A week.
It had been a full week since I last saw Liam.
I had locked myself in my room, barely stepping out even when Jia knocked or when Dad tried to coax me into eating something. I told myself I needed time—to think, to breathe, to forget.
But forgetting was impossible when every breath felt like a reminder.
Then, the emergency call came.
A patient in critical condition. No time to hesitate. No room for emotions.
I grabbed my car keys, threw on my coat, and left.
The hospital was a war zone.
"Multiple organ trauma," a nurse briefed me as we scrubbed in. "Internal bleeding. We have to move fast."
There was no time to process, no space to feel. The OR swallowed me whole, and I let it.
Scalpel. Clamp. Suction.
Everything outside these four walls disappeared.
"Heart rate dropping!"
"More suction—now!"
"We're not losing him," I muttered, pushing past the exhaustion, past the voices screaming in my head.
Seconds stretched into minutes, minutes into hours, until—
A pulse. A stable heartbeat.
The tension broke, relief settling over the team. The surgery was a success.
But I barely had time to breathe before exhaustion hit me like a freight train.
I stayed in the hospital dorm, too drained to drive home.
That's when Minho came.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle as he stood in the doorway.
I nodded. "Yeah. You?"
"Me too," he said, then hesitated. "You don't look fine, though."
I sighed, offering a weak smile. "I'll be fine."
"Hey… are you free after work?" he asked suddenly.
I looked up, surprised. His eyes held something warm, something hopeful.
A date.
"Yes, absolutely," I heard myself say, surprising even myself.
For the first time in a while, I felt like I could breathe.
Then my phone rang.
An unknown number.
I picked up.
And the moment I heard his voice, my stomach dropped.
"Come out," Liam ordered.
Not asked. Ordered.
I didn't think. I didn't hesitate.
I turned to Minho. "Maybe next time. I have to go."
His expression flickered with confusion but then settled into understanding. "Alright," he said with a small nod. "See you later, then."
I stepped outside, my heart pounding against my ribs.
Liam was waiting in his car.
"Get in," he said.
I shook my head. "I have nothing to talk to you about."
His eyes darkened. "Oh, but I do."
Before I could protest, he moved—fast, deliberate. In one swift motion, he picked me up, ignoring my startled gasp, and plopped me onto the passenger seat.
Click.
The seatbelt locked in place before I could even struggle.
I scowled. "You can't just do this."
Liam didn't look at me as he started the car. "If you really didn't want to talk to me," he said, voice low, "you wouldn't have come down."
I opened my mouth to argue—but nothing came out.
Because he was right.
So I stayed quiet.
The drive was silent. Tense.
Until we stopped.
I looked up, blinking at the modest restaurant in front of us.
Not too fancy. Not too loud.
Liam turned to me, his expression softening.
"They have the best kalguksu in town," he said, smiling just a little.
And for some reason, that made my heart ache.