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“Take me to H Hospital in Mokwondong.”
As Sa-hee gave the destination, the taxi smoothly pulled away. The speed increased, and the scenery outside blurred into streaks before vanishing behind them.
Sa-hee clutched her bag tightly, sinking deeper into the seat. Everything still felt surreal and unbelievable—meeting Ji-hyuk again and returning two years into the past.
The whirlwind of events left her anxious. Leaving Ji-hyuk after just seeing him made her heart race. If everything disappeared like a mirage again, she wasn’t sure she could endure it this time.
Lost in thought, Sa-hee sighed deeply as the taxi driver turned up the radio volume. A strange, unfamiliar voice began murmuring in an unknown language—neither English, Chinese, nor Spanish. It was something entirely foreign to her.
Just as she considered asking the driver to lower the volume, she realized they were nearing the hospital and decided to bear with it.
“How’s your trip going?”
The sudden question startled her. Confused, she glanced at the rearview mirror, locking eyes with the driver. Something about those almond-shaped, darkened eyes felt familiar.
“I’m just checking if you have any regrets about your choice.”
“What do you mean…?”
“Well, it must be overwhelming since this journey has only just begun.”
The distinct shape of those eyes triggered a memory. Furrowing her brow, Sa-hee finally recognized the driver.
“You!”
It was the same man she had met in the pouring rain on the day of Ji-hyuk’s funeral.
At that moment, the taxi arrived at the hospital entrance and came to a stop.
“I hope you have no regrets.”
“Wait! I have something to ask you!”
Before she could say more, Sa-hee found herself standing outside the taxi. As she reached to knock on the window, the car sped off.
Without hesitation, Sa-hee chased after it, but soon she stopped, panting heavily. No matter how fast she ran, catching up to a moving vehicle was impossible.
Who was he? Why was he helping her? Was he some kind of guardian angel?
Catching her breath, Sa-hee stared at the retreating taxi. Slowly, certainty began to settle in her mind. This was real—she had truly returned to two years ago. Everything around her was undeniably real.
Meeting the man again at this exact place and time was too coincidental to dismiss. He appeared just as she doubted reality, as if reinforcing the truth. It was as though he was telling her: This is all real. Accept it.
“Ah!”
Lost in thought, Sa-hee tripped over a raised paving stone and fell. Though she caught herself with her hands, avoiding serious injury, her knee was scraped and bleeding.
The wound throbbed painfully as she stood and resumed walking. The persistent discomfort kept her senses sharp.
“...”
The vivid pain felt like a declaration that none of this was a dream. Sa-hee stopped abruptly and looked around.
Everything seemed perfectly normal—the sunlight scattering across the street, people bustling by, rows of green trees lining the sidewalks. The white hospital building stood unchanged, and nearby shops showed no signs of distortion or supernatural phenomena. Yet, why? How?
People often described such inexplicable personal experiences with one word: “miracle.”
So Sa-hee decided to reframe her thoughts. This event, unique to her, was both a clear reality and a miracle bestowed upon her by fate.
A gentle breeze lifted her hair, solidifying her resolve.
Yoon Sa-hee would embrace this miracle wholeheartedly.
---
Seeing her mother lying pale and frail on the hospital bed brought home the stark reality of the situation. There was no way this could feel so vivid unless it were real.
Sa-hee gently smoothed her mother’s rough hands and exhaled deeply.
“Are you the patient’s guardian?”
“Yes.”
“The patient collapsed at…”
“Ilmundong intersection, right?”
Surprised by Sa-hee’s preemptive answer, the nurse gave her a puzzled look. Of course, Sa-hee already knew this from her past experience, but she didn’t elaborate.
“It’s mild anemia and dehydration. Once the IV is done, she can leave.”
“Thank you.”
After delivering the instructions, the nurse checked the IV briefly and left. Sa-hee closed the curtain and took her mother’s hand again. It was lukewarm.
“Mom.”
Calling her name brought a lump to her throat. Unable to cry in front of the patient, Sa-hee struggled to suppress her emotions.
