Archive of Our Own ^beta

The day had been relentless—Doldam Hospital buzzing with the urgency of patients flooding in, doctors and nurses pushing themselves to their limits to keep up. Kim Sabu finally retreated into his office as the last of the emergency surgeries wrapped up. His body ached, the exhaustion seeping into his bones, but his mind still raced. He was always thinking about what came next, what the hospital needed, what he needed to do.

He shut the door behind him, savoring the quiet, the solitude that his office offered. For a moment, he just stood there, eyes closed, letting the silence wash over him. The hum of the hospital beyond the walls was distant, like a dull echo.

Moving towards the small cabinet by his desk, he pulled out an old, worn cassette tape. It was something he'd kept for years, a piece of the past that never quite lost its hold on him. The label had long faded, but he didn’t need to read it to know what it was— REO Speedwagon . Without a word, he slid the tape into the player and hit play.

The familiar chords of Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore began to fill the room, soft but powerful. He leaned back in his chair, letting the melody drift over him. His eyes fluttered closed again, this time attempting to grab a brief moment of rest. But sleep wouldn’t come. Not with that song. Not with the memories that accompanied it.

The lyrics hit him harder than they should have. He hadn’t listened to this tape in ages, and yet, it felt all too fitting for where his mind was these days. As the chorus swelled, the words clung to him, dragging his thoughts to a place he rarely allowed them to go.

Oh Myung-Sim.

He’d known her for years—ever since Doldam’s early days. Their bond had grown from professional respect to something deeper, something neither of them spoke of. They didn’t need to. But now, as the lyrics whispered in his ear, as his mind replayed their countless interactions, the unspoken feelings between them felt all too heavy to ignore.

“And I’m getting closer than I ever thought I might,” he sang to himself, eyes still shut, the soft melody pushing him into a haze of introspection.

The first flash of memory that came to him was from years ago, when Myung-Sim had just joined Doldam. Kim Sabu could still see her standing in the chaos of the ER, eyes sharp and focused, her hands steady as she navigated through patients. He had been struck by her calm. That day, he had realized she was more than just another nurse—she was someone who could match his relentless drive.

Over the years, they had formed a partnership built on trust, mutual respect, and an unspoken understanding of each other’s sacrifices. She was the one person who could call him out, push him when no one else dared. And yet, there were moments between them that weren’t strictly professional.

He thought back to a late-night shift. The two of them were the last ones in the hospital, both staying well past their hours to make sure everything was in order. He remembered how she had quietly placed a cup of tea on his desk, sitting down across from him without a word.

He hadn’t said anything, but the warmth of her presence, the quiet understanding between them, had felt like more than enough. Moments like that had become their language—a glance, a touch, a silence.

The song played on, the lyrics pulling him deeper into the memories. There had been so many times he wanted to say something, wanted to ask her what these moments meant to her. But he had always held back. His duty to the hospital, to the patients, always came first.

Always.

But that didn’t stop the feelings from growing.

A soft knock on the door startled Kim Sabu out of his thoughts. His eyes flew open as Oh Myung-Sim stepped into the room, her face as calm and composed as ever. She glanced at the tape player, her eyebrow arching slightly as she recognized the song.

“I didn’t know you still listened to these,” she said, her voice soft but carrying the hint of a smile. 

Kim Sabu shifted in his chair, turning the volume down slightly. “Old habits die hard,” he replied, his voice gruff, masking the sudden thrum of his heartbeat. “You should know that by now.”

She moved further into the room, her steps slow and deliberate. He watched as she took the seat across from him, just like she had done so many times before. There was something comforting about her presence, something steady that always brought him back to center.

“How are you holding up?” she asked, her eyes flicking over him, noticing the weariness in his posture. “You’ve been running yourself ragged.”

He shrugged, not willing to admit how tired he really was. “Same as always. You?”

Her smile was small, almost sad. “Same as always.”

The words hung between them, heavy with a meaning that went beyond their current state of exhaustion. There was so much they never said, so much they chose not to address. But sitting here, with the music still faintly playing in the background, the tension felt palpable. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night,” she began, her voice breaking the silence. “About Doldam. About the future.”

Kim Sabu nodded, though his thoughts were still tangled in the lyrics of the song and the memories of her. “We need to expand if we want to keep up. But it’s not just about growth—it’s about maintaining what we’ve built.”

“I know,” she said softly, her gaze fixed on him in that way that always made him feel exposed. “But it’s not just about the hospital, is it?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. The words were right there on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to tell her that no, it wasn’t just about the hospital. It was about her. About them. About all the things he had never been able to say.

But the years of silence between them held him back.

Kim Sabu’s fingers tapped restlessly against the armrest of his chair. He could feel the weight of her gaze on him, the unspoken question hanging in the air. His mind flashed to all the times he had wanted to say something—anything—that would bridge the growing distance between them, yet the words had always stuck in his throat.

“I never asked you,” he began, his voice low, almost hesitant, “if you ever regretted staying at Doldam.”

Myung-Sim blinked, clearly caught off-guard by the question. Her expression softened as she leaned back in her chair, her gaze never leaving his. There was something almost unreadable in her eyes, a depth of emotion he had never fully allowed himself to explore.

“If I left…” she paused, her voice quiet, “…who would look after you?”

Her words were gentle, almost teasing, but they cut through him all the same. Kim Sabu had always prided himself on his independence, his ability to take care of himself and the hospital. But in that moment, he realized just how much he had relied on her over the years—not just for her medical expertise or her calm in the storm, but for the way she had quietly become his anchor.

He swallowed hard, unable to respond. Myung-Sim must have sensed his inner turmoil, because she gave him a small, knowing smile. She had always been able to read him like a book, even when he tried to keep his emotions hidden beneath the surface.

Silence settled between them once more, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence they had grown accustomed to over the years—the kind that spoke volumes without needing any words at all.

The song on the cassette tape began to fade out, leaving only the faint hum of the player and the soft buzz of the hospital beyond the door. Kim Sabu’s hand, resting on the armrest of his chair, twitched slightly, as if debating whether or not to reach out. He wanted to—he wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, how much he needed her not just as a colleague, but as something more.

But he couldn’t.

Instead, he did something he rarely did—he let his vulnerability show. Reaching across the desk, he placed his hand gently over hers. It was a simple gesture, but in the context of their relationship, it felt monumental.

Myung-Sim’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she didn’t pull away. She stared at their hands for a moment before meeting his gaze again. There was something unspoken between them, something that neither of them needed to say aloud.

They both knew.

The following days at Doldam were both the same and different. On the surface, everything carried on as usual—patients came and went, surgeries were performed, crises were managed. But beneath the surface, there was a subtle shift between Kim Sabu and Myung-Sim.

