JIMIN'S POV
"What are you doing, Yoon?" I asked while looking at his back.
He didn't react.
He probably thought I was asleep. I wasn't.
I had only pretended to sleep. The moment I heard the bedroom door open, I quietly followed him without making a sound. I never expected to find him standing alone in the cold night.
"I asked you something." I repeated, raising my voice a little.
This time he finally turned.
The moment he faced me, my eyes immediately fell on the cigarette resting between his fingers while the lighter was held in his other hand.
For a few seconds... I simply stared at it.
Since when... since when did you start smoking?
Out of everything I expected... This was the last thing.
I slowly walked toward him, my eyes never leaving the cigarette. Before I could snatch it from his hand, he casually pulled his hand back.
"Don't even try, Park Jimin." His voice was calm. As if the look on my face didn't affect him at all.
I clenched my jaw so hard it almost hurt.
"What do you think you're doing?" I asked, trying my best to keep my voice under control.
"I know exactly what I'm doing." The confidence in his tone only made me angrier.
"Throw that shit away." I looked directly into his eyes. "Do you even understand what you're doing? You're a doctor, Yoon... and you're standing here with a cigarette in your hand as if it's something to be proud of."
He looked at me for a few seconds before letting out a quiet laugh.
"So what?" he asked. "Doctors feel pain too."
He slowly looked down at the cigarette between his fingers before speaking again.
"We spend our whole lives treating other people's pain... that doesn't mean we stop feeling our own."
His words made my chest tighten.
"You really think smoking is going to reduce it?" I asked.
He didn't answer. The silence itself was enough.
I looked at him again. "Since when did you start smoking?"
He looked somewhere else before answering as if it wasn't even an important thing.
"Long ago." Those two words made me feel even worse.
How many things happened after we parted ways?
How much pain did you go through alone...?
Without thinking any further, he lifted the lighter and placed the cigarette between his lips.
Before the flame could even touch it, I immediately pulled the cigarette from his mouth and threw it onto the ground before crushing it beneath my foot.
"Then leave this habit," I said without taking my eyes off him. "Don't let me see you smoking ever again."
He looked at the broken cigarette on the ground before looking back at me.
A small chuckle escaped him. "You are funny."
He slowly folded his arms across his chest. "You still think I'll listen to you?"
I copied his posture and crossed my own arms.
"Won't you?"
For a few moments he simply stared at me.
The same stubborn eyes.
"Stop meddling in my business."
"I will," I answered without hesitation. "Whenever you're doing something wrong, I'll interfere. Whether you like it or not."
He smiled. But it wasn't the smile I used to know.
It carried nothing except bitterness.
"So..." he asked, taking one slow step closer, "you know what's right and wrong for me?"
"Of course I do."
The answer left my mouth without a second thought.
His expression changed instantly. The bitterness disappeared. Only hurt remained.
"Then tell me something..." His eyes never left mine. "If you knew what was right for me..."
"...why did you break my heart?"
Every word landed straight on my chest.
I opened my mouth... But no voice came out.
He laughed quietly after seeing my silence.
"Now answer me." His voice wasn't loud. Yet it hurt far more than if he had shouted.
I lowered my gaze for a second before looking back at him.
"I'll answer every question you have," I said slowly. "Every single one... and I'll explain everything."
He kept looking at me without saying anything.
"But not yet."
His lips curved into another empty smile.
"So you're still not sure..."
He gave a small nod to himself.
"Even after doing everything... you're still not sure."
There wasn't anger in his voice anymore. Only disappointment.
He suddenly threw the lighter onto the ground beside him. It hit the floor with a sharp sound before breaking into pieces.
Neither of us looked at it. He simply walked past me.
I stood there for a few moments, watching his back disappear toward the house.
Just give me a few more days, Yoon...
I'll tell you everything.
Because it hurts me just as much to see my Yoon standing here in the middle of the night with a cigarette in his hand, trying to convince himself that smoke can numb the pain I gave him.
I quietly followed him back inside.
