she slapped him..!

The hospital room, awash in the amber hues of the evening sun, became a silent witness to the unfolding drama. Taehyung's voice, usually a melody of mirth, now carried a weight that filled the space with a somber air.

"It's far more serious than I had thought," he murmured, turning to Jungkook, who sat slumped in the chair beside him, his silhouette etched with lines of worry against the soft light.

Jungkook's gaze was distant, his eyes reflecting a storm of troubling thoughts, like dark waves crashing against a desolate shore. "I don't know what to do at a time like this," he confessed, his voice a low rumble of helplessness. "You know, she was fine the moment before I asked about her name. And then, suddenly, she got hyped up."

Taehyung leaned forward, the furrow between his brows deepening as he grappled with the thought he hesitated to voice. "You mean... there is something up?" The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. He had already been briefed by Jimin about the GLANCE 'A' brand necklace—a symbol of opulence that adorned her neck.

If she truly was the owner of such a lavish piece, it spoke of a lineage wrapped in wealth. A girl born into such affluence would never stoop to feigning amnesia... or would she? The question lingered, a puzzle that beckoned with its complexity.

Jungkook's words, though speculative, were heavy with the gravity of his concern. "I'm not sure," he admitted, his voice a low thrum of unease. "You know there are some obsessed fans who know no boundaries. And I can't shake the feeling that she might be faking amnesia to get close to us, or to learn about my girlfriend!" The idea seemed far-fetched, yet it clung to him, a persistent shadow in the corners of his mind.

Taehyung's sigh was a tangible release of tension, a sound that seemed to echo the weight of the unknown. "Well, in this matter, we can only rely on doctors,"

he concluded, his voice tinged with a resignation that mirrored the cloud of uncertainty that enveloped them. The room seemed to absorb his words, the sterile air holding the silence that followed.

The gentle rap on the door cut through the tension like a knife, redirecting Taehyung and Jungkook focus from their heavy dialogue. The door creaked open, revealing Dr. Lee, his features usually a mask of composure, now twisted with lines of worry.

Jungkook, his instincts honed to the urgency of the moment, leapt to his feet. "Dr. Lee, how is she now?" His voice, usually so full of life, now carried a tremor of concern, a stark contrast to the doctor's grave mien.

Dr. Lee hesitated, his hand gripping a glass of water—a brief sanctuary from the relentless tide of his responsibilities. "It's bad," he admitted, his voice a controlled calm in the storm of distressing developments.

"She woke up three times in the past half-hour. But each time, as soon as she became conscious, she asked about herself, and not finding the answers, she descended into panic, each episode culminating in a faint. These repeated panic attacks... they're detrimental to her health."

Taehyung's response was a soft murmur, his words a delicate whisper that carried the weight of a heavy truth. "That means she really has memory loss!" The words floated in the room, their implications sinking into the hearts of all present. The seed of doubt that had taken root in their minds now blossomed into guilt, the petals of regret unfurling for having questioned her condition.

Dr. Lee, his back to the turmoil of their inner conflicts, continued with a clinical detachment, "I've called a psychiatrist, who happens to be my wife, so you all don't need to worry about her identity being disclosed." His words were a balm, promising confidentiality and care.

---

As the afternoon sun embarked on its slow descent, its rays spilled through the hospital windows, bathing the room in a warm, golden light. Jungkook and Taehyung sat engulfed in a silence heavy with concern, the hours stretching before them like an endless road as they awaited news. The monotony of their vigil was shattered by the sudden trill of Taehyung's phone, piercing the quietude like a siren's call.

Jimin's voice, usually so full of cheer, now carried a tremor of worry. "How is she now? Taehyun's heard about her going into a coma; so he's planning to come back as soon as he can," he relayed, his words tumbling out in a rush of anxiety and urgency.

Taehyung nodded to the empty air, a reflex born of countless conversations. "We're still waiting for any updates. It's… it's a lot to take in," he responded, his voice a soft echo of the turmoil within. His gaze, lost and searching, drifted to the closed door of the hospital room, as if willing it to open and reveal the answers they so desperately sought.

The end of the call with Jimin was punctuated by the immediate buzz of another incoming call, this time from Mr. Kang, their PR manager. "The situation has calmed down since we clarified that Jungkook's girlfriend isn't a K-pop idol. The hate comments have decreased significantly," Mr. Kang reported, his voice a soothing balm of relief amidst the chaos.

Before the news could fully sink in, a sharp knock at the door sliced through the remnants of their conversation. The door swung open, and Dr. Lee entered, his face a canvas of worry, with Mrs. Lee, the psychiatrist, stepped in with a quiet grace that matched her husband's concern.