Their interactions were filled with a new kind of tension, one that neither of them acknowledged but both of them felt. A brush of hands while passing medical charts, a lingering glance across the hall—these small, almost insignificant moments had taken on new meaning.

Kim Sabu found himself more aware of her presence than ever before. In the past, she had always been there—a constant, steady force in the chaos of the hospital. But now, every time she entered the room, his heart seemed to skip a beat. He hated the way his emotions were getting the best of him, but there was no denying it anymore.

It wasn’t just admiration or respect. It was something deeper.

He could see it in the way her eyes softened when she looked at him, the way her voice lowered when they spoke in private. She wasn’t just the head nurse; she wasn’t just his trusted confidant. She was someone who had quietly slipped past his defenses, and now he couldn’t imagine the hospital—his life—without her.

One evening, after another long day, Kim Sabu found himself sitting outside the hospital by the lake, the cool night air filling his lungs. Myung-Sim sat beside him, her arms crossed as she stared out into the moonlit lake. They often ended their days like this, sitting in comfortable silence, taking a moment to breathe before heading home.

But tonight, something felt different.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” she remarked, her voice cutting through the stillness.

Kim Sabu glanced at her, unsure how to respond. He wasn’t one for small talk, and Myung-Sim knew that. But there was something about her tone tonight that told him she was digging for something more.

“I’ve just been thinking,” he said after a pause. His gaze shifted to the stars above, the distant glimmer of the lake flickering in the horizon. “About the hospital. About what comes next.”

She nodded, her expression unreadable. “And what comes next?”

Kim Sabu hesitated. He could give her the same answer he always did—that the hospital needed more resources, more staff, that his focus was on the future of Doldam. But that wasn’t the whole truth, and they both knew it.

Instead, he surprised himself by saying, “I’m not sure.”

Myung-Sim’s gaze snapped to his, her eyes searching his face for an explanation. Kim Sabu had always been certain, always knew what the next step was. For him to admit uncertainty—it was rare. It was vulnerable.

“Not sure about what?” she asked, her voice softer now, her curiosity piqued.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned to face her fully, his hands slipping into the pockets of his coat. “About… a lot of things,” he finally said. “About what I want. About what I’ve been avoiding.”

The confession hung in the air between them, and for the first time in a long time, Kim Sabu didn’t try to hide behind his usual stoicism. He let her see the uncertainty, the conflict, the emotion that had been building inside him for longer than he cared to admit.

Myung-Sim didn’t press him for more. She just sat there, watching him with that same patient expression she always wore when she knew he needed time to sort through his thoughts. But there was something else in her eyes tonight—something that told him she understood exactly what he was struggling with.

“You don’t have to figure everything out at once, you know,” she said quietly. “Some things take time.”

Her words, though simple, struck a chord within him. He nodded, grateful for her understanding. She had always been like that—never pushing, never demanding more than he was ready to give.

But as they stood there in the quiet of the night, Kim Sabu couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out. For too long, he had let his feelings simmer beneath the surface, too afraid to disrupt the delicate balance they had created.

And now, sitting here beside her, he realized that if he didn’t act soon, he might lose the chance to ever tell her how he truly felt.

Days passed, but the tension between Kim Sabu and Oh Myung-Sim lingered, like a storm brewing beneath the surface. Every interaction, every shared glance, carried a weight that hadn’t been there before, and neither of them seemed willing to acknowledge it.

It was a quiet evening at Doldam, the halls unusually still after the storm of patients that had swept through earlier in the day. Kim Sabu found himself alone in the office once again, his hands idly flipping through patient files. But his mind wasn’t on the hospital, not tonight.

He glanced at the cassette player on the desk, the familiar REO Speedwagon tape sitting beside it. The song had been haunting him ever since that night—reminding him of everything he hadn’t said, of everything he had tried so hard to bury. He hesitated for a moment before pressing play once again.

The soft melody filled the room, the familiar lyrics wrapping around him like a blanket. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as the song washed over him.

And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight, you're a candle in the window on a cold, dark winter’s night…

The lyrics tugged at something deep inside him, pulling at the thoughts he had tried so hard to avoid. Thoughts of Myung-Sim, of the way she looked at him, the way her presence brought him a sense of calm he couldn’t find anywhere else.

His mind wandered back to that night outside the hospital—the way she had looked at him with quiet understanding, the way she had told him that some things took time. But how much time did he have left to figure this out? How long could he keep pretending that everything between them was still the same?

The door to his office creaked open, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked up to see Myung-Sim standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable.

“You’re still here,” she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of surprise.

Kim Sabu sat up straighter, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her. “I could say the same to you.”

She stepped into the room, her eyes flicking toward the cassette player. A small smile played on her lips as she recognized the song. “You really are a creature of habit, aren’t you?”

Kim Sabu didn’t respond right away. Instead, he watched her as she moved to stand beside his desk, the soft glow of the desk lamp casting shadows on her face. There was something different about her tonight, something in the way she was looking at him that made his heart race.

“I can’t help it,” he finally said, his voice low. “Some things are hard to let go of.”

Myung-Sim’s gaze lingered on him for a moment before she sat down across from him, just like she had done so many times before. But this time, the space between them felt charged, as if the weight of all their unspoken words was finally starting to press down on them.

“Kim Sabu,” she began, her voice steady but soft. “I’ve been thinking about what you said that night. About what you’re not sure of.”

He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling like the air in the room had thickened. This was it. The moment he had been dreading and longing for at the same time.

“I don’t have all the answers,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve spent so many years focused on this hospital, on the patients, on everything but…”

His words trailed off, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the music playing softly in the background. Myung-Sim didn’t say anything, but her eyes were fixed on him, waiting.

Kim Sabu took a deep breath, his hands gripping the edge of the desk as if he were bracing himself for a fall. “But lately, I’ve been wondering if I’ve been avoiding something—someone.”

He didn’t need to say her name. They both knew who he was talking about.

The silence that followed was heavy, but Myung-Sim didn’t look away. Instead, she reached across the desk, her hand brushing against his in a gesture that was both familiar and intimate. Her touch was soft, tentative, but it sent a jolt through him all the same.

“You’re not the only one who’s been avoiding things,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her words.

Kim Sabu’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected her to admit it, hadn’t expected her to be so open about the feelings they had both been dancing around for so long.

“You’ve always been there,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Always steady, always supporting me. I’ve relied on you more than I ever should have, and I never… I never told you how much that meant to me. How much * you* mean to me.”

The confession felt raw, like he was exposing a part of himself he had kept hidden for too long. But as the words left his mouth, he felt a strange sense of relief, as if a weight he hadn’t even realized he was carrying had finally been lifted.

Myung-Sim’s eyes softened, and she squeezed his hand gently. “I’ve always known, Kim Sabu. You never had to say it.”

Her words hit him like a wave, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at her. How had she always known? How had she understood what he had been too afraid to admit, even to himself?