When I entered the room, he was already lying on the bed with the blanket pulled over himself, both hands resting on his stomach as if he had been trying to force himself to sleep.
"If you can't sleep... you can hold my hand like before or you can even hug me," I said casually while closing the door behind me.
He slowly opened his eyes and looked at me. "I would rather stay awake the whole night."
I almost laughed.
Liar.
I knew him better than that.
"You sure?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I walked further inside.
He looked at me for a second before speaking, "Why are you wasting your sleep because of me? Just go and sleep."
I looked at the same annoying couch that had already become my bed from last night. Honestly, that thing was only made for sitting. Whoever designed it definitely never tried sleeping on it.
Without arguing, I dropped myself onto it and adjusted the cushion beneath my head before turning onto my left side so I could face him.
He had already closed his eyes again, trying very hard to look like someone who was about to fall asleep.
This cute man was trying to smoke in front of me just a few minutes ago... and now look at him.
The same man who was acting all stubborn outside was now lying quietly with his eyelashes resting against his cheeks, pretending he couldn't feel me looking at him.
I couldn't stop staring.
Seven years...
Seven years had passed, yet somehow my eyes still found peace only after looking at him.
"Can you stop staring at me?" he asked without even opening his eyes.
A smile immediately appeared on my lips. "So you know I'm staring."
"I can feel it."
"My eyes..." I replied lazily, making myself even more comfortable on the couch. "I can look wherever I want."
He finally opened one eye just enough to glare at me before closing it again.
"You really don't know how to listen, do you?"
"I do."
"Then why aren't you listening now?"
"Because I don't want to."
He clicked his tongue in annoyance before pulling the blanket a little higher as if that would somehow block my gaze.
I almost laughed again.
You are really trying to get on my nerves?
Fine then... I'll show you what real teasing looks like.
I folded one arm beneath my head and kept looking at him without blinking, waiting for him to lose his patience first.
The next morning, I came downstairs as usual, and the first thing I saw was my favourite sight.
Yoon and Jungkook were already sitting in the living room.

I walked towards them.
Just as I was about to sit on the couch, a sharp pain shot through my lower back, making my hand unknowingly reach behind me. I rubbed the sore spot for a second before slowly lowering myself onto the seat.
The movement didn't go unnoticed..Both Jungkook and Yoon looked at me at the same time.
Jungkook only looked confused.
Yoon... His eyes immediately filled with worry.
"Jimin, you're getting old. See?"
I looked at him without any surprise.
Honestly... I expected nothing less from him.
"Expected from you," I replied, sending him a glare before straightening my posture as much as my back allowed.
His grin only grew wider.
"So you agree you're getting old?" he asked proudly as if he had already won the argument.
I looked at him with disbelief.
"I'm just thirty."
"Thirty is old," he said without missing a beat before pointing at himself and then at Yoon. "Look at me and Yoongi hyung. We're still enjoying our twenties."
He was definitely teasing me.
I glanced at Yoon for a second.nUnlike Jungkook, he wasn't smiling. He wasn't enjoying the joke at all.
His attention hadn't even left me. He was still looking at my back, probably wondering how much it hurt.
That's my man.
"Of course," I nodded dramatically. "And why don't you also mention that I have a much bigger brain than you?"
Jungkook clicked his tongue.
"Maybe... but at least my back hasn't started hurting."
I almost threw the cushion at him.
"It's not because of my age, okay?" I defended myself immediately. "I slept on the couch last night..."
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
I paused.
Yoon's expression changed almost instantly.
The worry in his eyes deepened, and I knew he had already connected everything. He knew exactly why I had slept on the couch.
Jungkook looked between the two of us with narrowed eyes before silently raising one eyebrow at me.
Did something happen?
That was exactly what his face was asking.
Before Yoon could notice, I gave Jungkook the smallest shake of my head.
Don't ask.
Jungkook understood immediately.
He simply looked away as if nothing had happened.
"By the way, I'm getting late," he said while standing up.
