Still with you

The first time Jungeun realized something was wrong, it wasn’t anything dramatic. No fainting, no sudden collapse. Just exhaustion.

A tiredness that clung to her bones, heavier than it should have been.

She brushed it off, she was young, busy, caught up in her own world. But then came the bruises. Too many, too easily.

She laughed the first time someone pointed it out. “Maybe I just sleep weird,” she had joked. But then the dizziness started followed by the nosebleeds.

And soon after the hospital visits.

The waiting room smelled like antiseptic, and the air conditioning was too cold. She sat there, swinging her legs over the edge of the chair, feeling strangely disconnected from her own body.

Her parents were tense beside her. The doctor, an older man with tired eyes, walked in with a clipboard. He didn’t look at her when he said the words.

Leukemia.

Jungeun barely remembered what came after that. Her mother’s sharp inhale. Her father’s silence. The way her hands had started to tremble, even though she hadn’t felt scared at first. It was a word.

Just a word, but that somehow, had made the world tilt, just slightly She was only sixteen.

Treatment was hell. The kind of hell that stripped her down, that made her body feel like it didn’t belong to her anymore.

The chemo, the weakness, the nights spent curled up in a hospital bed, too exhausted to even cry.

At first, she fought it. She forced herself to smile, to act like everything was fine, to make jokes even when her hands shook too much to hold a spoon properly.

But then the reality set in.

Some battles weren’t meant to be won.

When they told her it was fatal, she stared at the ceiling for a long time.

She thought she would cry. Scream. Do something. Instead, she just blinked and muttered, “Huh.”

She wasn’t sure what was worse.
Knowing she was going to die or knowing that she had to watch the people she loved realize it too.

Then came Ryu Sarang.

Jungeun expected an old man in a white coat, someone who would treat her like a tragic story, who would tiptoe around the truth like she couldn’t handle it.

Instead, she got Sarang. A girl who was her age, barely eighteen, with dimples and a smile, and absolutely no patience for sugarcoating.

At first Jungeun was envious. Not because of Sarang being a doctor, but because seeing someone her age reaching dreams like this, hit a gut in her heart, knowing she was going to be forever glued to this bed.

“Seriously?” Jungeun had stared at her the first time they met.

“You’re my doctor? You look like you should be failing a college math class right now.”

Sarang had scoffed. “First of all, I skipped three grades, so no, I wouldn’t be failing. Second, you’re lucky to have me.”

Jungeun had narrowed her eyes. “Tch, why did they assign you to me.”

Sarang had grinned. “Because I’m an angel fallen from heaven who has come to save you.”

Jungeun had blinked, stunned into silence, silently judging her.

“Your humor is ass.” Jungeun said unamused.

That was the beginning.

Sarang treated her differently. Not like a patient, not like someone to be pitied.

Just a person. A girl her age who happened to be sick. Jungeun didn’t realize how much she needed that until it was given to her.

“You’re that smart, huh?” Jungeun asked one day, picking at her food tray while Sarang scribbled notes.

Sarang hummed, not looking up. “Some might say gifted.”

Jungeun rolled her eyes. “And humble too.”

Sarang teased. “Naturally.”

It became routine. Jungeun would complain about the food, Sarang would pretend to threaten her with extra tests, and somehow, in between, Jungeun forgot she was supposed to be miserable.

“Do you ever regret it?” Jungeun had asked once. “Skipping ahead, becoming a doctor this early?”

Sarang had tilted her head, considering. “Nope. I actually like being useful. Plus, imagine wasting my genius on something dumb, like business school.”

Jungeun snorted. “God forbid.”

But some nights, when Sarang thought Jungeun was asleep, she would sit by her bedside, looking more tired than an eighteen year old should. Jungeun never called her out on it.

They were a team. A weird, mismatched team, but a team nonetheless.

Until, one day, Sarang walked into the room, her expression sorrowful. Jungeun knew where this was going.

She accidentally overheard the doctors talking about rearranging their positions while she was on her way to the bathroom.

Of course Sarang was involved, and her position was also bound to be changed.

“Let me guess,” Jungeun sighed. “You’re breaking up with me.”

Sarang snorted. “You wish.”

Jungeun continued to asked even though she already had a feeling she knew where this was going. “Then what?”

Sarang hesitated. “I’m being reassigned.”

Jungeun knew, but she still froze. She had been attached to Sarang and she felt sad she was gonna be reassigned.

“I fought for you,” Sarang said quickly. “But they need me somewhere else. It’s not up to me.”

Jungeun looked down at her hands. “So that’s it.”

Sarang sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’m still here, idiot. I’m just not your official doctor anymore.”

Jungeun didn’t respond.

Sarang sighed and reached into her pocket, pulling out a small astronaut keychain.

“For you,” she said, tossing it onto Jungeun’s lap.

Jungeun frowned. “Why an astronaut?”

Sarang shrugged. “Because you always look like you want to escape. Consider it your ticket to space.”

Jungeun curled her fingers around it. “Dork.”

Sarang hesitated. Then, softer, she said, “I’ll still visit. Every day. And I’ll bring snacks. Good ones. Not the hospital crap.”

Jungeun’s grip on the keychain tightened. “Yeah, you better.”

Sarang came closer to her and hugged her. “Obviously.”

—

Jungeun didn’t want a new doctor. She didn’t feel like she needed one.

She had Sarang. Sarang, who knew how to make her laugh, who never treated her like she was fragile, who always snuck in snacks even when she got scolded for it.

Sarang, who promised she’d visit every day even though she was assigned to a new patient. Jungeun knew it wasn’t Sarang’s fault, but that didn’t make it sting any less.

So when the door swung open, Jungeun didn’t bother looking up. She was sitting cross legged on her hospital bed, flipping through an old magazine, eyes scanning the pages without really reading.

A voice broke the silence. “Jungeun?”

It was soft but professional, carrying the kind of calm authority that made Jungeun’s skin itch.

A pause. “Dr Yoon?”

Jungeun finally lifted her gaze, and the second she did, she regretted it.

Jiyoon looked strict. Not in the way most doctors did, with their tired eyes and stiff smiles, but in a way that felt intimidating.

Her white coat was perfectly pressed, her ID badge sat neatly clipped to her pocket, and she held a clipboard like she was born to hold one.

She was put together, like she had her entire life planned out down to the second.

‘Sigh. Here we go now.’ Jungeun thought and dreaded every upcoming moment with her new doctor.

Sarang had always been easygoing, kind, relaxed, someone who didn’t make her feel like a patient all the time.

But Jiyoon? Jiyoon looked like she belonged in some high end hospital where she performed life saving surgeries, not in Jungeun’s small, quiet hospital room.

She was glowing, but not in the warm, comforting way Sarang did. She was glowing in a way that made Jungeun feel small.

Jungeun leaned back against the pillows, crossing her arms. “You look nervous.”

Jiyoon’s expression didn’t change. “I’m not.”

Mhm.

Jungeun had been stuck in a hospital for too long not to recognize a forced front.

She tilted her head, scrutinizing the new doctor in front of her. “You’re young.”

Jiyoon didn’t even blink. “So are you.”

Jungeun frowned at the immediate comeback. Usually, when she made comments like that, people scrambled to find the right response, either awkwardly laughing or quickly changing the subject.

But Jiyoon just stood there, composed, like Jungeun’s words didn’t even faze her.

Jungeun narrowed her eyes. “How old are you?”

Jiyoon exhaled quietly, setting her clipboard down. “Twenty.”

Jungeun scoffed. “Jesus. And they’re letting you work here?”

Jiyoon arched an eyebrow. “Would you rather they didn’t?”

Jungeun opened her mouth, then shut it.

Annoying.

She already didn’t like this. She didn’t like change, didn’t like unfamiliar people barging into her routine and acting like they belonged.

Jungeun had gotten used to Sarang’s easygoing energy, her casual jokes and warm smiles.

Jungeun sighed dramatically. “Alright, Dr. Yoon. Let’s get this over with.”

Jiyoon gave a small nod, stepping forward. “I read your file. You’ve been stable, but your energy levels—”

“I’m dying,” Jungeun cut in, voice flat. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it.”

Jiyoon didn’t flinch. If anything, she just held Jungeun’s gaze, steady and unwavering.

“I know.”

Jungeun frowned.

She wasn’t sure what she had expected.

Awkward stammering? Fake reassurance? A hesitant you don’t know that? That’s usually how most people reacted when she brought up the inevitable.

Jungeun tapped her fingers against her knee. “That’s it?”

Jiyoon blinked. “Should there be more?”

Jungeun wasn’t sure. Maybe.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, shaking her head. “Whatever.”

Jiyoon stepped closer, glancing down at her clipboard. “Do you want to go over your latest test results?”

“No, its the same thing again again,” Jungeun said.

Jiyoon was quiet for a second. Then, she nodded. “Suit yourself.”

Jungeun blinked. Again, That’s it?

Most doctors would insist. They’d push, tell her it was important, tell her she needed to hear it. Jiyoon just seemed she didn’t give a crap.

Jungeun wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Jiyoon pulled a pen from her pocket, jotting something down on the clipboard.

Jungeun watched her, taking in the small details. The way she held the pen. Firm, precise, like she was writing something incredibly important.

The way her eyebrows furrowed slightly in concentration. The way her coat sleeves were neatly folded just above her wrists.

Jungeun tilted her head. “So, are you one of those strict, no fun doctors?”

Jiyoon paused mid note, glancing up. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Jungeun narrowed her eyes. “You look like you’d yell at me for breathing too loudly.”

Jiyoon’s lips twitched slightly. “That depends. Do you breathe too loudly?”

Jungeun scoffed. Okay. That was almost funny.