But of course she knew. Myung-Sim had always seen through him, always known what he was thinking, even when he didn’t say a word.

“I didn’t want to complicate things,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t want to risk what we have.”

“Arayo,” she replied softly. “But maybe it’s time to stop avoiding it.”

Kim Sabu’s chest tightened at her words. She was right. He had spent so long running from his feelings, from the truth of what they were to each other. But maybe it was time to stop running.

He looked into her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he let himself imagine what it would be like to stop hiding, to let the walls between them fall.

“I don’t know what happens next,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want to keep pretending like nothing’s changed.”

Myung-Sim smiled, a soft, understanding smile that made his heart ache. “Neither do I.”

They sat there in the quiet of the office, the music still playing softly in the background, their hands still touching across the desk. It wasn’t a grand confession, it wasn’t a dramatic moment of realization. But it was enough. It was real. And for the first time in years, Kim Sabu felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

The days that followed were a quiet, unspoken shift between them. They didn’t make any grand declarations, didn’t change the way they worked together. But there was a new understanding in the air, a subtle shift in the way they moved around each other.

Kim Sabu found himself more at ease around her, more willing to let his guard down. He still wasn’t sure what this new chapter between them would look like, but he knew one thing for certain—he didn’t want to lose her.

The room was dim, lit only by the small desk lamp on Kim Sabu’s cluttered desk. Outside, the hospital quieted as the last few patients were discharged, but inside Kim Sabu’s office, the air was charged with an unspoken tension.

Myung-Sim stood near the door, her arms crossed, watching him with the same look she had for years—a mixture of admiration, frustration, and something else, something she had never allowed herself to name. Kim Sabu, on the other hand, was lost in thought, pacing back and forth in front of his desk, his mind clearly elsewhere.

The cassette tape player on the shelf hummed softly, but the music—REO Speedwagon’s "I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore"—seemed almost ironic to Myung-Sim now. She had spent years watching him push her away, both of them pretending that there was nothing more between them than professional respect and old friendship. But deep down, they both knew better.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. "Kim Sabu," she said, her voice breaking the silence.

He stopped pacing, turning to look at her. His eyes, always so sharp and calculating in the operating room, were softer now, tired but alert, as if he’d been waiting for this moment just as much as she had.

"You’re exhausted," she said, stepping forward cautiously, her voice steady despite the emotions churning inside her. "You can’t keep doing this to yourself—carrying all of this on your own."

Kim Sabu sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You know me better than anyone, Myung-Sim. I’ve never known how to share the burden."

Her breath caught in her throat. It was rare for him to acknowledge how much she meant to him, but every time he did, it shook her. She moved closer, until she was standing just a few feet away from him, close enough to feel the heat from his body, close enough to sense the turmoil behind his words.

"Maybe it’s time you learned," she said softly.

Kim Sabu’s eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment, neither of them moved. It felt like the entire world had slowed down around them, leaving only the two of them in this small office, where years of unspoken feelings seemed to fill the air like a heavy fog.

"Myung-Sim…" His voice trailed off, as if he wanted to say more but didn’t know how. His hand twitched at his side, as if he was about to reach for her but stopped himself.

It was always like this with them—so close, yet never crossing the line. But tonight, something was different. There was a fragility to this moment, and Myung-Sim knew that if they didn’t say what needed to be said now, they never would.

"You don’t have to be so strong all the time, you know," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She took another step closer, and before she could think better of it, she gently reached out and touched his arm. "Not with me."

Kim Sabu's eyes fluttered shut, and his grip on the armrest of his chair tightened as he felt her hand on his arm. He could barely contain the emotions that swirled within him—fear, vulnerability, and a deep longing for connection that he had never allowed himself to fully acknowledge.

"Myung-Sim..." he murmured, his voice trembling with emotion. With a deep breath, he released his grip and, reaching out, he gently took her hand in his, the warmth of her skin contrasting with the coldness of the room.

"I've tried to keep you at arm's length for so long," he admitted, his gaze never leaving hers. "But I can't keep doing this." He hesitated, searching her face for a sign that she felt the same.

"We can't keep pretending, Myung-Sim," he said, a hint of pleading in his voice. "Let's give this a chance. Let's let each other in."

The moment hung in the air, their breaths mingling as they faced this turning point in their lives. Their hearts pounded in unison, both of them knowing that whatever they decided in that moment would shape the course of their lives. And as Myung-Sim looked into Kim Sabu's eyes, she saw not just a colleague, a friend, or a partner in crime, but a man who needed her, who craved her, and who would be lost without her.

Myung-Sim’s heart pounded in her chest. She could feel the warmth of his skin through his sleeve, and it sent a shiver through her, a reminder of just how long she had been holding back her own feelings.

They stood like that for what felt like an eternity—neither of them moving, neither of them speaking. The only sound was the soft hum of the cassette tape and the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall.

Then, almost imperceptibly, Kim Sabu leaned in.

It was so subtle, so careful, that Myung-Sim wasn’t even sure it was happening at first. His face was inches from hers, and she could feel his breath against her skin, warm and tentative. Her heart raced, but she didn’t move away. She couldn’t.

As their faces drew closer, Kim Sabu's heart threatened to leap from his chest. It was like the air around them had suddenly thinned, leaving only the two of them in this bubble of intimacy and uncertainty.

In that fleeting moment, before their lips met, Kim Sabu's mind raced through a thousand thoughts: what it would mean, where this would lead, and how their lives would change. But as he stared into Myung-Sim's eyes, he knew one thing for certain - he couldn't hold back any longer.

Their lips met, a soft, gentle press that sent a jolt of desire through both of them. It was as if, in that moment, the invisible wall that had separated them for so long shattered, and they were finally free to explore the depths of their connection.

It wasn’t dramatic or rushed. It was soft, tentative—a brief, delicate brush of his lips against hers, as if he wasn’t sure he had the right to kiss her but couldn’t stop himself. Myung-Sim’s eyes fluttered shut, and for a moment, she forgot everything—Doldam, the hospital, the years of restraint. There was only this kiss, gentle but filled with everything they had never been able to say.

Their lips parted slightly, and Kim Sabu could feel the warmth and the softness of Myung-Sim's breath on his lips. For a moment, time seemed to freeze as they continued to explore the tender, new territory, discovering in each other the missing pieces that would finally complete them both.

Kim Sabu pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, his breathing unsteady. "I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I shouldn’t have…"

Myung-Sim shook her head, her hand tightening on his arm. "Don’t apologize," she murmured, her voice soft but firm. "Don’t ever apologize."

He let out a shaky breath, his hands still resting gently on her shoulders. They stood there, neither of them speaking, their foreheads still touching, as if moving apart would break the fragile connection they had just made.

Finally, Kim Sabu spoke again, his voice quiet and filled with uncertainty. "I don’t know where we go from here."

