I opened my eyes after a long night, one I had spent awake, trying to avoid closing my eyelids, until sleep overcame me as it always did.
The first thing my eyes met was the white ceiling, like a land submerged in endless snow. I tilted my head to the left, looking toward the window, waiting for the daily meeting of the two birds so I could tell them about that long night.
I watched the sky—especially that cloud which had turned it gray by its presence—until it disappeared behind the trees and the sky returned to its blue once more. But the two birds did not return as they usually did. I told myself: perhaps they had grown tired of my daily stories.
I turned my head back again, staring at the ceiling, before pressing the button to call the nurse. It didn't take long before she entered the room, wearing the same smile I had seen for years.
Nurse: Gooood morning! How are you? Did you sleep well?
I don't know how she maintains that energy that allows her to enter every day with such a smile, greeting me in that sing-song way that always made me feel nauseous. I had told her more than once to skip that morning routine, but she seemed determined to ignore that.
Rin: Did… cough…anyone come?
Nurse: It's seven o'clock. I don't think anyone will come now. And even if they do, visiting hours haven't started yet. Don't rush—just two more hours and they'll be here.
Nurse: I'm surprised you woke up this early. I even thought something was wrong, so I hurried here. But as it's clear, you're strong as always. And waking up early is a good habit, isn't it?
She kept talking as she checked the medical equipment as part of her daily routine.
It was a question of three words, yet I had forgotten how much she loved to talk.
When she finished checking everything, she sat beside my bed.
Nurse: There won't be breakfast now. You have to wait until nine to get your medication. I don't want the doctor getting upset when he finds out I broke the schedule again, okay?
I let her talk as she pleased, looking back at the window to see if the two birds had come or not. As expected, they hadn't. And despite how much I had complained about their chirping, I wanted to hear them this morning.
Nurse: Hey… are you listening to me?
I turned toward her after realizing they wouldn't appear again.
It wasn't about them. It was about me.
Rin: Maybe they won't make it in time.
Nurse: What?!
Rin: It's just a waste of time… cough…you can send them the results… cough…by phone.
Nurse: Pessimism isn't good. You need to be a little optimistic. We're all optimistic this time. Besides, the doctor himself asked them to come today.
I no longer knew how many times I had had this argument. I had run out of fingers to count them, but nothing ever changed.
Rin: I just hope it's… cough …the last one.
Nurse: Yes, that's the spirit we need. You should trust your strength as we do. Today, your life might change for the be—
Rin: For the worse.
Nurse: Not again?!
For them, positive change simply meant that I stayed alive.
For me, it was just more months added to the existing stockpile, and another burden placed on everyone's shoulders.
Rin: Anyway… cough …can you bring me the book?
The nurse stood up and headed toward the bookshelf beside the window. She stood there for a few seconds before turning back to me.
Nurse: Which one?
Rin: Idol.
She turned back, searching for the book among the massive pile that had kept me alive inside this cocoon, but she searched for a long time without success.
Rin: It's on the top… cough …the cover has a Korean girl on it.
She looked up until she found it, then pointed at it with her finger while asking me. I nodded, but she couldn't reach it, so she came back and took the chair beside me, stood on it, and grabbed the book. She wobbled slightly but managed not to fall.
She extended her hand to grab the book and stepped down from the chair. She let out a long sigh, then carried the chair back and sat beside me again, handing me the book.
Nurse: After all that effort, is it any good?
Rin: I don't know… maybe.
Nurse: Is this your first time?
Rin: No, but… cough…it's still at the beginning.
I opened the book to the first chapter, then looked at the nurse for a while before she noticed my gaze.
Nurse: What?
Rin: I want to read.
Nurse: Oh? …Ah, I see. Well then, I should go. There are other people who need me.
She left the room, and I was alone again.
I opened the book and began to read, chapter after chapter, until I reached the end of the third chapter.
Then I heard a light knock on the door before it opened and the doctor entered.
Doctor: How are you, Rin?
Rin: I feel some pain.
Doctor: Is it the same pain?
He approached, checked the bed, then slowly lifted the blanket. He pressed on different spots on my legs, asking each time whether I felt pain. I answered calmly, one by one.
He put the blanket back, took the medical file, and began murmuring as he reviewed its pages.
I left him to it and returned to my book; only a few lines separated me from its climax.
Doctor: Rin…
Doctor: Rin.
I raised my gaze to find his hand stretched out in front of my face, separating me from the pages.
Doctor: You seem deeply immersed in reading.
Rin: Sorry, I didn't hear you calling me.
Doctor: It's fine. It doesn't matter. Tell me—what do you think?
Rin: Hmm… good, at least as a beginning.
Rin: Is there anything new?
Doctor: I'll change some of the prescribed medications, but after the results come in.
He went back to writing some notes, then glanced at his watch. He closed the file, put it back, and checked everything one last time.
Doctor: I'll go now to make sure the results have arrived.