"Me too," I replied while slowly getting to my feet. "I've got surgery in a while. I'll probably be standing in the OT for hours, so let me save whatever energy I have left."
Jungkook laughed. "Yeah, save your old-man energy."
"Get lost."
He laughed even louder before grabbing his bag and running out of the house.
YOONGI'S POV
Right now I was sitting in my cabin at the hospital, but not a single patient, file or report was occupying my mind. No matter how hard I tried to focus on work, the only thing I could remember was Jimin's face from today morning... the way he had tried so hard to hide the pain after hurting his back, pretending nothing had happened while I stood there watching him.


For the past two days he had been sleeping on that tiny couch. The couch wasn't even long enough for him to stretch his legs properly.
"Fuck..." I muttered under my breath, rubbing my forehead.
Why do I still care? I shouldn't.
That was exactly what I had been telling myself ever since I came back into his life.
He hurt me, He left me, He chose to walk away.
So why was my heart refusing to listen?
No matter how many times I reminded myself that I was supposed to hate him, the moment I saw him uncomfortable, all those thoughts disappeared as if they had never existed.
I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes for a moment.
Then I remembered something.
This morning...
He told Jungkook he has to perform surgery.
A major surgery meant he would be standing inside the operation theatre for hours without getting proper rest.
My fingers slowly tapped against the table.
He already wasn't sleeping properly because of that stupid couch. And now he was going to spend the entire day standing inside the OT.
I let out a slow breath before opening my eyes again.
I know what to do.
The thought came into my mind almost instantly.
I stood up from my chair, picked up the file lying on my table and walked straight out of my cabin. Doctors and nurses greeted me on the way, but I barely paid attention. My destination was the cardiac department.
Dr. Lee, one of experienced surgeon, was just coming out of the conference room after finishing his rounds when he noticed me.
"Director Min?" he asked, slightly surprised. "Do you need something?"
"I do." I stopped in front of him before handing him the surgery file. "The bypass surgery scheduled at eleven... I want you to perform it."
He frowned in confusion before opening the file.
"But... isn't Dr. Park the lead surgeon for this case?"
"He is."
Dr. Lee looked at me, waiting for an explanation. "Is there any problem with the patient?"
"No."
"Then... with Dr. Park?"
I remained silent for a moment before answering, "Nothing serious. I just need him somewhere else."
Dr. Lee looked at the schedule once again before closing the file.
"I can perform it, but won't Dr. Park ask why his surgery was reassigned?"
"I'll handle him."
"If that's your decision, Director."
I simply nodded before walking away.
A few minutes later I entered the administration office where the surgery schedules were managed.
"I need a small change."
The coordinator immediately stood up. "Yes, Director."
"Transfer Dr. Park's eleven o'clock surgery to Dr. Lee."
She quickly looked at the computer before hesitating.
"Sir... should I mention any reason?"
I looked toward the OT corridor through the glass window.
"Tell him there's an urgent review meeting regarding next month's cardiac equipment purchase. I want him to prepare the procurement reports and attend it personally."
"But... Director..." she said carefully. "That meeting isn't until next week."
"It is now."
She immediately understood there was no point asking further questions.
"I'll inform Dr. Park."
I nodded once before leaving.
Almost twenty minutes later, I saw Jimin walking toward the OT wearing his surgical cap, already holding the patient's file. Before he could enter, the coordinator hurried toward him.
"Dr. Park." He stopped. "Director Min has reassigned your surgery to Dr. Lee."
Jimin frowned. "What?"
"There has been a change in today's schedule. The director wants you to complete the procurement review and equipment documentation instead. He specifically asked for you."
Jimin looked genuinely confused. "He replaced me... for paperwork?"
"I'm only conveying the instructions."
For a few seconds he didn't say anything. Then he let out a quiet breath before handing the patient's file to the nurse.
"Alright."
As he walked toward the administrative wing, I watched him from the end of the corridor without letting him notice me.
"I don't care about him" I told myself.
Almost fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on my cabin door.
"Come in."