Myung-Sim’s lips curled into a small, bittersweet smile. "Neither do I," she admitted. "But we’ll figure it out. Just like always."

Kim Sabu nodded, his grip on her tightening ever so slightly. He didn’t have all the answers—he never had. But for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t facing the unknown alone.

The day at Doldam Hospital started like any other, but to Kim Sabu, everything felt different. He sat at his desk, reviewing patient charts, but his mind kept drifting back to last night—the softness of Myung-Sim’s lips, the quiet intensity of their kiss, and the way she hadn’t pulled away. It had been so natural, so unforced, as if they’d been waiting for years to reach that moment.

As he stood to make his rounds, the usual hum of the hospital surrounded him, doctors and nurses moving swiftly through the halls. But it was when he caught a glimpse of Myung-Sim across the room, calmly giving instructions to a nurse, that his heart skipped a beat. He paused for a moment, watching her.

She was always so composed, always so sure of herself. Her calm strength had been a constant for him over the years. But now, there was something else between them—an unspoken acknowledgment of what had happened, and perhaps what was still to come.

Myung-Sim must have felt his gaze on her, because she looked up, meeting his eyes with a small, private smile. It was barely noticeable to anyone else, but for him, it was everything. A quiet reassurance. She wasn’t regretting anything. Neither was he.

But in typical Kim Sabu fashion, he couldn’t linger on the moment for too long. He gave her a subtle nod, his way of acknowledging the shared memory, before continuing his rounds. After all, there was still work to be done.

Later that evening, after another long day, Myung-Sim found herself once again in Kim Sabu’s office. This had become their routine, in a way—a place where they could escape the chaos of the hospital, even if just for a few minutes. Tonight, however, the atmosphere felt different. It wasn’t just the usual post-shift exhaustion that hung in the air. It was the weight of everything that had happened between them the night before.

Kim Sabu sat at his desk, nursing a cup of coffee. He looked up as she entered, offering her a tired but genuine smile. "Busy day," he said simply, his voice rough from a long shift.

Myung-Sim nodded, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. "Aren’t they all?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "True."

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence. It wasn’t awkward, but it was loaded with the things they weren’t yet ready to say. Myung-Sim’s thoughts swirled in her mind—about the kiss, about what it meant, and about whether they would ever talk about it.

"Kim Sabu," she said quietly after a long pause, her voice breaking the stillness. "About last night..."

He didn’t look up, but she could see his posture stiffen slightly. "Yes?"

She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "I don’t want things to change between us. Not at work, not here. I just… don’t want us to pretend it didn’t happen either."

Kim Sabu finally looked up, his eyes soft but serious. "I don’t either," he said, his voice steady. "I meant what I said, Myung-Sim. I’ve been holding back for too long."

Her breath caught, the raw honesty of his words surprising her. Kim Sabu was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve, yet here he was, telling her exactly what she needed to hear.

"I’ve always respected you too much to cross that line," he continued, his voice quieter now. "But now that we have… I don’t know how to go back. And maybe, I don’t want to."

The admission was startling in its vulnerability. Myung-Sim felt her chest tighten, her emotions swirling between relief and uncertainty. Kim Sabu had never been one to express his feelings openly, yet here he was, laying it bare for her to see.

"I don’t want to go back either," she admitted softly, her eyes never leaving his. "But we have to be careful. This… whatever this is between us, it’s complicated. The hospital, the people…"

"I know," Kim Sabu interrupted gently, understanding her hesitation. "We’ll take it slow. We’ve waited this long, haven’t we?"

Myung-Sim smiled, a small, almost bittersweet smile. "Yes, we have."

There was a pause, and then, in a move so typical of Kim Sabu, he changed the subject. "Have you eaten?"

Myung-Sim blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden shift. "No, not yet. You?"

He stood up from his desk, stretching his arms. "Let’s go find something. I’m starving."

And just like that, the moment was over—not erased, but gently put aside for another time. Kim Sabu’s way of saying they didn’t have to rush into anything. They had time. After all, they always did.

The staff break room was quiet when they arrived, the usual hustle of the day long since quieted. They settled into the couches in the center of the room, trays of simple food in front of them. Neither said much as they ate, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that came with knowing someone so well that words weren’t necessary.

As Kim Sabu reached for his cup of coffee, Myung-Sim watched him, the weight of the last few days catching up with her. She had always admired his resilience—his ability to carry the hospital on his shoulders, even when it was falling apart around him. But now, seeing him in this quiet moment, she realized just how much of himself he had given up over the years.

"You should rest more," she said softly, breaking the silence.

Kim Sabu raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. "You’re one to talk."

Myung-Sim smiled, shaking her head. "I’m serious. You can’t keep running yourself into the ground like this. The hospital… it needs you at your best."

He leaned back in his chair, considering her words. "And what about you?" he asked quietly. "You’ve been here just as long as I have, pushing yourself just as hard."

"I’m fine," she said quickly, but the look in his eyes told her he didn’t believe her. "I mean it, Kim Sabu. I’m fine."

He studied her for a moment, then nodded slowly. "If you say so."

They lapsed back into silence, but this time, there was an unspoken understanding between them. They were both pushing themselves too hard, both too dedicated to the hospital and to each other to admit when they needed to take a step back. It was something they would have to learn—together.

The days continued, and though neither of them said it out loud, there was a shift in the air between Kim Sabu and Myung-Sim. Their conversations were softer, more personal, with touches of tenderness that hadn’t been there before. There was a comfort now in their shared silence, in the glances that lingered a little too long, in the brief touches that spoke more than words ever could.

In the operating room, they were as efficient as ever, working together with the ease of years spent by each other’s side. But when they were alone, the tension between them simmered just beneath the surface, always present but never fully addressed.

It wasn’t that they were avoiding it—they were simply allowing it to unfold in its own time. After all, after years of silence, what was a little more time?

One evening, as the hospital quieted for the night, Myung-Sim found herself once again in Kim Sabu’s office. This time, she didn’t hesitate before entering, and when she saw him sitting at his desk, lost in thought, she couldn’t help but smile.

"Long day?" she asked softly, leaning against the doorframe.

He looked up, a tired smile crossing his face. "Aren’t they all?"

She crossed the room, sitting in the chair across from him, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. It was a familiar routine by now—these quiet moments at the end of the day, just the two of them.

But tonight, as the silence stretched on, Kim Sabu broke it with words she hadn’t expected.

Kim Sabu leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. His thoughts seemed heavy, weighed down by something beyond the usual stresses of the hospital. Myung-Sim could tell—she knew him well enough to recognize when something was truly bothering him.

"Myung-Sim," he began quietly, his voice low and contemplative. "Do you ever think about what this place would be like without us? What would happen if one day we weren’t here anymore?"

