cheeks flushed slightly as she turned away to hide her smile. Her once weary heart fluttered anew with each step of the girl beside her.

Namtan was also recovering, able to sit up and speak normally. Film still stayed by her side, but the shadows in her eyes hadn’t faded. Many nights, she startled awake, cold sweat on her brow from recurring nightmares—explosions, red blood, June’s manic laughter.

Once, as Film sat quietly at the bedside, Namtan took her hand, her voice gentle but resolute:
“Stop tormenting yourself, Film. I’m still here, still alive. As long as you’re holding my hand, it means you saved me.”

Film bit her lip before breaking down, burying her face in Namtan’s shoulder:
“But I’m scared… I’m scared of losing you again…”

Namtan placed a hand on her back and whispered:
“Then… never let go of me.”

Her eyes were gentle yet full of strength, like a vow that from now on, they would face the darkness together.

Bonnie had also changed a lot since the incident. She had broken down, trembling at every cruel rumor. But with Emi beside her, holding her hand through each day, Bonnie learned how to stand firm again. On set, she could smile once more; online, she faced negative comments with courage.

Emi often said:
“You are Bonnie. You don’t need to become someone else to prove your worth.”

That simple sentence gave Bonnie the strength to face the entire world.

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One late afternoon at the end of the month, the six of them finally gathered again in their familiar small room. Gentle sunlight poured in, the scent of fresh tea spreading. Gone was the tension of past days—the place felt warm like a real family.

Milk spoke first, her voice slow and thoughtful:
“We’ve been through too much. But what matters is… everyone is still here. I think… it’s time to give Film and Namtan some time to rest.”

Love nodded and added:
“I think so too. A trip to England—both for travel and therapy. Away from the public, away from the stage. Maybe the two of them will feel lighter.”

Emi put a hand on Namtan’s shoulder and smiled:
“We’ll take care of things here. You two don’t worry.”

Bonnie looked at her sister, then at Film, eyes red but gaze steady:
“Yeah… Namtan, Film, you both need to go. I want to see you truly healthy, no more nightmares.”

Film turned to Namtan. They said nothing, only nodded softly. In their eyes, silent understanding and affection passed between them. The decision was clear.

That night, Film sat by the hospital bed. Outside the window, the city was still bustling, traffic flowing endlessly. But in that room, there were only two people and a peaceful silence.

“Sis…” Film called softly, voice trembling.

“Hm?” Namtan turned, eyes tender.

“I can go anywhere… as long as you’re with me.”

Namtan smiled, brushing a hand gently over Film’s tousled hair. Her eyes shimmered with a tenderness that melted Film’s heart.

Outside, the night sky was beginning to fade. On the horizon, a new dawn was breaking. A new beginning, after all the ruin, had finally come.