Seung-joon lay still, his eyes fixed on the sterile white ceiling of the hospital room. Though his gaze was blank, his mind drifted far from the pale walls around him. His thoughts wandered to Min-jun—those quiet moments they had shared now echoing like distant memories.
Recently, Seung-joon had caught a glimpse of Min-jun on television, standing beside his father at formal events. He looked thinner, more delicate than Seung-joon remembered. Something about his posture, the way his suit hung on his frame, made Seung-joon's heart twist.
But it was the smile that struck him most—not real, not warm, but tight and practiced, stretched for the benefit of cameras. That image stayed with Seung-joon, pressing down on his chest, deepening the ache he had tried so hard to forget.
The hospital door opened without a sound, but the faint shift in air was enough to catch Seung-joon's attention. His eyes moved slowly toward the entrance—and widened in quiet surprise.