The question took her by surprise. It wasn’t like him to express these kinds of doubts or fears. Kim Sabu was always so steadfast, so certain in his commitment to Doldam Hospital.

"Why are you asking me this now?" she asked, her voice equally quiet, as if she was afraid that speaking too loudly would break the fragile moment between them.

He glanced up at her, his expression soft but serious. "I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. What would happen if I weren’t here to hold things together? And more than that… what happens to us, Myung-Sim, when all of this is over?"

The air between them shifted, growing heavier. It wasn’t the first time Kim Sabu had hinted at something more—something beyond the walls of the hospital—but it was the first time he had put it into words so plainly. Myung-Sim felt her heart rate quicken, unsure of how to respond.

"Are you thinking about finally leaving Doldam to your students?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

He sighed, leaning forward and resting his arms on the desk. "Not leaving. I could never abandon this place. But there are times when I wonder if I’m doing the right thing by staying… by holding on so tightly to something that may not last forever."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Myung-Sim understood, perhaps better than anyone, the weight that Kim Sabu carried—the burden of responsibility he felt for the hospital, for his students, for the staff, for every patient that came through their doors. But there was something else in his words now, something deeper. A fear of losing more than just the hospital.

"What are you really worried about?" she asked, her eyes locking with his.

He looked at her for a long moment before answering, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’m worried about losing you."

The confession hit her like a tidal wave. Kim Sabu was never one to express his emotions so openly, and hearing him admit that fear so plainly left Myung-Sim momentarily speechless. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came.

"You’ve been here with me through everything," he continued, his gaze unwavering. "I’ve leaned on you more times than I can count. And I’ve tried to pretend that I could do this on my own, but the truth is, I can’t. I don’t want to."

Myung-Sim’s heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, the raw honesty of his words. She knew he meant every word—he was baring a part of himself that he rarely let anyone see. And for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to acknowledge her own feelings, the ones she had kept hidden for years.

"You won’t lose me," she said softly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside her. "I’m not going anywhere, Kim Sabu. Not now, not ever."

Her words hung between them, a quiet promise that neither of them had spoken aloud until now.

Kim Sabu exhaled, as if her reassurance had lifted a weight from his shoulders. "You always know what to say," he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Myung-Sim smiled back, the tension between them easing into something softer, more familiar. But the underlying emotions were still there, unspoken yet undeniable. For all the years they had spent together, this was the closest they had come to confronting what lay beneath the surface.

"I meant what I said last night," he added after a beat, his voice quieter now. "About us. About how I feel."

Myung-Sim nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. "So did I."

The room was thick with emotion, the unspoken feelings that had been simmering between them for years finally bubbling to the surface. Kim Sabu stood up slowly and walked around the desk, stopping just in front of her. He reached out, gently taking her hand in his, and for a moment, they simply stood there, neither of them saying anything. But in the silence, there was a kind of understanding—a shared acknowledgment that whatever they had now, whatever they were building, it was real.

"Myung-Sim," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want to pretend anymore."

The words hung between them, filled with all the things he had never been able to say before. And in that moment, Myung-Sim understood exactly what he meant. She didn’t want to pretend anymore either.

Slowly, she reached up, her fingers gently brushing his cheek. Kim Sabu’s breath caught, and for a second, it was as if the world had stopped spinning. There was only the two of them, standing in the quiet of his office, caught in a moment that had been years in the making.

Then, without another word, Kim Sabu leaned down, and this time, when their lips met, it was soft and deliberate. There was no hesitation, no rush. Just the quiet, steady realization of what they had both been feeling all along.

This kiss wasn’t about the heat of the moment or the intensity of their emotions—it was about something deeper. It was about trust, about years of friendship and shared experiences, about the unspoken connection that had always existed between them.

And when they finally pulled apart, both of them breathless but smiling, the tension that had once filled the room seemed to melt away. They didn’t need to say anything else. The kiss had said it all.

Days turned into weeks, and while the connection between Kim Sabu and Myung-Sim deepened, an undercurrent of nervousness began to bubble beneath the surface. They had settled into a comfortable rhythm at the hospital, but the prospect of venturing into the world outside as something more than colleagues made their hearts race in a completely different way.

One evening, as they finished up a particularly grueling day, Myung-Sim found herself fidgeting with her jacket as she glanced over at Kim Sabu, who was organizing his desk. The soft light from the desk lamp illuminated his features, making her heart skip a beat. It struck her how long it had been since they had done something outside of the hospital—a real date, just the two of them.

“Kim Sabu,” she began, her voice tentative as she approached him. “We should… we should go out sometime. Like a real date.”

His head snapped up, surprise flickering in his eyes before it shifted to a warm smile. “A date? You mean, outside of here?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her cheeks warming at the thought. “Somewhere away from the hospital, where we can just… be ourselves.”

He chuckled softly, a hint of nervousness threading through his laughter. “That sounds nice. But… what if we make it awkward?”

“Awkward?” Myung-Sim echoed, raising an eyebrow. “You mean more awkward than the times we’ve tried to hide our feelings in front of everyone?”

He paused, considering her words. “Fair point. But still… what if we don’t know how to act on a date?”

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” she said, her confidence shining through. “After everything we’ve been through, I think we can handle one dinner.”

“Okay, then,” he said, his voice steadying. “Let’s do it.”

They exchanged shy smiles, the excitement and anxiety swirling between them. They decided to meet on Saturday evening, choosing a cozy little restaurant that had been a favorite of theirs during their early years at Doldam. The familiar ambiance would make it easier, and the thought of sharing a meal together filled them both with anticipation.

---

Saturday arrived, and as the sun dipped below the horizon, Myung-Sim stood in front of her mirror, anxiously adjusting her outfit for the third time. She wore a simple yet elegant dress, one that made her feel confident, but the nerves gnawed at her. It had been so long since she had been on a date, especially with Kim Sabu.

“Okay, you can do this,” she murmured to herself, trying to steady her breathing. “Just be yourself.”

As she stepped outside, the cool evening air brushed against her skin, and she took a moment to soak in the atmosphere. The soft sounds of the bustling street filled her with a mix of excitement and anxiety. What if this was a disaster?

When she arrived at the restaurant, she spotted Kim Sabu waiting at the entrance. He looked dapper in a simple yet stylish shirt, a faint blush tinting his cheeks when their eyes met. For a brief moment, it felt like they were back in the hospital, the familiar warmth of their friendship grounding them amidst the fluttering nerves.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice soft as he stepped closer.

“Hey,” she replied, her heart racing.

As they entered the restaurant, the cozy atmosphere enveloped them. The ambient lighting and gentle chatter of other diners created a warm backdrop that eased some of the tension. They settled into a corner table, the intimacy of the setting offering a sense of comfort.

“So…,” Kim Sabu began, glancing over the menu. “What do you usually get here?”