The door opened, and Jimin walked inside carrying a file in one hand. He was still wearing his white coat, his ID card hanging neatly around his neck. His hair was slightly messy, probably because he had already prepared for surgery before being stopped midway. He closed the door behind him before looking at me with slight confusion.
"You called for a meeting?"
I gestured toward the chair in front of my desk.
"Sit."
He frowned for a second, clearly wondering why the meeting was happening inside my cabin instead of the conference room, but he still pulled the chair back and sat down, placing the file neatly on the table.

"What is this meeting about?" he asked. "The coordinator said it's regarding next month's equipment."
"It is."
He waited for me to continue.
I didn't.
Instead, I quietly opened another file lying on my desk, pretending to read through the papers while stealing a glance at him every now and then.
He shifted slightly in his chair.
The movement was so small that nobody else would've noticed it.
I did.
Your back still hurts. You look weak.. like you are sick.
A few seconds later he adjusted his sitting position again, trying to look comfortable even though he clearly wasn't. I knew that habit. Whenever his back started hurting after standing for too long during surgeries, he unconsciously changed positions every few minutes.
"Director Min..." he finally called.
"Hm?"
"You called me here."
"I know."
He narrowed his eyes at me.
"Are you making me sit here for no reason?"
I finally lifted my gaze from the file before calmly closing it.
"I don't call people without a reason."
"Then tell me the reason."
I leaned back against my chair and folded my arms across my chest.
"I was reviewing the performance reports of the cardiac department."
He nodded once.
"You've handled the highest number of surgeries this month."
"I know."
"You've completed the maximum outpatient consultations."
"I know."
"You've taken the highest number of emergency shifts."
"I know."
I kept looking at him.
Can't he understand or playing dumb.
"And?"
He genuinely looked confused now.
"I don't understand what you're trying to say."
For a few seconds I simply tapped my finger lightly against the table before shaking my head.
"Leave it."
I noticed the corner of his lips twitch as though he was trying very hard not to smile.
"No... finish it, please." He asked.
"Your meeting ends here."
He blinked.
"That's it?"
"Hm."
He slowly picked up the file but didn't move from his chair.
"Then let me ask something."
I looked at him.
"Why was I replaced with Doctor Lee for today's surgery?"
I had nothing to say. My moved my chair Swinging slowly.
"Because he's more experienced than you." The excuse came out so naturally that even I almost believed it.
He let out a quiet laugh. "So?"
"So what?"
"So he's more experienced. I still have enough experience to handle that surgery."
"I don't think so."
One of his eyebrows slowly rose.
"I think you're forgetting something, Director Min."
"What?"
"I'm six years senior to you."
He leaned back comfortably, looking as if he had already caught me.
"I've been working in hospitals six years longer than you have."
I stayed silent.
He tilted his head slightly, studying my face.
"And suddenly replacing me from a surgery I've already prepared for..." He smiled just a little. "...sounds very suspicious."
"Think whatever you want."
I leaned back again, refusing to give him the answer he wanted.
Then he slowly leaned forward, resting both forearms on my desk while looking straight into my eyes.
"Is it because you were worried I'd have to stand for another six hours?"
"Of course not." I answered immediately. "Do you really think I care about you?"
Instead of looking offended... He smiled.
It was not a big smile but Just enough to make me regret asking.
He leaned a little closer over the table.
"You don't... my nerdy boy?"
This nickname always makes me weak.
"Stop calling me that."
"Why?" he asked innocently. "It suits you."
I clenched my jaw and looked at him straight.
"Be professional, Doctor Park."
He gave an obedient nod. "Yes, Director Min."
Finally.
He stood up. I thought he was actually leaving.
Instead, he quietly walked around the desk until he stopped beside my chair.
Before I could even ask what he was doing, both of his hands rested on the armrests of my chair, trapping me between them. He gently turned the chair toward himself until I was facing him completely.

I looked at him in surprise.
"What are you-"
He bent down without saying a word. For a second I forgot how to breathe.
Then I felt it. A soft kiss landed on my left cheek. It was so sudden that my mind completely stopped working.
