The hospital corridors felt colder than usual.
Perhaps it was because she had barely slept.
Or perhaps it was because her mother's anniversary had left a heaviness she couldn't shake.
She tightened her grip on her bag and continued toward the elevator.
Then she heard a familiar voice.
"Seo-ah."
Her entire body froze.
Slowly, she turned around.
Lee Hyun-woo stood a few steps away.
For a moment, neither moved.
The sight of him felt strange.
Once, he had been the person she called home.
Now he looked like a stranger wearing a familiar face.
"What are you doing here?" she asked quietly.
His jaw tightened.
"We need to talk."
"I don't think we do."
She tried to walk away.
His hand wrapped around her wrist.
"Seo-ah."
Before she could react, he led her toward the emergency stairwell and up to the rooftop.
The cold wind hit her face immediately.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Hyun-woo finally turned toward her.
"Why didn't you abort it?"
The question hit harder than she expected.
Seo-ah instinctively placed a hand over her stomach.
His expression darkened.
"You can't even take care of yourself."
"Hyun-woo….."
"No."
He laughed bitterly.
"For once, listen."
The anger in his voice startled her.
Not because he was shouting.
Because he sounded exhausted.
"I always wondered why you kept asking why I left."
His eyes met hers.
"Have you ever asked yourself why I stayed as long as I did?"
Seo-ah felt her throat tighten.
"Every day felt like a test."
His voice grew quieter.
"If I didn't answer immediately, something was wrong."
"If I wanted time alone, something was wrong."
"If I was tired, something was wrong."
He looked away.
"You were always waiting for me to leave."
The wind swept across the rooftop.
Neither moved.
"I spent years proving I loved you."
His laugh held no humor.
"And somehow it was never enough."
Seo-ah felt tears gathering.
"I was scared."
"I know."
The answer came immediately.
Too immediately.
That hurt more.
Hyun-woo ran a hand through his hair.
"I know where that fear came from."
For the first time, his anger seemed to crack.
"I knew about the orphanage."
"I knew about your parents."
"I knew about all of it."
His voice dropped.
"And I tried."
The words carried genuine pain.
"I really tried."
Seo-ah lowered her head.
"Then why did you leave?"
The question came out as a whisper.
Hyun-woo closed his eyes.
For a moment, he looked tired.
Just tired.
"When someone spends years expecting you to leave…"
He swallowed.
"Eventually you start wondering if they ever believed you stayed."
Seo-ah couldn't breathe.
"You were so afraid I'd abandon you…"
His voice broke slightly.
"…that you never realized how lonely I was becoming too."
The tears she'd been holding back finally fell.
Hyun-woo stared at her.
Then looked away.
"The truth?"
His smile was bitter.
"I didn't leave because you were impossible to love."
Seo-ah looked up.
"I left because I stopped recognizing who we were."
The silence that followed felt unbearable.
For a moment, it seemed like he wanted to say something else.
Something softer.
Something kinder.
But he didn't.
Instead, he stepped back.
"I hope you figure things out."
Then he turned and walked away.
Leaving her alone on the rooftop.
Again.
Seo-ah didn't know how long she stood there.
Only that eventually her knees gave out.
And she sank to the ground.
The tears wouldn't stop.
Because the worst part wasn't that Hyun-woo had hurt her.
The worst part was that part of her believed him.
Maybe not all of it.
But enough.
Enough to make it hurt.
When she finally arrived at Ji-hoon's office, she looked composed.
At least she thought she did.
The moment Ji-hoon saw her, he stood.
Something in his expression changed immediately.
"Seo-ah."
She looked away.
"I'm fine."
The lie lasted less than a second.
Ji-hoon walked around his desk.
"What happened?"
She shook her head.
The tears returned before she could stop them.
"Seo-ah."
Her chest tightened.
The pain felt physical.
Like something squeezing her heart.
Ji-hoon crouched in front of her chair.
Not as a doctor.
Not as a surgeon.
Just as Ji-hoon.
"What happened?" he asked softly.
And suddenly all the strength she'd been holding together shattered.
"It hurts."
Her voice cracked.
She pressed a hand against her chest.
"It hurts."
The tears streamed down her face.
"I thought it wouldn't anymore."
A sob escaped.
"But it does."
Ji-hoon didn't interrupt.
Didn't offer advice.
Didn't tell her everything would be okay.
Instead, he gently pulled her into his arms.
And for the first time since the rooftop—
She stopped trying to be strong.
"It hurts so much."
Her voice broke completely.
Ji-hoon held her a little tighter.
And quietly, as if speaking to a wound instead of a person, he whispered:
"I know."
Because he did.
Not her pain.
Not her marriage.
But the feeling of being left behind by someone you thought would stay.
And sometimes that was enough.