Almost.

She stretched her legs out, tapping her fingers against her knee. “So, why’d you become a doctor?”

Jiyoon hesitated briefly before answering. “Because I wanted to.”

Jungeun rolled her eyes. “No shit. But why?”

Jiyoon tilted her head slightly, studying her. “Why does it matter?”

Jungeun frowned. “It doesn’t. I was just making conversation.”

Jiyoon’s lips twitched again. Jungeun wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but it almost looked like the beginnings of a smile.

“It’s a long story,” Jiyoon finally said.

Jungeun arched an eyebrow. “And what, you don’t think I have time?”

Jiyoon gave her a look, and for the first time since Jiyoon walked in, Jungeun actually felt interested.

Jungeun sighed. “Alright, Dr. Yoon. Guess we’ll save your backstory for another time.”

Jiyoon exhaled through her nose, shaking her head slightly as she flipped through the pages on her clipboard.

Jungeun didn’t know why, but something about that reaction made her feel oddly accomplished.

—

Ever since Jiyoon was a child, medicine was all she had ever seen. It was the books stacked in their living room, the conversations between her parents over dinner, the late nights spent listening to them discuss patients in hushed voices.

Both doctors were both deeply committed to their work. Jiyoon never questioned what her path would be. It was already decided.

And she certainly never resented the idea.

Her parents had saved lives. She wanted to do the same.

From the moment she could read, her world was anatomy charts and case studies. While others played, she memorized medical terms.

While classmates worried about high school relationships, she stressed over exams that would determine her future.

She had no distractions, she didn’t let herseld be.

By the time she entered medical school, she was unstoppable. She barely slept, barely socialized, barely let anything deter her from the goal she had promised her parents she would achieve.

As a young woman of twenty, she of course achieved her dreams. For Jiyoon it was a dream come true and she had her goals set.

She walked into the hospital, coat crisp, name embroidered neatly on the front. Doctor Yoon Jiyoon. The title suited her, it was who she was.

From then on, she had encountered countless wards. She had been shift from patient to patient, it was no different. She loved her job and she loved saving people. The only thing she was bad at really, was expressing emotions towards others.

Soon enough though, this was about to change.

Jiyoon sat rigidly in her chair, hands folded over the table, listening to the steady voice of Dr. Kim as she assigned cases.

The meeting room was dimly lit, the scent of coffee lingering in the air, and the faint hum of hospital machinery bleeding through the walls.

"As you all know, rotations have changed, and some of you will be taking on new cases," Dr. Kim said, flipping through the files in her hands.

Jiyoon adjusted her glasses, her expression neutral. A new patient wasn’t unusual.

She had been trained for this, condition, diagnosis, treatment. Emotions had no place in her line of work.

“Dr. Ryu, you’ll be moving to a different ward,” Dr. Kim continued. “Your current patient, Choi Jungeun, will be reassigned to Dr. Yoon Jiyoon.”

Jiyoon straightened slightly at the mention of the name. Dr. Kim slid the file across the table toward her. She picked it up, flipping it open with a practiced detachment.

Choi Jungeun. Age: 18. Diagnosis: Acute Myeloid Leukemia. Prognosis: Fatal.

Jiyoon’s eyes traced over the information. The test results, treatment history, bloodwork, everything was neatly laid out.

Jungeun had been battling her illness for a long time. Chemotherapy. Transfusions. The pages of her records told a story of endurance, of relentless treatment cycles and hopeful attempts that all led to the same unfortunate conclusion.

She exhaled silently. This wasn’t new. She had seen it before. Patients coming in young, full of life, only to wither under the weight of something they couldn’t fight off.

She flipped to the attached photo, a standard hospital identification picture clipped to the file. Jungeun didn’t look like she belonged in a hospital.

She had soft brown hair with bangs framing her face. Her features were delicate, her expression calm.

If Jiyoon hadn’t known better, she would have assumed she was just another college student, someone living a normal life.

But instead she wasn’t. She was terminal.

Jiyoon shut the file. “Understood,” she said, her voice even.

Dr. Kim nodded. “You’ll meet her later today. She’s a bit different from the usual cases. She doesn’t talk much about her condition, but she’s close with Dr. Ryu.”

Jiyoon glanced at Sarang, who was sitting a few seats away. Jungeun’s previous doctor had been her age, a rare case.

Most doctors didn’t enter the field that young, but Sarang was gifted. And now, Jiyoon was replacing her.

“Got it,” she said again, more to herself than anyone else.

She had met countless patients before. Jungeun would be no different.

‘Yeah she wouldn’t.’ Jiyoon moreso convinved herself.

She had read through Jungeun’s file multiple times before stepping into the patient’s room.

She knew every medication Jungeun had taken, every round of chemotherapy she had endured, and every failed attempt to stabilize her condition.

But what she hadn’t prepared for was the person sitting by the window, bathed in the soft afternoon light.

Jungeun looked serene underneath the light, like she wasn’t fighting for her life.

Her brown hair fell softly over her forehead, framing her delicate face. Her skin was pale, but it carried a warmth that Jiyoon hadn’t anticipated.

Even with the oversized hoodie draped over her frame, she looked nothing like the patients Jiyoon had grown used to treating. Jungeun didn’t look like she belonged in a hospital bed.

She looked a bit bored, seemingly not interested in her new doctor, which Jiyoon suddenly felt aware of.

‘Whatever, just do your job Jiyoon.’ She mentally slapped herself.

“Jungeun.” She gulped.

A pause. “Dr Yoon?”

Jungeun turned to her then, and for the briefest second, Jiyoon felt herself falter.

Her eyes.

Her eyes shaped like a cats, soft hues of brown beneath them.

Jiyoon quickly looked down and resumed writing on her clipboard. She refused to look up again as she was scared her heart would hammer out her chest.

She kept writing while Jungeun asked her unnecessary questions. Kind of like a kid. Cute.

Soon after she was done with her duty and turned to leave.

As she stepped out of the room, she exhaled deeply. She had read Jungeun’s records. She had known how this would end before she even walked in.

But what she hadn’t expected was how devastatingly beautiful Jungeun would be.

And for the first time in a long time, Jiyoon felt something.

—

Jiyoon never really intended on ignoring Jungeun. She was just the type of person who didn’t like to make attachments.

She was just simply doing her job, which happened to require a certain level of professionalism.

Jungeun had been under her care for a week now, and Jiyoon had managed to keep their interactions strictly medical, checking vitals, monitoring symptoms, making sure she was following her treatment plan.

Jungeun, however, was not making it easy.

"Doc, you ever get tired of looking so serious?"

Jiyoon did not respond to that. She kept her attention on the clipboard in her hands, noting Jungeun’s latest blood test results.

"Dr. Jiyoon," Jungeun drawled, dragging out the syllables as she shifted on her bed. "You never smile, do you?"

Jiyoon exhaled slowly.

"Why should I?”

Jungeun rolled her eyes. "Stop being nonchalant. I know you’re hiding something underneath all that.”

Jiyoon tapped her pen against the clipboard, not looking up.

"You should be resting," she said instead.

"I rest all the time," Jungeun shot back. "I have leukemia, remember? Kind of a full time job."

Jiyoon’s grip on her pen tightened. Jungeun always did this, made light of things that weren’t light at all.

It unsettled her. It made her want to correct her, to remind her that none of this was a joke. But that wasn’t her role.

So she simply said, "You’re due for another blood test tomorrow. Don’t skip it."

Jungeun groaned dramatically, flopping onto her pillow.

"Oh my God, you sound just like Sarang."

"Dr. Ryu and I are not the same," she said.

"Yeah, tell me something different ." Jungeun propped herself up on her elbows. "Sarang was fun. You’re like a robot."

Jiyoon ignored that.

"I’ll send a nurse in with your meds."

She turned to leave, but Jungeun’s voice stopped her.

"Do you ever just sit down?"

Jiyoon paused. "Excuse me?"

Jungeun patted the empty chair beside her bed. "Sit. You’re always standing. It’s making me nervous."

Jiyoon didn’t move. "I don’t sit unless necessary."

"It’s necessary. You’re stressing me out."

Jiyoon should have walked away. She really should have.

Instead, for reasons even she couldn’t explain, she sat down.

Jungeun looked surprised for half a second before she grinned.

"Oh wow, you actually listen. Progress!"

Jiyoon crossed her legs and rested her hands on her lap. "Was there something you needed, or are you just trying to waste my time?"

Jungeun hummed. "A little of both."

Jiyoon waited. Jungeun seemed to be thinking, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the hem of her blanket. Then, she said, "You’re not as scary as I thought you’d be."

Jiyoon raised an eyebrow.

"Scary?"

"Yeah. When I first saw you, you looked so put together. Like you had zero emotions and zero patience for human interaction." Jungeun smirked. "Which, I mean, still kind of applies."

Jiyoon sighed.

"You say a lot of unnecessary things."

"But you listen to me." Jungeun stuck her tongue out. "Why is that?"

Jiyoon didn’t answer.

She wasn’t sure she had an answer.

It was almost like Jungeun had an invisible magnet which was too hard to pull away from. Even if Jiyoon wanted to walk away or ignore the feelings rising up in her chest when she was with Jungeun, she couldn’t.

She needed to stop that.

"I should go." Jiyoon stood up. "You need rest."

Jungeun watched her with knowing eyes.

"Sure, Doc. Whatever you say."

—

Jiyoon had only left for an hour, just enough time to check on another patient and update records.

But when she returned to Jungeun’s room, expecting to find her in bed where she was supposed to be, the sheets were neatly folded back and the room was empty.

Jiyoon wasn’t the type to panic.