“Honestly? I’ve never been here without you and Nam Seonsaeng,” she replied, a playful smile gracing her lips.

He chuckled, relaxing into the moment. “I guess it’s only fitting that we make a memory here, just the two of us now.”

Their conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and the occasional teasing that had characterized their friendship. Yet, underneath the light-hearted banter lay an electric tension, a silent acknowledgment of the shift in their relationship.

As the waiter cleared their empty plates, Myung-Sim felt a familiar rush of nerves flood her system. “I’m really glad we did this,” she admitted, her gaze lingering on him. “I’ve wanted to for a long time.”

“Me too,” he said, sincerity reflecting in his eyes. “It feels… different. In a good way.”

They shared a moment of comfortable silence, both lost in thought as they processed the weight of their words. It felt good to be open with each other, to explore this new chapter of their relationship outside the confines of their professional lives.

As the evening wore on, the restaurant became busier, the laughter and chatter around them blending into a warm hum. Kim Sabu leaned back in his chair, observing Myung-Sim as she animatedly recounted a story about a particularly chaotic day in the ER.

Suddenly, the power went out, plunging the restaurant into darkness. Gasps filled the room, but before panic could set in, soft candlelight flickered to life at the tables, casting a warm glow.

“Of all the times for the power to go out,” Myung-Sim laughed nervously, glancing around.

Kim Sabu reached across the table, his hand brushing against hers. “At least we have candles,” he said with a grin. “And each other.”

The gesture sent warmth coursing through her, and she instinctively turned her hand to entwine her fingers with his. Their hands fit together perfectly, the connection sending sparks of electricity up her arm.

In that moment, the world around them faded away. It was just the two of them, surrounded by the soft glow of candlelight, the noise of the restaurant becoming a distant echo. 

“Kim Sabu,” she whispered, her heart racing. “I’ve thought about this moment for a long time.”

“Me too,” he confessed, his gaze steady on hers. “I’ve wanted to be here with you, like this. Just the two of us.”

There was a silence, heavy with unspoken words and lingering glances. As the noise of the restaurant faded away, the distance between them seemed to vanish, their shared warmth igniting a boldness that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long.

And then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Kim Sabu leaned closer, their foreheads nearly touching. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, vulnerability lacing his tone.

“Yes,” Myung-Sim breathed, her heart pounding.

As their lips met, it was slow and sweet, an exploration of everything they had felt but never had the chance to express. The kiss deepened, and Myung-Sim melted into it, feeling as if they were the only two people in the world.

When they finally pulled away, their breaths mingling in the candlelight, Myung-Sim felt a sense of euphoria wash over her. They had taken a leap together, and it felt right. Perfect, even.

The power returned, the candles flickering out in the harsh glare of the electric lights, but for Kim Sabu and Myung-Sim, the warmth of that stolen moment lingered. Their eyes met, both sharing the same realization that the line between their professional relationship and their feelings for each other had finally been crossed.

“We should do this more often,” Kim Sabu suggested, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Agreed,” she replied, a smile breaking across her face. “Just promise me we won’t have a power outage next time.”

“Deal,” he laughed, his laughter echoing softly in the intimate setting.

As they left the restaurant, the air was filled with a gentle breeze, the stars twinkling above them like distant lanterns in the night sky. Myung-Sim felt a buoyancy in her step, the memories of their first date already etched in her mind.

“Where to next?” Kim Sabu asked, his gaze flicking to her with a hint of excitement.

“How about a walk by the lake?” she suggested, her heart racing at the thought of spending more time together.

“Sounds perfect,” he said, a genuine smile lighting up his face.

They strolled side by side, their hands still intertwined. The quiet moments felt charged with possibility, every glance and every shared smile bringing them closer together. With each step, Myung-Sim felt her nervousness fade away, replaced by the warmth of their connection.

As they reached the lakefront, the moonlight danced on the water's surface, creating a serene backdrop for their growing bond. They paused, taking in the beauty of the moment together.

“Kim Sabu,” Myung-Sim said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for tonight. For being you.”

He turned to her, his expression softening. “And thank you for being brave enough to take this step with me. I know it’s a little scary, but I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

With that, Myung-Sim leaned closer, resting her head against his shoulder, content in the stillness of the night. It felt right—like they were exactly where they were meant to be. As they stood together by the lake, the promise of what was to come hung in the air, bright and full of hope.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery light over the lake as Myung-Sim and Kim Sabu strolled along the lakeshore. The sounds of the water lapping gently against the shore and the distant laughter of late-night strollers created a soothing atmosphere that enveloped them.

“Can you believe it’s taken us this long to go on a date?” Myung-Sim mused, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “It feels like we’ve been dancing around this for years.”

Kim Sabu chuckled, shaking his head. “I guess we were both too stubborn to admit our feelings. Or maybe too afraid of ruining what we already had.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and Myung-Sim felt her heart flutter at the vulnerability in his tone. “I was scared, too,” she confessed, looking up at him. “But being with you tonight… it feels so right.”

He stopped walking, turning to face her fully. “I’ve been thinking about us a lot lately. About how I’ve kept my feelings hidden for so long.” His expression grew serious, vulnerability radiating from him. “I don’t want to hide anymore, Myung-Sim. I want us to be honest with each other.”

Myung-Sim’s breath caught in her throat, the sincerity in his eyes making her heart race. “I want that too, Kim Sabu. I’ve never felt this way about anyone else before.”

“Neither have I,” he admitted, stepping closer. “You make me feel alive in a way I didn’t know was possible.”

She could feel the heat rising between them, a magnetic pull drawing them closer. “So what do we do now?” she asked softly, searching his gaze.

“Let’s take it one day at a time,” he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper. “But let’s be honest with ourselves and each other. No more hiding.”

Myung-Sim nodded, her heart swelling with hope. “I can do that.”

As they resumed walking, a comfortable silence enveloped them, punctuated only by the gentle sound of the lake. It felt as though they were stepping into a new chapter of their lives, hand in hand.

As the weekend approached, the air was filled with anticipation. After their date, Kim Sabu and Myung-Sim exchanged texts throughout the week, each message laced with excitement. They decided to spend the weekend exploring the nearby city, eager to create more memories together.

The day arrived, and Myung-Sim stood in front of her closet, pondering over what to wear. After much deliberation, she chose a casual yet stylish outfit that made her feel confident. She wanted to impress Kim Sabu without feeling overly formal.

When they met at the train station, Kim Sabu greeted her with a bright smile, a backpack slung over one shoulder. “Ready for our adventure?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“Absolutely,” she replied, her own excitement mirrored in her voice.

They hopped on the train, the rhythmic clattering of the tracks creating a comforting backdrop as they chatted about their plans for the day. Their conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and playful banter, each moment strengthening the bond they were building.