Jungkook sprang to his feet, his movements sharp with a sense of urgency that cut through the stillness of the room. "Dr. Lee, how is she?" The question leaped from his lips, his voice a clear reflection of the concern that gripped him, his eyes scanning the doctor's face for a glimmer of hope.

Dr. Lee's pause was a silent prelude to the gravity of his words. The lines etched into his face seemed to deepen, a testament to the weight of his next statement. "She's stable, for now," he said slowly, carefully choosing his words. "But there's something… unusual. She's asking to see you, Jungkook. Just you." The implication of his words hung in the air, heavy and charged with an unspoken significance.

A puzzled frown creased Taehyung's brow, his confusion etching lines of concern across his forehead. "But she doesn't remember anything, right? Why would she ask for Jungkook specifically?" His voice was tinged with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

Mrs. Lee's explanation came with a note of earnestness. "That's precisely why it's unusual. I was there, trying to soothe her, and she was beginning to calm down. But then, I stepped out to the washroom. When I returned, she was asking for you, Jungkook. She was so serious about it," she recounted, her eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation.

She then turned to Jungkook, her gaze steady and professional. "Mr. Jungkook, she requested to meet you alone. I will be right outside the ward, though. If anything happens, just call for me," Mrs. Lee instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Jungkook offered a solemn nod, his eyes briefly meeting Taehyung's before they all proceeded to meet the Army girl, each step heavy with the weight of the unknown.

---

Jungkook paused at the threshold, his eyes taking in the poignant tableau before him. The army girl sat on her bed, her lips moving in a silent soliloquy, a private world of thoughts spilling silently into the sterile air. As she noticed Jungkook, her murmurs ceased, and her gaze rose to meet his—a thorough, searching look that seemed to delve into the depths of his soul.

Her hair, a disheveled cascade that brushed her shoulders, framed a face pale and drawn, the ghost of recent tears still haunting her red-rimmed eyes. The hospital gown, several sizes too large, draped over her like a shroud, accentuating her frailty in its billowing folds.

Her right hand, encased in plaster, lay motionless on her lap, a stark white contrast against the muted colors of the hospital sheets. It was a silent testament to the fragility of her current state, a vulnerability laid bare in the unforgiving light of the hospital room.

With each tentative step towards her, Jungkook felt the weight of the moment settle upon him. He pulled a chair up beside her bed, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts as he searched for the right words to bridge the gap between them.

Breaking the heavy silence, she spoke without looking up, her voice a fragile whisper. "You're Jeon Jungkook. Right?" Her gaze remained anchored to an unseen point on the floor, as if the answer lay hidden in its sterile expanse.

Jungkook's reply was threaded with caution, a soft echo of her own tone. "Y-Yes," he affirmed, his voice barely rising above a whisper, as if afraid to shatter the delicate moment.

Her eyes rose to meet his, glistening pools reflecting a turmoil of emotions, the brink of tears threatening to spill over. "And you don't know me. Right???" she asked, her voice quivering with the weight of unshed tears.

His nod came slowly, a gesture tinged with a hint of reluctance. As she closed her eyes, a solitary tear escaped, carving a glistening trail down her cheek. "Then answer me…" she implored, her voice gaining strength as she opened her eyes to fix him with a piercing stare.

"When I don't remember anything—my name, my family, my friends… anything. But you." Her eyes, intense and searching, held him captive. "How do I remember your name?"

Witnessing her in such a vulnerable state, Jungkook's heart clenched with empathy. In his haste to offer some explanation, he blurted out, "Look, it's because... it's because I'm your idol."

Her reaction was immediate, a mix of confusion and rising anger. "Huh???" she exclaimed, caught off guard. A hollow laugh escaped her, tinged with disbelief, as she challenged him through a smile that failed to mask the storm brewing in her red eyes. "What?" she pressed, the word sharp, a clear sign of her escalating frustration.

Jungkook's realization of his blunder hit him like a wave. In the entire history of fandom, never had an idol needed to introduce himself to a fan. How could he expect a girl, who had lost all memory, to understand such a concept? Desperate to rectify his mistake, he stumbled over his words.

"No... umm... what I mean is... I mean you're my fan." The words tumbled out, a repetition of his earlier error. He closed his eyes, scolding himself, a string of curses whispered under his breath.

But before he could attempt to clarify, he felt a sharp sting on his right cheek, his head snapping to the side with the force of the impact. His eyes flew open, wide with shock, as the realization dawned on him—she had just slapped him!