She was calm under pressure, methodical in crises, and never let emotions cloud her judgment.

It was why she had climbed through medical school with such efficiency, why her mentors always praised her ability to maintain composure in tense situations.

But right now? Right now, she was panicking.

“Where the hell has that kid gone.” She mumbled.

She stepped out into the hallway, scanning for any sign of the younger girl. Nothing. Jungeun’s IV pole was still in the room, which meant she hadn’t gone far.

But that didn’t help Jiyoon’s rising anxiety, not only because Jungeun’s health was fragile, but because this would be on her.

If Dr. Kim, their senior doctor, found out that Jiyoon had lost a patient under her care only on her first week as her assigned doctor?

She wouldn’t just get an earful, her entire reputation would take a hit.

Jiyoon exhaled sharply.

‘Think, Yoon Jiyoon. Where would she go?’

Her mind raced through possibilities. Jungeun wasn’t one to cause trouble, but she was restless.

Sarang had mentioned that Jungeun hated feeling trapped, hated the walls of the hospital closing in on her. If she wasn’t in her room, she had to be somewhere open.

Then she heard a familliar melody.

Music.

Jiyoon turned toward the sound, her feet moving toward the source. The notes were light, echoing through the air like a whisper.

‘Still With You, huh.’

Jiyoon followed it, her pulse steadying as she made her way through the hospital’s back doors, stepping onto the dimly lit garden.

And there, under the soft glow of the outdoor lights, sitting on the edge of a wooden bench with a guitar in her lap, was Jungeun.

Jiyoon stopped in her tracks.

She had never seen Jungeun like this before, at ease, lost in her own world, bathed in the quiet warmth of the night.

Her brown hair in a braid, her fingers plucking each string with delicate precision. Jiyoon’s heart melted at the sight. Jungeun looked so precious, she wanted to keep her in her pocket.

She had never seen this side of Jungeun before. Guess theres a first time to everything.

For a moment, she forgot why she had been so frantic just minutes ago.

Jungeun didn’t seem to notice her at first. She continued to play, eyes half lidded, completely immersed in the music.

Jiyoon let out a quiet breath and went closer to her.

She approached the bench, her footsteps light against the stone pathway. And when she finally sat down beside Jungeun, Jungeun stilled.

The melody faltered.

Slowly, Jungeun turned her head, and when her eyes met Jiyoon’s, her lips curled into the faintest smile.

"Took you long enough."

Jiyoon blinked.

"You knew I was looking for you?"

"I had a feeling." Jungeun rested the guitar on her lap, tilting her head slightly. "You seemed like the type to panic."

Jiyoon scoffed. "I don’t panic."

"Mm. Sure." Jungeun further insisted.

Jiyoon looked away, focusing instead on the guitar in Jungeun’s hands.

"You play well."

"Yeah well, I wanted to be a musician, you know."

Jiyoon turned to her, eyes flickering with curiosity.

"You did?"

Jungeun nodded. "Since I was a kid. I grew up with music all around me. My dad played the piano, my mom loved singing, guess I picked it up from them. But the guitar, it was mine. Something I taught myself."

Jungeun exhaled, letting her fingers pluck idly at the strings. "I used to dream about it. Writing songs, performing on stage. I even applied to a music school once. Got in, too."

Jiyoon’s eyebrows lifted slightly. "You got in?"

"Yeah. But well." Jungeun gestured vaguely to the hospital around them. "Life had other plans."

She expected Jiyoon to respond with something typical, maybe a logical remark, something about how unpredictable life was, or how she should’ve pursued her passion anyway.

But Jiyoon just stayed quiet, absorbing her words like they meant something.

Like they weren’t just another thing taken away from her.

Jungeun let out a soft chuckle. "It’s funny. I used to think nothing could stop me. That no matter what, I’d find a way to do what I love. Turns out, some things are just out of your hands."

Jiyoon finally spoke, voice softer than Jungeun had ever heard it. "Do you still play? Aside from moments like this?"

"Not as much as I used to." Jungeun glanced down at the guitar. "Some days I don’t even want to pick it up. Feels pointless, you know?"

Jiyoon didn’t react right away. Instead, she looked up at the night sky, thoughtful. "It’s not pointless."

Jungeun tilted her head.

"You still played tonight," Jiyoon said simply.

Jungeun blinked and looked down at the guitar, brushing her fingers over the strings again. "Guess I did."

They fell soon fell into silence but the only difference now, it wasn’t awkward.

Jiyoon had spent the past week trying to keep Jungeun at a comfortable distance, reminding herself that she was her patient, nothing more.

But right now, sitting beside her, listening to the distant hum of the night, watching Jungeun’s fingers glide over the guitar strings, Jiyoon felt the walls she built collapse.

She had spent so much time trying to not see Jungeun, to keep her at arm’s length. But now that they were sitting here, under the same night sky, Jiyoon couldn’t unsee her.

Jungeun turned to look at her again.

"You’re staring."

Jiyoon didn’t deny it.

"You surprise me."

Jungeun raised an eyebrow. "Good surprise or bad surprise?"

"Not sure yet.”

Jungeun let out another soft laugh, shaking her head. She plucked a few more strings, filling the silence between them.

—

It had been a little over three months ever since, Jiyoon was assigned to be Jungeun’s doctor, and honestly? Jiyoon could get used to this.

Their dynamics had shifted now, but for the better.

Maybe it was that night in the garden, when Jungeun played under the moonlight, or maybe it was the morning after, when Jiyoon walked into Jungeun’s room with the usual clipboard in hand and, for the first time, Jungeun looked genuinely happy to see her.

Jiyoon noticed it in the smallest things. Like how Jungeun always waited for her now.

Before, Jungeun would be distracted, flipping through a book, messing with her journal, or just staring out the window like she had better places to be.

Now, she was always looking at the door first, expecting Jiyoon to walk through.

Jiyoon told herself she wasn’t imagining it.

Just like she wasn’t imagining how her own steps felt lighter on the way to Jungeun’s room. How she started lingering longer than necessary, not minding when Jungeun pulled her into conversations that had nothing to do with her check-ups.

Not even minding when Jungeun’s laugh stuck in her head for hours after she left.

"You’re late." Jungeun pouted, sitting up against her pillows.

Jiyoon raised an eyebrow. "I had other patients to check on."

"I know, I know, but still." Jungeun leaned forward slightly, eyes playful. "I’ve been waiting."

Jiyoon sighed, pretending to be unbothered, but Jungeun could see the ghost of a smile on her lips. "You know you see me every day. Nothing new."

"It is new." Jungeun tilted her head. "You keep bringing me those candies I like."

Jiyoon glanced at the small container of candies sitting by Jungeun’s bed.

She didn’t remember when she started bringing them. Jungeun had mentioned once, just once, that she used to love those when she was younger, but the hospital didn’t have them.

So being the secretly down bad person she was, she of course bought them for her.

They learned more about each other in the quiet moments.

Jungeun talked about her family, how they used to take weekend trips to the countryside before she got sick.

She talked about her old friends, the ones who still messaged her, and the ones who disappeared after the diagnosis.

Jiyoon listened.

And, sometimes, Jiyoon talked too.

It happened one night, long after visiting hours, when Jungeun convinced Jiyoon to stay a little longer. They were sitting by the large window, side by side, and watched the young night.

"You never talk about yourself." Jungeun glanced at her. "I mean, really talk."

Jiyoon exhaled, her eyes drifting toward the moon outside. "There’s not much to talk about."

"Liar." Jungeun chuckled. "Come on. You know everything about me. It’s unfair."

Jiyoon stayed silent for a while. Jungeun was about to drop it, and then,

"I became a doctor because of my parents."

Jungeun blinked. She hadn’t expected an actual answer.

Jiyoon continued, voice steady. "They wanted me to have a stable life. To be able to help people. And thats what I wanted too. It was a given, I guess.”

Jungeun watched her carefully, Jiyoon now sat relaxed, her expression didn’t change much, but her voice did. Just a little.

"Did you ever want something else?" Jungeun asked.

Jiyoon hesitated.

"I never thought about it. Being a doctor was always the goal." She paused. "I didn’t really care about anything else."

Jungeun tilted her head. "And now?"

Jiyoon didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she looked at Jungeun, really looked, memorizing soft glow of her features under the hospital lights, the way her brown bangs barely covered her eyes, the way she was looking at Jiyoon like she was worth figuring out.

Jiyoon’s chest felt tight.

"Now…" She swallowed. "I don’t know."

Jungeun smiled softly, like she understood something Jiyoon hadn’t said.

"That’s not a bad thing."

Yeah, maybe it wasn’t

After sometime, they resumed to their normal chatting, talking about useless things that didn’t matter.

However, Jungeun’s eyes sparkled witch mischief as she planned to open up a rather interesting topic.

Jungeun twirled the cloth of her hospital gown between her fingers before shrugging. "You ever had a special someone before?"

Jiyoon blinked. Once. Twice.

She wasn't sure she heard that right.

"What?"

"You heard me." Jungeun grinned, leaning forward. "A girlfriend or boyfriend? Great love?"

Jiyoon scoffed, shifting in her seat. "Uh.."

"So no?" Jungeun wiggled her brows.

Jiyoon inhaled slowly. "I mean I had time for that kind of thing."

Jungeun made a dramatic gasp. "Not even a little high school crush? Not even one fleeting romance?"

"No." Jiyoon cleared her throat, suddenly feeling too warm. "I was focused on med school. That’s all."

Jungeun blinked, then burst out laughing.

"Oh my god, you’re serious? You’re actually serious."

Jiyoon frowned. "Why is that funny?"

