There are days a person can never forget, no matter how many years pass.
Days when life is divided in two.
Before.
And after.
And that day was one of them.
I was working my usual shift at the hospital.
A busy day like any other.
Patients coming and going.
The monitors kept buzzing.
Nurses running between rooms.
And exhaustion piled up hour after hour.
I was organizing some files when the emergency room doors suddenly opened.
At first, I didn't pay much attention.
It happens dozens of times a day.
But then I noticed the tense faces around me.
Then I heard a member of staff urgently requesting that the operating room be prepared.
Then I heard a name that made my blood run cold.
Do-hyun.
My hand froze in mid-air.
For a second, I thought I'd misheard.
Then I saw him.
He was on the gurney that rushed down the corridor.
His clothes were stained with blood.
His face was paler than I'd ever seen it.
His eyes were closed.
It felt like something had dropped into my chest.
I don't remember how I got to his side.
I don't remember what I said.
All I remember is running after the gurney as they moved him quickly.
"Doo-hyun!"
He didn't answer.
He didn't open his eyes.
A nurse grabbed my shoulder.
"Move aside."
But I couldn't.
I wasn't looking at a patient.
I was looking at my family.
The person who had become a part of my daily life.
The person who filled the house with noise.
The person who bought ice cream when I was sad.
The person who called me his little sister.
The gurney reached the operating room.
And there I had to stop.
I couldn't go in.
I was just a nurse. I wasn't allowed to participate in the procedure.
I stood behind the closed doors, feeling helpless for the first time in a long time.
Just then, Michael arrived.
He was still wearing his lab coat.
When he saw the name on the file, he paused for a very short moment.
So short that no one else would have noticed.
But I did.
I saw the shock.
I saw the fear.
Then it all vanished behind that calm face everyone was used to seeing.
He came closer.
"What's his condition?"
I shook my head.
"I don't know."
It was the first time I'd said those words, and I hated them.
I don't know.
I don't know if he's okay.
I don't know if he'll live.
I don't know anything.
Michael looked toward the operating room doors.
Then toward the medical team.
A few minutes later, he went in with them.
As a resident, he was part of the team that would be working on the case.
As for me…
I stayed outside.
Waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting.
I hated nothing more than waiting.
In the ER, we move.
We work.
We do something.
But here, there was nothing to do.
Just sit.
And be afraid.
And watch the clock.
An hour passed.
Then another.
Then a third.
And every minute felt heavier than the last.
And every time the operating room doors opened, my heart leaped into my throat.
Until finally, one of the surgeons came out.
Everyone stood up.
But I couldn't even get up.
I was afraid to hear the answer.
But the surgeon said,
"The operation was a success."
Only then did I realize I'd been holding my breath.
Tears welled up in my eyes.
And I squeezed them shut.
Thank God.
Thank God.
Thank God.
That's all I could think of.
Michael came out after a while.
He looked exhausted.
There were bloodstains on his surgical scrubs.
And his eyes were tired.
But he shook his head to reassure me.
Just a small gesture.
But it was enough.
Many hours passed before Do-hyun was taken to his room.
And they wouldn't let us see him directly.
So we waited again.
Until finally, the time came.
I went into the room with Michael.
And Do-hyun was lying on the bed.
Pale.
Weak.
And covered in bandages.
But he was alive.
And that alone was enough.
Michael sat down beside the bed.
And I stood silently.
I didn't want anyone to see me on the verge of collapse.
After a while, he gradually began to regain consciousness.
His fingers moved first.
Then he slowly opened his eyes.
His first glance was toward Michael.
For a very brief moment, his usual smiles vanished.
His jokes disappeared.
His cheerful personality vanished.
He looked at Michael with a serious expression I had rarely seen from him.
Michael returned the look.
A heavy silence passed between them.
A silence filled with unspoken words.
Then Michael finally said,
"You're an idiot."
He said it in a low voice.
But I could hear the fear lurking behind it.
Do-hyun smiled a tired smile.
"I missed you too."
Then he turned toward me.
The moment his eyes met mine...
Everything changed.
The Do-hyun I knew returned.
The serious expression disappeared.
And that silly, familiar smile reappeared.
"Oh."
He said, staring at me.
"Why do you look like you attended my funeral?" I started crying immediately.
Right away.
Without even trying to appear strong.
"You idiot!"
"That's not an answer."
"You almost died!"
"But I didn't die."
"Do-hyun!"
"Yes?"
"I'll kill you myself."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Isn't that against nursing ethics?"
Even Michael closed his eyes as if he'd given up hope.
Do-hyun continued:
"At least wait until I recover."
I laughed through my tears despite myself.
And that was enough for him.
He sighed softly.
Then he raised his hand with difficulty.
He pointed at me.
"Listen."
"No."
"I haven't spoken yet."
"No."
"This is unfair."
"Speak."
He smiled a small smile.
Quieter than usual.
And more sincere.
He said,
"I swear it's the last time."
I laughed bitterly.
"You said that before."
"This time it's true."
"Liar."
He looked at Michael.
"Would you believe me if he testified?"
Michael replied immediately,
"No."
Do-hyun's mouth fell open in feigned shock.
"I was betrayed."
And yet...
Despite the fear.
And the long hours.
And the tears that wouldn't stop.
I found myself laughing.
Because Do-hyun was doing what he always did best.
Survival first.
Then trying to make us laugh before we even thought about crying.