Morning arrived quietly, wrapped in soft grey light that filtered through the curtains of Sophie's apartment. The city outside was already awake — distant traffic humming, footsteps echoing faintly along the street below, life moving forward without pause.
Sophie opened her eyes slowly.
For a moment, she did not move.
Her mind was clear, steady — yet somewhere beneath that calm, something stirred. Not anxiety. Not fear. Just a quiet awareness she could not fully ignore.
Her second day.
She rose, prepared calmly, and stepped into the morning air with the same composed expression she always carried. The city felt familiar now — less distant than yesterday, less foreign. Yet certain corners, certain sounds, still brushed faintly against memories she had long kept buried.
---
Seojin General Hospital was already in motion when she arrived. Nurses moved briskly through corridors, voices low but urgent, monitors beeping steadily — the controlled rhythm of medicine that Sophie knew so well.
Inside the emergency department, the pace was faster than yesterday.
"Dr. Huo, trauma incoming — five minutes!" a nurse called.
Sophie nodded calmly, already moving.
Her mind shifted instantly into focus — clear, precise, grounded. The emotional weight she carried outside these walls disappeared the moment she stepped into her role. Here, she knew exactly who she was.
The patient arrived — a middle-aged man, semi-conscious, breathing unevenly.
"Vitals dropping," a nurse reported.
"Prepare oxygen. Monitor blood pressure. Start IV," Sophie said, her voice steady and controlled.
Her movements were smooth, efficient — no hesitation, no panic. Even in urgency, she carried quiet composure that steadied the room around her.
Minutes passed in focused motion.
Then—
"Vitals stabilizing."
A breath, slow and controlled, left her chest.
Another patient safe.
---
Later, during a brief lull, Sophie stepped into the corridor. The fluorescent lights above cast long, pale reflections across polished floors. The hospital smelled faintly of antiseptic and warmth — a strange but familiar comfort.
"You handled that well."
Sophie turned.
One of the senior nurses smiled at her kindly. "Second day, right? Most new doctors panic under pressure. You didn't."
Sophie gave a small nod. "Thank you."
"You'll do well here," the nurse said before returning to her duties.
Sophie watched her go, then turned toward the window at the end of the hall.
Outside, the city stretched endlessly — familiar rooftops, distant towers, the faint shimmer of the Han River beneath pale daylight.
She should have felt settled.
And yet—
A memory surfaced.
Not from England.
From here.
A younger version of herself running through hospital corridors, laughing softly, a tall boy walking beside her — steady, quiet, always close.
Harley.
Sophie blinked, the memory dissolving as quickly as it came.
Five years had passed.
Why did some things still feel so near?
---
That evening, Amy found her in the staff lounge, sitting quietly with a cup of untouched tea.
"You're thinking again," Amy said, dropping into the chair across from her.
"I'm resting."
Amy raised an eyebrow. "That's your polite version of thinking too much."
Sophie didn't argue.
Amy studied her for a moment, then asked gently, "You remembered something today, didn't you?"
Sophie's fingers tightened slightly around the warm cup.
"…Yes."
"About England?"
Sophie shook her head slowly.
Amy understood immediately.
"About him."
Silence settled between them — not heavy, but careful.
"I thought coming back would feel different," Sophie said quietly. "But some memories… they don't fade the way you expect."
Amy's voice softened. "You grew up together. Some bonds don't disappear, no matter how far you go."
Sophie didn't respond.
Because she knew Amy was right.
---
After work, Sophie chose to walk home instead of driving. The evening air was cool, the sky fading into soft shades of violet and gold. Streetlights flickered on one by one, illuminating familiar streets she had once walked countless times.
Everything felt unchanged.
The small café at the corner.
The quiet bookstore across the street.
The narrow road leading toward the river.
She stopped briefly, her gaze drifting across the surroundings.
Memories layered themselves silently — laughter, footsteps, quiet conversations from years ago.
For a moment, she almost expected to hear his voice beside her.
But there was only silence.
Sophie exhaled slowly and continued walking.
---
That night, her apartment felt less unfamiliar.
She placed her bag down, changed, and stood by the window once more. The city lights shimmered across the darkness, alive and steady.
She had returned.
She had begun again.
Her life was moving forward.
Yet somewhere deep inside, something remained unresolved — a quiet thread tied to a past she had never fully left behind.
Her phone buzzed softly.
Amy: Dinner tomorrow? Nina wants to see you again.
A faint warmth touched Sophie's chest.
Sophie: Of course.
She set the phone down and looked out at the city one last time before turning away.
Unseen by her, somewhere within that same city, the past had already begun to stir.
And though Sophie did not know it yet…
The distance she had carefully maintained for five years was slowly, quietly, beginning to close.