"Because!" Jungeun leaned closer, eyes full of mischief. "You’re telling me that no one has ever flirted with you? Or confessed to you?"

Jiyoon pursed her lips, staring at the floor. "I’ve gotten confessions before."

"And?" Jungeun nudged her foot.

"And I ignored them."

Jungeun clutched her chest dramatically. "Heartbreaker."

"It’s not like that." Jiyoon exhaled, running a hand through her hair. "I was just," She hesitated. "too busy to care."

"So you’ve never even kissed anyone?"

Jiyoon choked on air. "What kind of question is that?" Jiyoon sputtered, her ears turning red.

"A normal one," Jungeun said, still laughing. "I mean, how am I supposed to know? You could’ve had some secret lover this whole time."

Jiyoon huffed, trying to suppress the heat creeping up her neck. "I told you, Im busy, and I don’t really care."

"Alright, alright." Jungeun finally calmed down, still grinning as she properly faced Jiyoon. "I won’t bully you anymore."

"Good." Jiyoon exhaled, straightening her posture, trying to regain her usual composure. "Drop it."

"Sure, sure." Jungeun nodded.

A beat of silence.

"If you really wanna know what it’s like, I could do it for you."

Jiyoon’s breath caught in her throat as she snapped her head up so fast she almost gave herself whiplash.

"What?”

"I’m just saying," Jungeun murmured, tilting her head slightly. "I wouldn’t mind."

Jiyoon’s fingers curled against the fabric of her coat, knuckles whitening. She didn’t know how to react. Jungeun would for sure be the death of her.

Jiyoon hated how her stomach flipped.

"Shut up," she muttered, scowling.

Jungeun laughed, quiet, breathy, and unfairly pretty.

"Relax." Jungeun’s voice was gentle now, lacking its usual teasing lilt. "I was just kidding.”

"I,” Her voice cracked, and she cursed herself internally. She quickly cleared her throat, straightening her posture as much as she could.

"It’s late. I should.. I have work to do."

Fucking lame ass response.

Jungeun blinked, her smile widening just a fraction. "Right now?"

“Mhm.” Jiyoon wasted no time and scrambled up, rushing toward the door, red as a tomato.

“If you say soooo. Goodnight Dr Yoon. Dream of me.” Jungeun continued teasing.

All the way back to Jiyoon’s office, she promptly shut the door behind her and sank into her chair, burying her face in her hands.

‘Im fucked.’

—

Jiyoon’s hands were cold against the bouquet, fingers tightening around the ribbon as she stood outside Jungeun’s room.

She had rehearsed this moment in her head at least a dozen times.

Walk in, give her the flowers and chocolates, brush it off like it was nothing. Just a small gesture, nothing more.

Yet, her heart was hammering harder than it should have been.

It had been six months since she became Jungeun’s official doctor.

Six months of routines, of teasing remarks, of small conversations that stretched into long nights.

Six months of Jungeun slowly breaking her walls without even trying.

What had once been just work had become something and
Jiyoon didn’t want to think about what that something else really meant.

She finally knocked on the door, clearing her throat.

"Jungeun?"

There was a shuffle behind the door before it creaked open. Jungeun stood there in her oversized sweater, her brown bangs slightly messy, eyes blinking sleepily.

"Oh.. you’re here."

Jiyoon almost backed out right then.

Instead, she held out the bouquet and chocolates in one stiff motion.

"These are for you."

Jungeun’s eyes flicked between the flowers and Jiyoon’s face, as if trying to figure out if this was some kind of prank. Slowly, she reached out and took the bouquet, her fingers brushing against Jiyoon’s without meaning to.

Jiyoon swore her heart skipped a beat.

"You remembered?" Jungeun asked softly, holding the flowers close.

Jiyoon shifted on her feet, forcing her voice to stay steady. "Of course I did."

Jungeun’s lips curled into a small smile, the kind that always made Jiyoon feel like the ground beneath her was tilting.

"Chocolates too?"

Jiyoon’s gaze flicked away. "You like them."

Jungeun stared at her for a long moment, then warmly smiled.

"This feels suspiciously like a confession. Are you confessing to me?” Jungeun wriggled her eyebrows.

Jiyoon’s breath caught in her throat.

She should’ve brushed it off. Should’ve said it was just a friendly gesture, something any doctor would do.

But the words caught somewhere in her chest, refusing to come out.

Instead, she stood there, exposed, while Jungeun watched her like she could see every thought running through her head.

“Uhm..”

Jungeun set the bouquet down carefully on the small bedside table, her fingers lingering on the petals before she turned back to Jiyoon.

"Come here, sit.” Jungeun patted beside her bed while still smiling like a lovestruck fool.

She sat stiffly on the chair by the bed, hands clasped together on her lap. Jungeun slid onto the bed, drawing her legs up, still holding the box of chocolates like it was the greatest gift anyone had ever given her.

"Six months, huh?" Jungeun mused, breaking the silence.

Jiyoon nodded slowly.

"Time flies."

"Mm." Jungeun traced a finger along the edge of the box. "You didn’t have to do this."

Jiyoon’s mouth opened, then closed.

She didn’t have to.

That was the problem.

"I wanted to," she said quietly.

Jungeun’s fingers stilled. Her eyes flicked back toward Jiyoon, searching.

"Why?"

Jiyoon’s pulse quickened.

"You’re my patient."

It sounded pathetic even to her own ears.

Jungeun’s lips twitched. "I don’t think doctors usually give their patients flowers and chocolates."

Jiyoon swallowed hard, her gaze fixed on the floor. What can she even say now?

Jiyoon’s eyes flicked up. Jungeun was watching her again, head tilted slightly, fingers still curled loosely around the box.

"Why did you become a doctor?" Jungeun asked quietly.

Jiyoon’s throat tightened.

"I told you before."

"Because of your parents." Jungeun nodded slowly. "Yeah, I remember."

She leaned forward slightly, eyes locked onto Jiyoon’s.

"But that’s not the whole reason."

"I told you I wanted to help people and wanted to.. matter. You know that already.”

Jungeun’s expression softened.

"I know. I just wanted you to say it again because.. I want you to know you matter to me, right here.” Jungeun said while pointing to her heart.

Jiyoon looked to where Jungeun pointed and her mind raced.

‘Snap out of it Jiyoon. She can’t possibly see you in that way.’ Jiyoon shook her head.

“You know, I asked you before,” she started once more, voice light but laced with something deeper, “if you’ve ever kissed anyone.”

“…And I answered you, didn’t I?”

Jungeun shifted, swinging her legs off the bed, feet barely touching the floor. “What if,” she mused, “I changed that for you?”

Jiyoon stiffened, her breath hitching slightly. She turned, finally facing Jungeun, who was watching her intently.

Jungeun’s eyes were dark, thoughtful. Her lips curled playfully, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in her gaze.

Jungeun was now pushing herself down from the bed and stopped right in front of her, lowering herself to meet Jiyoon’s gaze.

“You’re really bad at running away,” Jungeun whispered.

Jiyoon swallowed, feeling her heart slam against her ribcage and before she could overthink it, Jungeun leaned forward, closing the remaining space between them.

Jiyoon barely had time to process it before their lips met.

Soft. That was the first thing Jiyoon noticed. Jungeun’s lips were warm and soft, pressing against hers with a gentleness that felt both new and familiar at the same time.

Jiyoon inhaled sharply, the scent of hospital soap and something distinctly Jungeun filling her senses.

She felt like she was standing at the edge of something dangerous, something irreversible.

And , just as suddenly, Jungeun pulled back, only slightly, just enough for their breaths to mix, for Jiyoon to see the expression on her face.

There was no teasing smirk this time, no playful glint in her eyes. Jungeun was looking at her with something raw, something real.

“I like you, Jiyoon.”

Jungeun just stared at her, waiting for a response and that was the breaking point.

Before Jungeun could look away, Jiyoon reached out, grabbing Jungeun’s wrist. The younger girl barely had time to react before Jiyoon yanked her forward, too hard, too fast, making Jungeun stumble straight into her arms.

Jungeun let out a soft gasp as she crashed into Jiyoon, hands instinctively grabbing onto her shoulders to steady herself.

But Jiyoon didn’t let her regain balance.

She leaned in, closing the distance between them once more. This kiss was different, it wasn’t hesitant, wasn’t experimental.

It was firm, almost desperate, like something had been unlocked inside of Jiyoon, something she had tried so hard to suppress but couldn’t anymore.

Jungeun’s breath hitched against her lips, but she didn’t pull away. If anything, she pressed closer, fingers curling against the fabric of Jiyoon’s coat.

Jiyoon felt like she was falling, but for once, she wasn’t scared.

She tilted her head slightly, deepening the kiss, savoring the way Jungeun melted into her.

It was intoxicating, the warmth, the softness, the way Jungeun’s hands clutched onto her like she never wanted to let go.

By the time they broke apart, both of them were breathless. Jungeun’s forehead rested against Jiyoon’s, her eyes fluttering open, dazed.

Jiyoon exhaled sharply, trying to get a grip on herself, but Jungeun wasn’t helping. Not when she was staring at her like that, not when her lips were swollen and her breath was still uneven.

A slow smile crept onto Jungeun’s face. “So, does this mean you like me too, or was that just a reflex?”

Jiyoon groaned, burying her face into Jungeun’s shoulder, but her arms stayed locked around her, refusing to let go.

Jungeun chuckled, soft and warm against her skin. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Jiyoon huffed, finally pulling back just enough to look at her again.

“Shut up,” she muttered.

Jungeun just grinned. “Make me.”

Jiyoon rolled her eyes, but before she could scold her, Jungeun was already tugging her for another kiss.

—

Their relationship became stronger after that, but Jungeun’s condition worsened day by day.