As they arrived at their destination, the city buzzed with energy, and the streets were alive with activity. They wandered through charming boutiques, stopping occasionally to admire local art and try various street foods. Myung-Sim marveled at how natural everything felt—like they were simply meant to be together, exploring the world side by side.

“Have you ever been to a place like this before?” Kim Sabu asked as they strolled past a vibrant market.

“No, I’ve always wanted to explore the city, but never had anyone to go with,” she replied, her heart swelling at the thought of sharing this experience with him. “I’m so glad we’re doing this.”

“Me too,” he said, glancing down at her with a soft smile. “I never imagined a day like this with you would be possible.”

After a couple of hours of exploring, they found a small café with outdoor seating. They settled at a table under a colorful awning, the warmth of the sun adding to the cheerful atmosphere.

As they sipped their drinks, Myung-Sim couldn’t help but admire the way Kim Sabu’s eyes lit up when he spoke about his dreams for Doldam Hospital. She found herself hanging onto every word, captivated by his passion.

“You know, I’ve always admired your dedication,” she said, her voice sincere. “You put so much into everything you do. It’s inspiring.”

Kim Sabu met her gaze, a hint of surprise in his eyes. “Thank you, Myung-Sim. That means a lot coming from you.”

They continued to talk and share stories, the conversation flowing effortlessly between them. As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the city, Myung-Sim felt a sense of contentment wash over her.

“Want to take a walk by the river?” she suggested, recalling their last intimate moment together.

“Absolutely,” he replied, a smile brightening his face.

They made their way to the riverbank, where the water shimmered in the fading light. The atmosphere felt magical, and as they strolled side by side, Myung-Sim felt a sense of serenity envelop them.

“I can’t believe how much fun today has been,” Kim Sabu said, glancing over at her. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

“Me neither,” she admitted, her heart swelling with warmth. “It’s nice to escape the hospital and just be ourselves.”

They paused at a secluded spot along the river, the sounds of the city fading into the background. Myung-Sim leaned against the railing, looking out at the water as it glistened under the setting sun.

“Do you ever wonder about the future?” she asked, her tone contemplative.

“Sometimes,” he replied, joining her at the railing. “But I try not to think too far ahead. I want to focus on what’s right in front of me—like this moment with you.”

She turned to face him, her heart racing at the sincerity in his eyes. “I feel the same way. I want to enjoy every moment we have together.”

As the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon, they stood in comfortable silence, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging in the air. Myung-Sim could feel the tension building again, an undeniable connection pulling them closer.

“Kim Sabu,” she whispered, her heart pounding. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he replied, his gaze steady and reassuring.

“What do you really want?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “In all of this… with us?”

Kim Sabu took a deep breath, his eyes scanning the darkening skyline for a moment before looking back into Myung-Sim's eyes. "I don't know if I'm ready to say it out loud," he confessed, his voice low and filled with a mixture of vulnerability and hope. "But I've found a friend, a confidante, and a light in you. I want to explore this with you, whatever that might lead to."

Myung-Sim bit her lip, her heart fluttering with both excitement and fear. She could see the truth in his eyes, and it only served to strengthen the bond between them. "Then let's do that," she said softly, reaching out to intertwine their fingers. "Let's explore and see where this leads us, together."

They continued their walk along the river, hand in hand, the city lights twinkling like stars above them. As they shared laughter and stories, it felt like they were writing the first pages of a new chapter in their lives—one filled with love, adventure, and the promise of a future together.

After a day filled with laughter and shared moments, Kim Sabu and Myung-Sim found themselves standing in front of a quaint hotel, the sun dipping low in the sky.

“This place looks cozy,” Myung-Sim said, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she took in the charming exterior.

“Yeah, I thought it would be nice to relax and not worry about heading back home just yet,” Kim Sabu replied, smiling as he opened the door for her.

As they entered the lobby, the warm atmosphere enveloped them, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air. After a brief check-in, they were handed the keys to their room.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Myung-Sim said, her voice a mix of thrill and nervousness.

“Me neither,” Kim Sabu admitted, glancing at her with a reassuring smile. “Let’s just take it easy and enjoy our time together.”

When they reached their room, Kim Sabu unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a small yet comfortable space adorned with warm colors and soft lighting. A king-sized bed dominated the room, and the atmosphere felt cozy and inviting.

“Wow, this is nice!” Myung-Sim exclaimed as she stepped inside, glancing around. “I love the vibe here.”

“Yeah, it has a nice charm,” he agreed, but as he looked at the bed, a sudden realization hit him. “Uh, Myung-Sim…”

She turned to face him, her smile fading slightly as she caught the look of concern on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I just realized… I thought I booked a room with two beds.” He scratched the back of his neck, feeling a mix of embarrassment and anxiety. “But it looks like we’ll have to share this one.”

Myung-Sim’s heart raced at the thought. Sharing a bed with Kim Sabu—after everything they had just shared—felt both thrilling and intimidating. “Oh… um, that’s okay, right?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Yeah, of course! I mean, we’re adults. It’s just sleeping,” he said, his tone casual, but she could sense the underlying tension in his voice. Kim Sabu took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto hers. "We’ll make it work." He couldn't help but feel the tension building, an unspoken yearning for more between them.

Trying to lighten the mood, he suggested, "Let's just relax for a bit, order some room service, and enjoy this night together."

Myung-Sim nodded, sensing the underlying desire and nervousness in his gaze. They agreed that they'd figure everything else out in the morning, and for now, they'd simply enjoy this unexpected turn of events.

As the awkwardness lingered in the air, they both tried to shake off the sudden weight of the situation. Myung-Sim took a deep breath, attempting to embrace the moment. “Well, it’s not like we haven’t been through a lot together. I think we can handle this.”

“Right,” Kim Sabu replied, his expression softening as he met her gaze. “Just sleeping. Nothing to worry about.”

They both chuckled nervously, the tension easing slightly. Kim Sabu dropped his bag on the floor, and Myung-Sim decided to explore the room a bit more, hoping to distract herself from the thought of sharing the bed.

As they settled into the cozy space, it was as if the walls were closing in, drawing them closer, entwining their fates in a way that they both felt was meant to be.

After a quick freshening up, they decided to order dinner from a nearby restaurant. While they waited for their food, they settled on opposite sides of the bed, keeping a comfortable distance between them.

“So, what do you think of the city?” Kim Sabu asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the uncomfortable situation.

“It’s beautiful! I love the energy here,” Myung-Sim replied enthusiastically. “And I’m really glad we decided to come.”

As they chatted, the food arrived, and they dug into their meal, the conversation flowing easily once more. They shared stories and laughter, and for a moment, the anxiety of sharing a bed faded into the background.

After dinner, as they finished the last bites of dessert, Kim Sabu leaned back against the headboard, a contented sigh escaping his lips. “This was a great idea. I’ve really enjoyed today.”