He pulled back just enough to look at me, completely satisfied with the reaction on my face.
"I'm being professional," he said with a perfectly straight face.
Then he picked up his file, turned around, and casually walked out of my cabin as though nothing had happened, leaving me frozen in my chair with one hand unconsciously reaching toward the cheek he had just kissed.
I touched my cheek where I still felt the sensation of his lips.
"The fuck Park Jimin"
I hated the fact i couldn't control my heartbeat and my eyes immediately went on the CCTV in the corner.
At night...
I came back home earlier than usual, but Jimin being Jimin, he still stayed back in the hospital to help Doctor Lee. Even after i changed his schedule.
"I don't care... Whenever he comes back... whether he eats or not... even if he falls sick... it's none of my business anymore." I repeated those words inside my head as if saying them enough times would make me believe them.
I was sitting on bed where I had been studying since yesterday, my books spread in front of me, when the bedroom door finally opened.
My eyes instinctively lifted.
He walked inside looking completely exhausted. He simply placed his bag near the wardrobe, loosened the stethoscope from around his neck and disappeared into the washroom.
My gaze remained fixed on the closed door.
A few minutes later he came out after changing into a plain white T-shirt and comfortable pajamas. His damp hair suggested he had washed his face, yet even that couldn't hide how drained he looked.
Did he eat...?
The question appeared in my mind so naturally that it almost escaped my lips.
I stopped myself.
Why am I even thinking about him? Let him do whatever he wants.
Without saying a word, he walked toward the couch and practically threw himself onto it, resting his head against the cushion before closing his eyes as if he didn't even have enough strength left to reach the bed.
I looked at him for a few more seconds before pretending to return to my book.
"I'm hungry..." I deliberately spoke a little louder than necessary so he could hear. "...Guess I'll make something for myself."
As expected, his eyes slowly opened.
"Make some for me too," he said without even moving from his place. "I don't have the energy to cook today."
I looked at him for a moment before answering flatly, "Why would I?"
Without waiting for his reply, I got up and walked out of the room.
The kitchen was quiet.

The maid usually cooked only in the morning, so at night either Jimin or Jungkook prepared dinner. Jungkook wasn't home yet either. Maybe he had already eaten outside.
I opened the refrigerator before looking through the shelves.
"What should I make...?"
My eyes wandered from one ingredient to another until they stopped on a packet of soup mix. Beside it was minced meat, and the vegetable basket still had carrots, onions, mushrooms and spring onions.
A small smile unknowingly appeared on my face.
"Meatball soup..."
I quietly gathered everything and placed it on the counter.
Ever since moving to Singapore, I had gotten used to cooking for myself whenever I felt hungry late at night. At first it had been difficult, but slowly it became a habit. Now there weren't many dishes I couldn't make.
I chopped the vegetables into small pieces before seasoning the minced meat and rolling it into small meatballs. Soon the vegetables began sizzling inside the pot, filling the kitchen with a comforting aroma. After adding water and letting everything simmer together, I carefully dropped the meatballs into the soup one by one.
Nearly fifteen minutes later, the entire kitchen smelled warm and inviting.

I picked up a spoon and tasted it.
It is good.
No...It is actually delicious.
I switched off the stove before pouring the soup into two bowls. Without even realizing it, I kept adding more meatballs into one bowl while the other received only a few. After placing two glasses of water on the tray, I carried everything back toward the bedroom.
As soon as I entered, I saw him in the same position, eyes closed.
I deliberately cleared my throat.
He immediately opened his eyes before slowly sitting up. His foot touched foor
His gaze fell on the tray in my hands.
"So..." he looked at me before glancing at the bowls. "You cooked for me too?"
I placed the small table in front of him before setting one bowl down.
"No," I replied casually. "There was extra. Throwing food away would've been a waste."
He looked at me for a second before making a small "Oh..." as if he had expected exactly that answer.
I sat in front of couch, on bed, with my own bowl.
He picked up the spoon but suddenly stopped.
His eyes shifted between both bowls.