At first, it was just small things. Jungeun had always been independent, even when she shouldn’t have been.

She never liked asking for help, always brushing off her exhaustion with a joke, always forcing a smile even when her body was betraying her

One morning, Jiyoon noticed Jungeun wasn’t sitting by the window like she always did. She was still in bed, that was the first sign.

Then came the others. Jungeun’s appetite shrank. She started struggling to lift herself up. Some days, even holding her guitar was too much.

Jiyoon tried to pretend it wasn’t happening and that was easier than accepting the truth.

And then, one night, it happened.

Jiyoon had just finished checking on another patient when she passed Jungeun’s room and noticed the door slightly open. That was odd, Jungeun never left it open at night.

Inside, Jungeun was sitting on the edge of her bed, gripping the sheets tightly. Her body was shaking.

“Jungeun?” Jiyoon’s voice was gentle, but her heart was already pounding.

Jungeun glanced up, her bangs sticking slightly to her forehead from sweat. “I—” She swallowed hard. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

Jiyoon’s chest tightened. Jungeun was struggling to stand up.

“I got it,” Jungeun mumbled, even as her knees nearly buckled.

She didn’t have it.

Jiyoon rushed forward before Jungeun could collapse, slipping an arm around her waist and holding her steady. Jungeun’s body was terrifyingly light against her, her frame weaker than ever before.

Jungeun exhaled shakily, leaning into Jiyoon’s hold. “I can do it myself—”

“Shut up and let me help you.”

Jungeun chuckled weakly, her fingers clutching onto Jiyoon’s coat. “Fine.”

“You’re blushing,” Jungeun murmured as they shuffled forward.

Jiyoon scoffed. “You’re hallucinating.”

Jungeun hummed. “Nope. You like holding me.”

Jiyoon didn’t answer.

By the time they reached the bathroom, Jungeun was out of breath. Jiyoon’s heart clenched as she watched her grip the sink for support.

“Do you need me to—”

“No, I’ll take it from here,” Jungeun interrupted, flashing a small smile. “Thanks, though.”

When Jungeun finally settled back into bed, she was exhausted. Her breaths were uneven, her body curling in on itself like even existing was draining her.

Jiyoon sat beside her, forcing herself to keep her expression neutral.

She couldn’t let Jungeun see the fear eating away at her.

Instead, she reached for Jungeun’s blanket, carefully tucking it around her. Jungeun blinked at her sleepily, lips twitching into a weak smile.

“You really are soft, My doctor,” she murmured.

Jiyoon swallowed. “Sleep.”

Jungeun hummed. “You’ll stay, right?”

Jiyoon exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”

Jiyoon sat there for a long time, staring at the rise and fall of Jungeun’s chest. And in that moment, she knew. She was losing her.

Soon after Jungeun fell asleep, she decided to open the tests she had taken earlier. She didn’t get the time to check on it earlier during the day, so she went ahead and opened it, dreading the results.

Deep down in her heart, she already knew what it was gonna be.

Jiyoon stared at the papers in her hands, but the words refused to settle. They blurred together, meaningless symbols on a page that held the weight of Jungeun’s fate.

Metastasis. Multiple organs affected. No viable treatment options left.

Her breath hitched. This was it. She was dying.

Jiyoon gripped the edge of the counter in the empty break room, her knuckles white. The cold fluorescent lights overhead buzzed softly, an awful contrast to the deafening silence in her head.

The papers trembled in her hands.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Doctors weren’t supposed to cry.

She had trained for this. Studied for years. Prepared herself to face life and death with steady composure.

But none of that mattered right now. None of that could prepare her for this.

The girl who had been a stranger just months ago, who had forced her way into Jiyoon’s quiet, structured world with nothing but a sharp tongue and a soft smile.

The girl who had laughed at her, teased her, made her feel something she had never felt before.

The girl she had come to love.

Jiyoon’s breath came out in a shuddering gasp. She pressed her hands against the counter, willing herself to breathe.

‘You knew this would happen.’

‘You knew from the beginning.’

She had told herself, over and over, that she wouldn’t get attached. That Jungeun was just a patient. That this was just another case.

But the truth was, Jungeun had become something more.

She was the one Jiyoon searched for in the hallways. The one she looked forward to seeing every morning.

The one who had turned her once empty world into something unbearably full.

She dug her palms into her eyes, as if that could stop the tears from coming. The quiet, restrained part of her, the part that had always kept herself composed, shattered.

And for the first time in her life, Jiyoon let herself break. She wept. For Jungeun, for the time they didn’t have, for the love she had found too late, for the cruel, unforgiving truth that no matter how much she wanted to save her,

She couldn’t.

She would have to watch Jungeun slip away, piece by piece, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

And that was the most gut wrenching part of it all.

—

Jiyoon stood in the dimly lit hospital corridor, the weight of the truth still pressing down on her.

Sarang was standing in front of her, arms crossed, an expectant look on her face.

She had noticed Jiyoon’s shift in demeanor over the past few days, how she’d been more distant, quieter, even more restless than usual.

“Jiyoon, what’s going on?” Sarang asked, her voice steady but laced with concern.

Jiyoon inhaled sharply.

She had practiced this moment in her head over and over again, but now that she was here, standing in front of Sarang, she found herself struggling to speak.

“It’s Jungeun,” Jiyoon finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sarang’s expression shifted instantly, her posture straightened, her lips parting slightly as if she already sensed what was coming.

Jiyoon swallowed hard, forcing herself to continue. “Her latest tests, they came back.” She exhaled shakily. “It’s worse than we thought.”

Sarang blinked. “Worse?”

Jiyoon nodded, gripping the clipboard even tighter. “The cancer has spread. Multiple areas. It’s progressed beyond what we were hoping to contain.”

Sarang stiffened. “What are you saying?”

Jiyoon struggled to find the words, but there was no way to soften the truth. “She doesn’t have much time left.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Sarang stared at her, eyes searching, as if hoping Jiyoon would take it back, that she’d say she misspoke, that it wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

But the words she expected never followed.

Sarang felt a lump in her throat, as she tried surpressing tears. “No,” she muttered, shaking her head slightly.

“No, that can’t be right. Jungeun’s been doing okay, hasn’t she? She’s still—”

“She’s getting weaker every day,” Jiyoon interrupted, voice tight. “She doesn’t show it, but I see it. I know you do too.”

“I can’t tell her,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “I— I need you to do it.”

Sarang let out a short, breathless laugh, one that held no humor. “Jiyoon, you’re her doctor. You’re the one who’s been taking care of her every single day for the past six months. How do you expect me to be the one to tell her?”

“I’m not just her doctor.” Jiyoon’s voice was raw, her grip tightening. “You know that.”

Sarang sighed, placing her hand over Jiyoon’s. “Jiyoon…”

Jiyoon squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. When she opened them again, her gaze was pleading. “and if I do it, im afraid she’ll hate me.”

“She’ll look at me, and she’ll know that I kept this from her,” Jiyoon continued, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Every time I smiled at her, every time I gave her hope she’ll realize it was a lie. And I can’t.” Her breath hitched. “I can’t do that to her.”

“She’s—” Jiyoon clenched her jaw, willing herself not to fall apart, but her eyes burned.

“She’s not just a patient to me Sarang. She has become my world now—” She shut her eyes, inhaling shakily. “I care about her. I care about her more than I should, and I don’t know how to sit in front of her and tell her that she’s dying.”

Jiyoon opened her eyes, pleading. “Please. I’ll do anything. Just.. tell her for me.”

Sarang didn’t argue. She just exhaled, nodding once before walking past Jiyoon toward Jungeun’s room.

Jungeun sat up in bed, her fingers absentmindedly twisting the hem of the hospital blanket. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the machines monitoring her vitals.

She had noticed it immediately, how different today felt. And her suspicions were confirmed when it wasn’t Jiyoon who entered the room but Sarang.

Jungeun’s lips curled into a teasing smile. “What, did Jiyoon finally quit and leave me in your hands instead?”

Sarang didn’t smile back.

Jungeun’s fingers froze mid movement.

The silence stretched too long. Too heavy.

A strange, sinking feeling settled in her chest.

“Sarangie?” Her voice was quieter now. Uncertain.

Sarang inhaled sharply, stepping closer. She pulled up the stool beside Jungeun’s bed, sitting down with a slow, deliberate movement. Jungeun’s heart started pounding for reasons she didn’t quite understand yet.

Then, Sarang spoke.

"Jungeun, we got your latest test results back."

The world seemed to slow down.

Sarang continued, but Jungeun barely heard her past the ringing in her ears.

"The cancer has spread."

Jungeun’s fingers twitched. Her throat closed up.

No.

Sarang was still speaking, her voice carefully measured. “We’ve done everything we could to slow it down, but it’s reached multiple organs now.”

Jungeun blinked. Her vision swam for a second. She forced herself to swallow, forcing out the only word that could come to mind.

“How much time do I have left?” Was the first question she asked.

Sarang’s expression faltered. “About two months.”

‘Ah. So thats that. Sixty days.’

Jungeun didn’t react and just stayed still, refusing to believe her ears. She blinked and blinked, trying to wake herself up if it was a dream.

But it wasn’t.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she clutched onto her blanket tightly.

Sarang reached for her, hesitating before placing a hand over Jungeun’s clenched fists. "Jungeun," she said gently. "I’m so sorry."

“Did Jiyoon know?”

Jungeun looked up at her, her expression unreadable. "Did she know before you told me?"

Sarang opened her mouth, then closed it.

That was all Jungeun needed.

She let out a sharp exhale, tilting her head back against the pillow. A humorless chuckle slipped past her lips.