Brushing back her mother’s sweat-dampened hair, Sa-hee recalled the events of two years ago. Back then, she had been even more shocked because it was the first time her mother had collapsed and been rushed to the hospital.
That morning, while Ji-hyuk and Sa-hee were discussing their night together, the hospital called. As Sa-hee hurried out of the room, Ji-hyuk stopped her, escorted her to his car, and drove her to the hospital himself.
Though her mother wouldn’t remember, that day marked the first meeting between Ji-hyuk and her mother. Although Ji-hyuk had left for work before her mother woke up, Sa-hee had always been grateful for his kindness.
But this time was different. She was alone.
“Sa-hee…”
“Mom? Are you awake?”
“What about work? How did you manage to come here?”
Her first words after waking were about work, not her own condition. Frustrated by her mother’s selflessness, Sa-hee’s heart sank.
“Work isn’t the issue right now. See? I told you to quit and rest.”
“I’m still young enough to work. Why should I stop?”
“And look where that got you—collapsing in the street! Thank goodness nothing worse happened. What if you’d hit your head?”
“But I didn’t. I’m fine.”
“Mom.”
“Oh, stop. You’re giving me a headache.”
Watching her mother feign indifference, Sa-hee bit her lip. Even though this was the second time experiencing this, the pain in her heart remained—and perhaps even worsened. Knowing her mother would eventually pass away from such struggles made it harder to bear.
“Goodness, why are you crying? Sa-hee, stop.”
“Please rest. Why else would I run myself ragged? It’s all for us to live well. I’ll take care of you. Don’t you trust me?”
“Do you think I don’t trust you?”
“Then why act like this?”
“I don’t want to see you struggle. I don’t want to burden you. Why can’t you understand my feelings?”
Hearing her mother’s heartfelt words, Sa-hee couldn’t hold back her tears any longer. Sobbing quietly, she buried her face in her arms. Her mother weakly reached out to pat her head.
“Go back to work. That’s what will put my mind at ease.”
When Sa-hee lifted her tear-soaked face, her phone rang. At her mother’s urging nod, she reluctantly checked the screen.
[Shin Ji-hyuk, Executive Director]
Her breath quickened with emotion.
“Why aren’t you answering?”
“I will. Let me step outside for this call. It’s from the company.”
Sa-hee stepped out of the emergency room and into the waiting area. Finding a quiet corner, she answered the call.
“Hello.”
- “First, tell me why I’m here.”
His voice was low and calm, followed by the sound of gulping water.
To her relief, he sounded indifferent, clearly remembering nothing from the previous night.
“You were too drunk, so I asked Song, the driver, to take you to the hotel. It was late, so going home wasn’t feasible, and your officetel is under renovation.”
Their first night together—how could she forget? Two years later, the memory still lingered vividly.
- “You’re sure Song dropped me off?”
“Yes.”
- “Then what’s this…?”
Ji-hyuk trailed off, sounding uncertain. His tone made Sa-hee tense, prompting her to ask:
“What do you mean, Director?”
- “It looks like a woman’s earring.”
Earring? Sa-hee touched her earlobes alternately. Oh no—one was missing.
- “Was I with someone?”
His languid question carried no particular emotion, but Sa-hee’s heart raced. Should she pretend and claim it was hers?
But something held her back. It wasn’t just embarrassment—it was fear. Fear of entangling herself with him again and facing the inevitable future.
She dreaded reliving the same ending.
“I’m sorry. I’m unaware of this matter.”
A brief silence hung between them.
- “Then there’s nothing we can do.”
“...”
- “Bring me something to wear from home.”
“Yes, understood.”
Click. The call ended abruptly. Sa-hee finally exhaled the breath she’d been holding.
He truly remembered nothing from last night. Unlike two years ago when they had woken up together, this time he was alone. Perhaps that explained his lack of memory. But still…
Though she hadn’t expected much, the disappointment weighed heavily on her.
After staring at the blank screen for a moment, Sa-hee slipped her phone into her pocket. She needed to return to the emergency room and tend to her mother.
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