"If this is just leftover..." he asked suspiciously, "...then why does my bowl have almost all the meatballs while yours barely has any?"
He probably saw my boul when I was placing his boul on table.
Seriously... I couldn't even pretend properly.
"I think..." I spoke after a brief pause, trying to sound convincing. "...they got exchanged."
He slowly raised one eyebrow.
"Then let's exchange them now."
He was already extending his bowl toward me.
"I don't want to," I answered immediately, pulling my bowl a little closer. "You've already started eating."
For a second he simply looked at me.
Then the corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly.
"Such a little liar..." he murmured so quietly that he probably thought I wouldn't hear it.
I heard every single word.
I ignored him and quietly continued eating.
.
He finished before me.
Looking at the empty bowl in his hands was enough to know he had liked it.
He placed it back on the table before leaning his head against the couch again.
"My boy has learned to cook really well."
He complimented and i didn't react.
I quietly finished my own soup before collecting both bowls and the empty glasses onto the tray.
As I walked back toward the kitchen to wash everything, I could still hear nothing from the bedroom.
Part of me wanted to believe he had already fallen asleep.
The other part...
At least... he ate properly today.
When I walked back into the bedroom, the lights were already off.

He was asleep on the couch, curled into himself in an uncomfortable position, one arm hanging slightly off the edge while the thin cushion beneath his head barely looked enough.
I quietly sat down on the edge of the bed, my gaze refusing to leave him.
"Even after everything..." I murmured so quietly that even I could barely hear my own voice. "I know a part of me can never hate you."
The words felt heavier than they should.
I looked at him for a long moment before speaking again.
"Can you explain everything and prove that I was wrong all this time?" I asked with a bitter smile. "Can you...?"
Of course there was no answer.
There never would be unless he chose to tell me himself.
I know sleep is not going to come.
Whenever my mind refused to calm down, I always ended up doing the same thing. Since childhood, I had a habit of writing everything inside a diary. Every exhausting day, every achievement, every mistake, every thought I couldn't say aloud somehow found its way onto those pages.
I slowly opened the bedside drawer, took the diary out along with a pen, again sat one edge of bed.

Today's date.
Then everything that had happened from morning until now.
Every little thing.
My pen suddenly stopped moving.
I had unknowingly reached the moment when he kissed my cheek.
Without realizing it... A small smile appeared on my lips.
I stared at those few lines for a few seconds before lightly shaking my head at myself.
"I hate this.. i hate this" I mumbled before continuing to write.
But truly i hate? Or just conveniencing myself?
A few more pages later, I finally closed the diary and carefully placed it back inside the drawer.
My eyes naturally wandered toward him.
He was still sleeping in the same position.
His brows were slightly knitted even in his sleep as though his body couldn't relax on that small couch.
I stayed there watching him for another minute before quietly standing up.
Slowly, I walked toward him. For a moment, I simply stood infront of the couch.
Then my fingers gently brushed against his cheek.
It was cold.
My hand naturally moved to his forehead.
There was no fever.
Only then did the tightness inside my chest ease a little.
At least you are okay.
I looked at the narrow couch before looking back at him.
Without thinking any further, I bent down and carefully slid one arm beneath his knees while the other supported his back.
I slowly lifted him into my arms.
It was my first time carrying him and he was not heavy at all.
Even in his sleep, he instinctively leaned closer, his head resting against my shoulder as though his body still remembered the place it used to find comfort.
My heart.
I carefully carried him to the bed before gently laying him down, making sure not to disturb his sleep. Pulling the blanket over him, I tucked it around his body before switching off the last bedside lamp.
Only after making sure he was comfortable did I lie down on the other side of the bed.
The moment my back touched the mattress, he shifted in his sleep.
Before I could even react, he quietly moved closer until his forehead rested against my chest. His free arm slowly wrapped around my waist, hugging me with the same unconscious habit he had years ago.
He wasn't awake. He didn't know what he was doing.
Yet... His body still remembered me.
Why do you always make it so difficult to hate you...?
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