Sarang watched her carefully. “Jungeun…”

Jungeun let out a slow, unsteady breath. Then, forcing the pieces of herself back together, she turned away.

“Could you leave me alone for a bit?”

Sarang hesitated, but after a moment, she nodded.

“I’ll be close by,” she murmured before stepping out of the room.

The second the door closed, Jungeun exhaled shakily, her whole body trembling.

—

The door to Jungeun’s room creaked as Jiyoon stepped inside, her heart heavy with the weight of the past few days.

Sarang had told Jiyoon that she had told Jungeun the devastating news, but nothing could prepare her for the reality of seeing Jungeun like this.

Lying the sterile white bed, looking smaller, frailer than she had ever seen her. It was as if the light had dimmed in her, leaving only a shadow of the vibrant, playful girl she’d come to love. Telling someone about their condition really worsens everything.

Jiyoon’s throat constricted, and she almost couldn’t breathe. She had spent so many nights pretending that everything would be fine, that somehow Jungeun would beat this, she had convinced herself that there would be more time, more moments to hold onto.

But now, standing here, it felt as if the world was falling apart in the most painful of ways.

“Jiyoon,” Jungeun said softly, her voice weak, but still somehow containing that warmth that always made Jiyoon feel at ease.

“You look tired. Don’t you have other patients to take care of?”

The words felt too light for the situation, too gentle for the gravity of the moment. Jiyoon’s hands trembled as she walked closer to the bed, her gaze flickering to Jungeun’s pale face.

She wanted to say something, to pretend like everything was okay. But how could she? How could she say anything that would make this any easier when she knew the truth?

Jiyoon didn’t want to look away. She didn’t want this moment to end. She wanted to burn this memory into her heart, into her soul, to remember it for as long as she lived.

But Jungeun broke the silence, her voice soft and fragile, like a breath against Jiyoon’s skin.

“I’m scared,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving Jiyoon’s. “I’m scared of leaving you alone.”

The words hit Jiyoon like a physical blow. Her chest tightened, and her breath caught in her throat.

How could she bear it? How could she live without Jungeun in her life? The thought was unbearable, suffocating.

“I’m scared too,” Jiyoon admitted, her voice shaky. “But.. I don’t want you to be afraid. Not now. I’ll be here with you. I’ll stay by your side until the very end.”

Jungeun gave a faint, almost imperceptible nod, her gaze softening as she studied Jiyoon’s face, as if trying to hold onto the image of her for just a little longer.

Her hand reached up to gently cup Jiyoon’s face, the touch so tender, so filled with care, that Jiyoon couldn’t help but lean into it.

For a moment, it felt like time had slowed down. The room around them faded into the background, leaving only the two of them, two hearts connected by an unbreakable bond.

Jiyoon closed her eyes, leaning into Jungeun’s touch, her own hand reaching to thread through Jungeun’s hair.

“I love you,” Jungeun whispered again, her voice a soft tremor.

Jiyoon couldn’t help but break down at the words.

“I love you too,” Jiyoon replied, trying with all her mihht to stay composed.

Her heart ached with the intensity of it, the weight of the love she felt, the love that was slipping through her fingers like sand.

And then, without another word, Jungeun tilted her head, just slightly, her eyes flickering to Jiyoon’s lips, then back to her eyes.

Jiyoon’s breath hitched, and she knew exactly what was happening. She had always known. But now, with Jungeun’s frailty so clear in front of her, it felt like the most fragile, precious moment they would ever have.

Jiyoon closed the distance between them, her lips meeting Jungeun’s in a kiss that was soft, tentative, as if they were both afraid that something would break if they pressed too hard.

But soon, the kiss deepened, as if their hearts were calling to each other, desperate to feel the closeness that had always been so natural between them.

hand moved to the side of Jungeun’s face, cradling it gently as her body leaned in, her chest pressed against Jungeun’s, the warmth of their bodies grounding them in the midst of the storm inside.

Jungeun responded slowly at first, her own hands coming up to rest against Jiyoon’s back, pulling her in closer, as though she never wanted to let go.

And it was in this kiss that Jiyoon realized, with the weight of all the love she had for this girl, that no matter how little time they had left, she would give everything just to hold on to this feeling, just to hold on to her.

When they finally broke the kiss, they were both breathless, foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath.

For a few long moments, they just stayed like that, sharing the silence between them, not needing to say anything more.

The world outside didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered but the two of them, their hearts beating in sync, their souls entwined in a way that only love could create.

“I don’t want to let go,” Jiyoon whispered, her voice breaking again. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” Jungeun whispered back, her voice hoarse but filled with a quiet certainty. “I’m always with you. Even when I’m not here, I’ll be in your heart.”

She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to know that Jungeun was already preparing herself to say goodbye.

She wanted to scream, to shake her, to make her stay. But the reality was undeniable. Jungeun’s time was running out, and Jiyoon couldn’t change that.

They didn’t talk anymore. Instead, Jiyoon lay beside Jungeun, pulling her to lay on her chest like she was afraid that if she let go, she would disappear.

She wrapped her arms around her waist, pulling her close, as if she could somehow hold onto her by holding her tighter.

She could feel Jungeun’s slow, steady breathing beneath her, and it brought her some comfort, even as the terror of the inevitable weighed heavily on her.

“Sleep,” Jungeun whispered, her voice soft and warm, laced with exhaustion. “I’m right here. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Jiyoon nodded, her cheek pressed against Jungeun’s head, listening to the rhythm of her heartbeat. It was faint, slower than before, but it was still there. As long as it was still there, there was hope.

They didn’t have much time. But for now, in this moment, she would hold on to her. She would lie beside her, feel the warmth of her skin, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept.

And maybe, just maybe, she would be able to pretend that everything was okay for just a little while longer.

—

Those were the last moments of those two together. The very next day Jungeun fell into a coma.

No one knew if she would wake up the next day, next week or next month. She could even pass peacefully in her sleep. This sight broke Jiyoon even more.

When Jiyoon woke up and tried waking up Jungeun, she wouldn’t budge. She immediately got off and went to call for help, which they then declared her in a coma.

It had been a month now since Jungeun had slipped into a coma. It was no longer just a matter of time, but of inevitability.

It was as if the universe had decided that no amount of love, no amount of tears or prayers, could change the outcome.

Jungeun was slipping, and every breath she took seemed more fragile than the last.

Jiyoon hadn’t left her side since that night they shared they were together.

She couldn’t. She wasn’t sure if she could survive without knowing that Jungeun was there, even if only in the faintest, most fragile form.

It felt like her entire world was crumbling under the weight of it all, and yet, she kept fighting, kept hoping, even though every part of her knew the truth. Jungeun wouldn’t wake up.

Her hand was still in Jungeun’s, even now as the younger girl lay unconscious in her bed.

Jiyoon squeezed it, her heart aching with every touch, as if by holding on a little tighter, she could stop the inevitable from happening.

Nowadays, she had been busy with a lot of patients, but when its time for her to rest, she always ends up in Jungeun’s room.

Jiyoon sat in the chair beside the bed, staring at Jungeun’s pale face, the soft rise and fall of her chest the only sign that she was still here, still with her. But it wasn’t the same anymore.

The light that once sparkled in her eyes, the warmth that radiated from her when she smiled, was gone.

It was replaced by an emptiness that Jiyoon didn’t know how to fill.

She had always known this day would come. She had always known that it was possible, that Jungeun’s illness might eventually take her away.

But knowing that something was possible didn’t make it any easier.

It didn’t prepare her for this moment, the moment when the person she loved more than anything was slipping from her grip, and she couldn’t stop it.

Jiyoon’s tears fell freely now. She didn’t care anymore if anyone saw her.

She had cried in private enough to drown herself in sorrow.

But here, in the quiet of this sterile room, where everything seemed so still, her grief couldn’t be contained.

It was all consuming.

“Jungeun,” Jiyoon whispered, her voice barely audible, as if she were afraid that speaking too loudly would make the moment even worse.

She brought Jungeun’s hand to her lips, kissing it gently, as if that might somehow keep her close. “Please don’t leave me. Please. I can’t.. I can’t do this without you.”

But Jungeun didn’t respond. The beeping of the machines continued its steady rhythm, indifferent to Jiyoon’s desperate plea.

And it crushed her even more.

The days seemed to drag on in a haze. Jiyoon would sit beside Jungeun, watching her, talking to her, hoping that somehow, the connection between them would be enough to bring her back.

But the reality of it all was too heavy to deny. Jungeun was already gone in so many ways.

And one evening, Jiyoon couldn’t take it anymore. She left the room for a brief moment to clear her mind, but she knew she was only running from the inevitable.

She stood by the window in the hallway, staring out at the night sky. The world outside seemed so far away, so disconnected from the pain that consumed her.

It felt like she was drowning in a sea of hopelessness, unable to find her way to the surface.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to shout at the universe for being so cruel, for taking away the one person she loved more than anything.

But she couldn’t. It would change nothing. Jungeun was still slipping further away with each passing hour.

Jiyoon’s hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She could feel her heart breaking, piece by piece. “Please,” she whispered into the emptiness, her voice trembling. “Please come back.”

The door to the room creaked open behind her, and she turned quickly, wiping her tears before anyone could see.

But it was Sarang who entered, her face a mirror of the same exhaustion Jiyoon felt.

The younger woman stepped closer, her gaze softening as she took in Jiyoon’s broken state.

“Jiyoon,” Sarang said gently, her voice filled with quiet sympathy. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

Jiyoon didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. The words were trapped in her throat, heavy with the weight of everything she was feeling.

She was drowning in the pain of watching Jungeun slip away, and there was no way out.