About half an hour, then it'll be time for breakfast and medication.
When they come… we'll see what happens next.
Before he left, I grabbed the edge of his sleeve.
Rin: I want to ask you for something.
Doctor: Of course. Go ahead.
Rin: Can you tell me the results… before them?
Doctor: You know, Rin, I can't—
Rin: Just this once… please.
He stared into my eyes, silence filling the room. It didn't last long before he answered.
Doctor: I'll try.
I released his sleeve as he turned and left, and I remained alone, finishing my reading.
I finished the chapter, and it was nearly nine when the nurse returned, just like she had in the morning, pushing the breakfast cart.
I ate, then took my medication.
Once I finished, the nurse returned with another one, and they placed me in the wheelchair. I asked them to push me closer to the window while they changed the bedding.
The nurse pushed me to the window. I sat watching the cars come and go, again and again, until they finished cleaning.
Nurse: Do you need anything else?
Rin: Can you turn on the TV?
She turned it on, then they both left.
I remained watching the screen in silence.
The door opened very slowly.
I looked toward it to find my uncle asking permission to enter. I told him to come in.
Uncle: Hello, Rin.
Rin: How are you, Uncle?
Uncle: Fine. And you?
Rin:cough …as you can see, nothing new.
He stood by the door talking to me, keeping a distance that made me lower the TV volume to hear him clearly.
Uncle: Do you know when the results will appear?
Rin: Didn't you see the doctor?
Uncle: No. I couldn't. He was busy, and reception wasn't helpful.
Rin: I don't think they'll be late.
Uncle: Good.
He kept looking around the room while I raised the TV volume again.
We didn't have the kind of relationship that generated endless conversation. I first met my uncle when I was sixteen, after my father's death. I was bedridden then—and still am.
At the time, my uncle became my legal guardian, but that ended when I turned eighteen, about four years ago. After that, our relationship was limited to occasional visits and repetitive, dull conversations.
My uncle is married and has four children. His financial situation isn't good; I could tell from his constant complaints about taxes, transportation, and the rising price of milk.
There was always a feeling that accompanied me:
that my uncle didn't want all of this, and that it was tied to the fortune my father left behind.
Unlike my uncle, my father had owned one of the largest technology companies, and after his death, the company passed to his only son… me.
That feeling grew stronger after my uncle and his wife stopped visiting once I reached legal age. Then he returned to visiting again a year ago.
We heard a knock at the door.
My uncle opened it to find the nurse standing outside. She asked to enter, and he stepped back after his body had been blocking the way. She walked toward me.
Nurse: Rin, ready?
Rin: Yes.
She approached, grabbed the wheelchair handles, and before we left, I turned off the TV. We all exited the room and headed toward the doctor's office.
When we arrived, the nurse told my uncle that the doctor wanted to see me first and that he should wait outside for a bit. Then we entered.
The doctor was staring intently at a file in his hand, so focused he didn't notice us.
Nurse: Doctor?
Doctor: Oh—sorry, sorry. I didn't notice. You can bring him here.
He closed the file. The nurse wheeled me beside his desk, where he gestured. Then he asked her to leave.
Doctor: How are you, Rin?
Rin: A little nervous.
Doctor: I was the same at the beginning of my career. Then I got used to it.
He took a light breath.
Doctor: The results have arrived… they're in this file.
Rin: What are they?
Doctor: Don't rush. I'll tell you.
Rin: Are they bad?
Doctor: I didn't say that. I haven't said anything yet.
He paused, then said:
Doctor: First, I'd like to tell you a story, since I have some time.
Rin: Okay.
Doctor: Have you ever heard of the emperor penguins that live in Antarctica?
Rin: …No.
Doctor: Once, a team of scientists was observing an entire colony. Thousands of penguins moving together, knowing when to go out, when to return, and where to find food. A complete system—everyone doing their role.
But one of them caught the scientists' attention.
The doctor stood up and walked toward the window, partially covered by curtains. He pulled them fully aside and pointed toward the distant mountains on the horizon.
Doctor: It didn't head toward the sea. And it didn't return to the colony.
It turned calmly… and began walking in the opposite direction—toward the mountains.
Rin: The mountains?
Doctor: Toward the continental interior.
No food. No one. No life.
Just a long stretch of white… and certain death.
Rin: Didn't anyone stop it?
Doctor: There was no point. One of the scientists said that even if they grabbed it and forced it back, the moment they let go… it would turn and continue walking in the same direction.
The doctor returned to his desk. He picked up the file, raised it slightly, then set it down without opening it.
Doctor: It didn't want to die.
But… that's life.
Silence filled the room for a moment.
Rin: What happened to it?
Doctor: It never arrived.
It stopped halfway.
The doctor looked directly at me for the first time.
Doctor: Sometimes, the body keeps moving… but the compass inside breaks.
He finally opened the file.
Doctor: Now… let's talk about your results.