Sarang approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to offer some comfort.

“I’m sorry,” Sarang whispered. “I know this is hard, but you have to face the truth. Jungeun.. she’s not going to make it.”

“I know,” Jiyoon replied, her voice hollow. “I know. But that doesn’t make it any easier. I can’t lose her. I can’t Sarang. Shes the person I never knew I needed.”

Her words trailed off, and her resolve broke. She collapsed into Sarang’s arms, her sobs wracking her body.

The dam she had been holding up so desperately for weeks finally broke, and there was nothing left to hold her together.

Sarang held her tightly, offering the only comfort she could in that moment, as Jiyoon’s grief poured out.

“I can’t live without her,” Jiyoon whispered through her tears, her words raw and vulnerable.

“I can’t imagine a world where she’s not here. Please, Sarang tell me there’s something I can do. Tell me there’s something, anything.”

Sarang’s own tears were threatening to fall as she held Jiyoon tighter, her own heart breaking for the woman she had come to care for.

And as Jiyoon cried in Sarang’s arms, she knew. She knew deep in her heart that Jungeun was slipping away, that no amount of pleading, no amount of love, would bring her back.

The moment was inevitable, and the pain was unbearable. All Jiyoon could do was stay by her side, holding her hand, praying for a miracle that would never come.

The next morning, Jungeun was still in the same state.

The machines continued their relentless beeping, the only sign that she was still hanging on to life, even if it was just barely.

Jiyoon sat beside her, holding her hand, too afraid to let go, but too afraid to face the reality of what was happening.

—

Two months.

That was how long Jungeun had been in a coma. Two months of Jiyoon sitting by her side, holding her hand, whispering words of comfort, but nothing had worked. Nothing could bring her back.

No matter how much she tried to will her to wake up, no matter how much she wanted to hear her laugh, to feel her warm touch, it was too late.

Today was the day. The day they would pull the plug.

It was the hardest thing Jiyoon had ever had to do. Her heart shattered into a million pieces.

Her and her fellow doctors and nurses stood quietly around the bed, the soft beeping of the heart monitor the only sound, but Jiyoon could hardly hear it anymore.

It felt as if time itself had slowed to a crawl, each passing second more agonizing than the last.

Jiyoon had known this day was coming. She’d known it for weeks, it was her herself who wrote down the schedule for the date.

She had tried to brace herself, but nothing could have prepared her for the wave of pain that hit her now in the moment.

It was like drowning in sorrow, the tears spilling uncontrollably as she knelt beside Jungeun’s bed, her fingers brushing over the younger girl’s cold hand.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at her, at the beautiful girl who was now so still, so fragile.

It felt wrong, so wrong, but Jiyoon knew it was the only thing left to do. She had tried everything. But now, she had to let go.

“Jungeun,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. She could barely speak through the lump in her throat, but she had to say it.

She had to say goodbye. “I don’t wanna let you go. Plesse open your eyes just this once, love, please.”

Her fingers trembled as she cupped Jungeun’s pale face, gently brushing the stray hairs from her forehead.

Her breath hitched in her chest as she looked at her, the same face she had kissed, the same face she had and always loved.

The girl who had been everything to her. “I love you. And I’ll keep loving you, even if you're gone. But I want you to be free. I want you to rest, to not suffer anymore.”

Jiyoon paused, wiping the tears that had fallen down her face. She leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on Jungeun’s lips, one last kiss.

The tears fell freely now, a steady stream down her cheeks. She pulled away slowly, her heart breaking as she whispered, “I’ll always be with you.”

And as the words came from Jiyoon’s mouth, a single tear slid down Jungeun’s cheek.

The doctors told Jiyoon to get ready and nurses moved toward the machines, preparing for the inevitable.

The heart monitor, the ventilator, everything that had kept Jungeun alive was about to be turned off.

She didn’t know how much time passed, but it felt like hours. Finally, the moment came. The machines were switched off.

The beeping of the monitor slowed, then stopped altogether. The room fell into a deafening silence.

Jiyoon’s body shook with the weight of what had just happened. Her world felt like it had collapsed around her.

She wanted to scream, to cry, to do something, anything, to change it. But there was nothing she could do. Jungeun was gone.

A sound tore from Jiyoon’s throat, a deep, guttural sob that seemed to come from the very pit of her soul. She collapsed forward, her hands pressing against Jungeun’s chest, her head falling to the bed as her body trembled violently.

The pain was unbearable, suffocating, like she was being crushed under the weight of a thousand heartbreaks.

It felt as if the world had stopped turning, as if she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel the crushing reality of the loss.

“I can’t. I can’t...” she sobbed, her voice broken, raw with grief. “I can’t live without you, Jungeun. Please. Open your eyes love, please.”

Her sobs wracked her entire body, and she clung to the bed as if she could hold onto the last remnants of Jungeun’s warmth.

But it was gone. The warmth, the life, everything that had made Jungeun who she was, it was gone. And Jiyoon was left here, alone.

The nurses and doctors stood silently in the background, giving Jiyoon her space, but they were just as devastated.

They all knew how much Jiyoon had loved her, how much she had done for her. But now, nothing could change the fact that Jungeun was gone.

Jiyoon sat there, her body trembling uncontrollably, her sobs echoing in the silence of the room.

She didn’t know how long she stayed there, how long she cried, how long she stayed clinging to the lifeless form of the girl she had loved.

Time seemed to blur, to stretch and warp around her, until all that mattered was the suffocating grief that threatened to swallow her whole.

“I’m so sorry,” Jiyoon whispered, her voice barely audible. “I should have done more. I should have loved you better. I should have...”

But there were no more words. There was nothing left to say. All that was left was the silence, and the aching emptiness that now filled her heart.

Jiyoon let the tears fall, her heart breaking more with every passing second.

It felt like she was dying too. And maybe, in a way, she was.

For how could she continue on when the person she had loved, the person who had made everything in her life make sense be gone in an instant?

But even in the darkest moments of her grief, Jiyoon knew one thing. She would always carry Jungeun with her. In her heart, in her soul, in every breath she took.

Even though Jungeun was gone, her love for her would never fade. It would live on, forever.

And with that, Jiyoon’s sobs became quieter, her tears slowing, but the pain in her heart would never fade.

It was the price of loving someone so deeply. The price of losing them. And it was a price she would pay for the rest of her life.

—

It had been several days since, yet it still felt heavy, thick with sorrow as Jiyoon lay motionless on the seat next to Jungeun’s bed.

It all felt surreal to Jiyoon, like a distant dream she couldn’t wake up from.

Jungeun’s favorite books, the snacks on the bedside table, her photographs pinned to the wall, each item a testament to the life she had lived, the person she had been.

The door to the room creaked open, and Jiyoon looked up, startled.

Jungeun’s mother, along with a few other family members, entered the room, their faces marked with quiet grief.

Jiyoon tried to steady herself, offering them a weak smile, but her insides twisted. She watched as they moved about the room, gathering Jungeun’s things, all the little personal touches that once filled the space.

She couldn’t bear to watch them take everything down, as if erasing the last traces of her.

It was then that Jungeun’s mother approached her. Her footsteps were slow, measured, her expression with pity, and she carried something small in her hand.

Jiyoon’s gaze immediately landed on the object, a journal.

The same journal that Jungeun had kept by her side for as long as Jiyoon had known her. It was slightly worn at the edges, with a black cover filled with stickers that looked more like a memory than an object.

She recognized it instantly.

Jungeun’s mother stopped in front of her, holding the journal out. Jiyoon’s breath hitched in her throat.

“She wanted you to have this,” her voice was low, filled with quiet emotion, barely holding back tears of her own.

Jiyoon’s heart stopped for a moment, her hand trembling as she took the journal.

She had seen it so many times, but never touched it. Jungeun had always kept it to herself, never letting anyone near it, telling Jiyoon that it was personal.

She had respected that, knowing how private Jungeun could be, even though she longed to understand what was written in it.

Jungeun’s mother gently placed a hand on Jiyoon's shoulder. There was a heavy sadness in her gaze, a weight that seemed to carry years of grief.

“You know,” Jungeun’s mother said softly, her voice filled with gratefulness and respect.

“My daughter was so strong. Stronger than I ever realized, and I’ve spent so many nights wondering if I could have seen it sooner.”

She paused, the words hanging in the air, the weight of them nearly suffocating. “She never let anyone see how much pain she was in. Not even me. Not even her closest friends. She carried all of it herself. But she always talked about you, Jiyoon.”

Jiyoon’s heart skipped a beat as she looked up, meeting Jungeun’s mother’s gaze.

The intensity of her eyes made Jiyoon’s chest tighten, as if she were staring at something too precious, something she wasn’t ready to lose.

“Jungeun loved you so much,” her mother continued, her voice trembling now, as if the weight of the truth had become too much for her to hold in.

“And I think it was you that kept her going for so long. You were her will to keep fighting. Every day, when she was in pain, when it seemed like things were too hard to bear, she thought about you. She talked about you all the time, about how she wanted to get better, not for herself, but because she wanted to be with you.”

“She wanted to be there for you in the way you were always there for her. You were her strength. You were the reason she kept going when everything else was falling apart. And because of that, thank you Jiyoon ah. For showing our Jungeunie the love she needed.”

Jiyoon’s throat tightened, and a sob broke free from her chest, but she quickly stifled it.

As Jungeun’s mom patted her back she continued, “This journal was meant for you. She wanted you to have it. It’s everything she couldn’t say to you, the things she kept hidden.”

“Thank you,” Jiyoon whispered, her voice barely audible and she hugged her back.

Later on, After everything had been collected, Jiyoon made a decided to stay and read the contents of the journal.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Jiyoon opened the journal, her fingers trembling as she turned to the first page.

‘Only meant to be read by my cute doctor Jiyoonie’

Were the first words Jiyoon read. She chuckled as she glanced down to find a polaroid attached to the page of them looking lovingly at each other.

It was decorated with many stickers and that favorite character Jungeun loved.

As Jiyoon flipped through the pages, her eyes were drawn to the first entry. She took a deep breath and began to read.

—

entry #1
jiyoon unnieee^ did u expect a diary dedicated to you from me? probably not right?

i started this diary because i know sooner or later i won’t be here by your side to tell you how i genuinely feel.

you know, when i first met you, i thought you were this walking ice cube. seriously, you were like a robot, always so serious. i was convinced that you never smiled and that you only cared about work and being efficient.

but then something shifted. maybe it was when you let your guard down for just a second, when you smiled at me for the first time, i realized you werent as cold as i thought. in fact, your smile was like a light that cut through my life.

you know what? i think it was when i realized how much i wanted to be around you. how much i enjoyed the little moments, the small gestures, the laughter that would bubble up between us when we were just us.

maybe i didn’t need to understand everything, maybe i didn’t need to have it all figured out. all i knew was that i was happy when you were around, and that was enough for me.

—

Jiyoon smiled softly as she read those words. She could almost hear Jungeun's voice in her head, teasing but with softness hidden behind the jokes.

The image of their first encounters, where she had been too serious, too focused on work, and too distant, now felt so distant to Jiyoon.

She wondered if Jungeun ever saw her like that, like a cold, unapproachable figure. The thought made her chuckle quietly, even as her heart ached.

She turned the page, the weight of those first few entries lingering with her.

As she read on, the tone shifted, the entries becoming more serious, more vulnerable. Jiyoon’s breath hitched as she read what came next.

—

entry #7
do you remember the backyard? i cant believe how many hours we spent there, just talking, laughing, doing nothing but being together. it was funny how, you started panicking when you didn't find me.

it was also the first time i have opened up to you. you know i rarely open up to people i have not known for quiet awhile. as you know by now im a very secretive person.

but as time went by jiyoonie, my affection for you just grew deeper and deeper. you were the complete opposite of me yet you were the only one who properly got me.

and i didnt know what to do with it. i didnt know how to tell you, but there it was. that night i kissed you, i didnt regret anything, and im glad i ended up confessing. for sometime, i got the feeling of being yours and you being mine.

—

Jiyoon’s heart ached as she read those words, but at the same time, it was beautiful.

Even in the silence, even when they hadn’t spoken about it, they had been connected in a way that was deeper than words.

She hesitated before turning the pages, already knowing what would come next. She read on, and the world seemed to pause.

—

entry #20
this might just be my final entry, haha.

i know that kiss earlier was going to be our last. i couldn’t explain it, but I could feel it. i could feel the weight of time running out. day by day, my body is growing weaker and i can’t deny that.

when i kissed you, i wanted to say everything id never said. i wanted to tell you how much i loved you, how sorry i was for leaving you so soon.

but i couldnt bring myself to say those words. you didnt need to hear my regrets. what you needed to know was that i was so incredibly grateful for you, for everything you gave me.

you were my reason to keep going, jiyoonie. i tried so hard to be strong for you, to hold everything inside because i didnt want you to see me break.

im sorry, jiyoon unnie. i never wanted to hurt you, never wanted to leave you with a broken heart. but i had to. and when i kissed you that last time, it was because I knew it was goodbye.

i watched you fall asleep beside me, and i couldnt help but cry. i was so scared. i didnt know if I’d ever get to tell you everything i wanted to. i didnt know if you would understand how much you meant to me. but i hoped that, even without words, you would know.

i will always love you, jiyoonie. always . And even if I’m not here, ill be with you. in your heart, in your thoughts, in every song you play.

—

By the time Jiyoon finished reading that final entry, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She sat sobbing on Jungeun’s bed hugging the pillow that still carried her scent.

Her hands trembled as she hugged the pillow tight, letting out sobs, that if anyone heard, they would break too.

She cried so much her head started spinning. She didn’t know what to do, didn’t know who to turn to, didn’t know where to go.

All she needed was Jungeun by her side.

“Jungeun, Jungeun,” she kept repeating, her voice breaking.

She gasped for air, as if the simple act of speaking her name would somehow make it real, would somehow make her feel less alone. But it didn’t. It never would again.

The emptiness of the hospital room seemed to mock her. It was too quiet. Too still.

There was no more laughter, no more teasing smiles, no more of Jungeun’s warmth. There was nothing. Just an unbearable silence that made her feel like she was suffocating.

She pressed her hands to her face, trying to block out the reality, trying to shut out the truth she had been avoiding the past couple days.

Suddenly a gush of wind from the open window, engulfed Jiyoon. The air didn’t feel cold, it felt warm. Like a comforting hug of a rainy day.

Jiyoon sat still and realized. Jungeun wouldn’t want her to stay like this, wouldn’t want her to live in this agony forever.

And that was the moment when she understood that Jungeun has given her a sign.

She couldn’t just move on, she couldn’t just let go, she would certainly try, for Jungeun. She would try to find a way to keep living, to keep moving forward, even though every step felt impossible.

The pain wasn’t going to disappear. It would always be there.

But somehow, she would find a way to honor Jungeun’s memory, to keep her alive in the things she did, in the love she carried for her.

Because that was the only thing left to do now. She would carry her with her, always.

And as the tears finally slowed, Jiyoon let out a shaky breath, pressing her hand against her heart.

“I’ll never forget you, Jungeun. I love you.” And with that she fell asleep on the bed. She found the will to try to live the life Jungeun would’ve wanted for her. For them.

—

It had been five years since Jungeun’s death. Five years since Jiyoon’s world had been turned upside down, since she had learned to live in a world without the girl who had once been the sun to her sky.

Five years, and the pain still lingered, like a constant ache that softened only with time, but never truly disappeared.

Jiyoon had made it. She had moved on in the way that life moves on when you have no other choice but to keep breathing.

At twenty five, she had grown into a respected doctor, a woman who had once been broken but was now stronger, more confident, and at peace with her life’s purpose.

The wounds had healed, but the scars remained as a reminder of the love she had shared, a love that still burned bright in her heart.

Today, she was taking the time to do something she hadn’t done in a long while, visit Jungeun’s room where it all began.

The same room where Jungeun had spent so many long months. The room where Jiyoon had learned what it meant to love someone more deeply than she had ever known.

The room that had once been filled with laughter and pain and shared moments, now stood empty. It felt like the room itself had its own heartbeat, beating in rhythm with Jiyoon’s, a place where her memories still lingered.

As Jiyoon stood in front of the room, her hand rested on the door handle, and she let out a breath.

She hadn’t been here in over three years, but it felt like time had never passed.

The walls were still decorated with the same pictures and artwork that Jungeun had left behind, little fragments of the girl she once was.

Jiyoon pushed open the door slowly, stepping inside, the quiet hum of the hospital’s air conditioning the only sound.

It was as though Jungeun had never left.

She walked over to the small chair by the bed, the one where she had sat for hours, nights stretching endlessly as she held Jungeun’s hand, listening to her talk about her dreams, her fears, her hopes.

Jiyoon sat down, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the bedsheet.

“I’m here, Jungeun,” she whispered, her voice soft, but filled with years of unspoken words. She paused, her throat tightening.

“It’s been five years, but I think about you every day. I still remember that day you went away.”

Her gaze shifted to the window, where the sunlight filtered in, bathing the room in a warm, golden glow. It was like Jungeun was there, listening to her, as though she could hear every word.

“I finally learned to play the guitar, and sometimes, I find myself playing the song that I first heard you play. Whenever I play it, I always remember you.”

Jiyoon then sat on the bed as her mind drifted back to their last night together.

“I met new people. Made new memories. Laughed, cried, lived, but you know, I never truly let go. How could I? You were everything to me. My heart still belongs to you, even now.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the silence envelop her, and when she spoke again, “I didn’t know how to keep living after you were gone. It felt impossible.”

“But I kept rereading the journal, and that gave me hope.”

Jiyoon sniffed, wiping her eyes, but her smile remained steady. “I still talk to you sometimes, you know? I tell you about my day. About the people I meet. About the work I do. And sometimes, I swear I can feel you there, listening.”

Jiyoon took a deep breath, her heart pounding against her chest. “I want you to know, Jungeun, that even though it’s been so long, I still carry you with me. I still love you. You’re never far from me. And I promise you, I will keep living, for both of us. I’ll make sure I keep moving forward, because that’s what you would’ve wanted for me.”

The tears that had been threatening to spill over finally fell, but this time, they were different.

They weren’t tears of pain, but tears of love. They were tears of gratitude for the time they had shared and for the woman who had shown her what it meant to truly live, to love, and to give everything of yourself to another person.

Jiyoon stood up from the bed, feeling a sense of peace settle over her.

She turned toward the window, the soft breeze from outside carrying the scent of spring. For the first time in years, she felt like she was no longer walking through life with a shadow over her.

She had carried that pain with her for so long, but now it was more like a memory that she could hold in her heart without it breaking her.

“I’ll keep going, Jungeun,” Jiyoon whispered. “I promise.”

As she walked toward the door, her fingers brushed the edge of the frame, and she looked back one last time.

The room, the hospital, everything felt different now. It wasn’t just a place where she had lost the love of her life.

It was a place where she had learned to love, to give, and to be loved in return. And in some way, it was a place where Jungeun’s spirit still lived on, inside her heart.

“I’ll be okay,” Jiyoon said softly, her voice steady, her heart full of love. “I’m okay now.”