“Me too,” Myung-Sim said, feeling a warmth spread through her at the sincerity in his voice. “It feels nice to just… be us without all the hospital chaos.”

They exchanged soft smiles, and Myung-Sim could feel the atmosphere shifting again, the air thick with unspoken feelings.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Kim Sabu suggested, reaching for the remote.

“Sure! That sounds great,” she replied, trying to suppress the flutter of nerves in her stomach.

They settled into the bed, Myung-Sim propped up on one side while Kim Sabu leaned back against the headboard. The movie started, but Myung-Sim found it hard to focus, her mind drifting back to the reality of their situation.

As the movie played, she noticed the way Kim Sabu shifted slightly closer to her, their shoulders brushing against each other. Her heart raced at the contact, and she could feel the heat radiating from him.

“Kim Sabu,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” he replied, glancing over at her.

“What if we… what if we fell asleep and accidentally ended up too close?” she asked, her cheeks flushing.

He chuckled, the sound warm and comforting. “I guess we’ll just have to be careful then.”

“Or we could set some ground rules,” she suggested, trying to lighten the mood. “Like, no cuddling unless absolutely necessary.”

“Deal,” he said, laughing softly. “But if we’re being honest, I can’t promise I won’t want to cuddle.”

“Just don’t be too clingy!” she teased, playfully nudging him.

As the movie continued, the playful banter helped ease the tension, but the unspoken feelings lingered in the air, thick and heavy.

As the night wore on, they eventually decided to turn off the movie, the room now shrouded in a soft darkness. Myung-Sim settled into the bed, her heart racing as she felt Kim Sabu shift beside her.

“Goodnight, Myung-Sim,” he said softly, his voice low.

“Goodnight, Kim Sabu,” she replied, her heart pounding in her chest.

For a while, they both lay in silence, the quiet of the room amplifying their thoughts. Myung-Sim couldn’t shake the feeling of intimacy that hung in the air, the proximity of their bodies creating a palpable tension.

After what felt like an eternity, Kim Sabu turned to her. “Myung-Sim, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she replied, her curiosity piqued.

“What if we… just let ourselves be close tonight? I mean, we’ve already crossed so many boundaries, and I think it could feel nice,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Myung-Sim’s heart raced at his words, the temptation of his offer swirling in her mind. “Are you sure? I don’t want to complicate things.”

“I think it would be nice to be close to you, to share this moment,” he said, his sincerity shining through. “I don’t want to push you, but… I just feel drawn to you.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she considered his words. There was something intoxicating about the idea of being so close to him, and she felt a thrill of excitement coursing through her.

“Okay,” she finally said, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. “Let’s do it.”

With a tentative smile, Kim Sabu shifted closer, their bodies inching together until there was no space left between them. Myung-Sim could feel the warmth radiating from him, and her heart soared at the intimacy of the moment.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his breath brushing against her cheek.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” she replied, feeling a wave of comfort wash over her.

As they settled into the shared warmth, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them in their own little bubble.

The intimacy of the moment enveloped them, and Myung-Sim found herself melting against him. She felt safe and cherished, as if the world outside had ceased to exist. Kim Sabu’s presence was grounding, and she could sense the tension and anxiety melting away with each passing second.

As they lay there, Myung-Sim couldn’t help but steal glances at him, studying the way the moonlight cast gentle shadows across his face. She felt a rush of affection, an overwhelming need to be closer to him.

“Hey,” she whispered, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?” he replied, turning his head slightly to meet her gaze.

“Thank you for today. For everything,” she said sincerely. “I really needed this.”

Kim Sabu smiled softly, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “I needed it too, more than I realized.”

They found themselves lost in each other’s eyes, the conversation deepening into uncharted territory. Without any word, Myung-Sim inched closer to him. 

Kim Sabu brushed a strand of Myung-Sim’s hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek. His gaze softened as he spoke, “I’ve been hiding my feelings for so long, trying to focus on everything else… Doldam, the patients, the team. But you, Myung-Sim, you’ve been right there all along.”

Her breath hitched at his words. “I’ve felt the same. It’s just… it’s been hard to navigate this. I didn’t know how to approach it without complicating everything.”

Kim Sabu leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “It’s already complicated. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”

The vulnerability in his tone made her heart swell. She hadn’t expected this moment to come so naturally, so perfectly. “I don’t want to hide anymore,” she whispered, her eyes locking with his.

With that admission, the final barrier between them seemed to dissolve. They both leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that was soft and tentative at first, a gentle exploration of feelings long suppressed. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was the kiss of two people who had waited for years to find this moment, and now, it was finally theirs.

Kim Sabu’s hand cupped the back of Myung-Sim’s neck, deepening the kiss with a sense of quiet intensity. Myung-Sim responded in kind, her hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. Time seemed to slow, the world around them fading into a distant hum as they lost themselves in each other.

The kiss deepened, the connection between them growing more intense by the second. Myung-Sim could taste the love and longing on Kim Sabu’s lips, and she knew that she mirrored that hunger in her own.

As their tongues danced, Kim Sabu’s other hand gently slid up her side, settling on her waist. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down her spine, and she could no longer deny the electric desire surging through her.

The moon overhead was their silent witness, the night their private stage. Their lips parted, each taking a moment to catch their breath, their eyes never leaving each other's.

Myung-Sim, still breathless, looked into Kim Sabu’s deep eyes, and in that moment, she knew they had crossed a threshold. A new chapter had begun, and they were the authors of their destiny.

Kim Sabu’s smile was both tender and possessive. "Sussaem," he said, using her beloved nickname. "Let’s start this journey together, wherever it may lead us."

Tears welled in Myung-Sim's eyes, and with a trembling hand, she reached up to cup his face, her thumb tracing his cheekbone. "I’ll follow you anywhere, Kim Sabu," she whispered, and with that, their hearts and futures became one.

As their passion continued to build, Kim Sabu pulled Myung-Sim closer, the need to feel every inch of her against him, intoxicating. He trailed his lips down her neck, eliciting gasps and moans, while his hands roamed over her body.

Myung-Sim arched into him, her breathing heavy as she clung to him, her body responding to his touch with a fiery intensity. Her heart raced as he nibbled on her earlobe, her core aching for his touch.

She could feel the evidence of his arousal against her, and her own desire grew, a feverish heat coursing through her. Her arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close as they both succumbed to the raw, unbridled desire that consumed them.

The moon above cast its soft, romantic glow on their entwined bodies, bearing witness to the new depths of their love. The night became their playground, and as the stars watched, their love story took a turn for the passionate and intense.

As Kim Sabu's hand cupped Myung-Sim's breast through her shirt, he could feel her heart pounding beneath her delicate skin. He took a moment to revel in the sensation, before leaning in to gently kiss and suckle on her neck.

Myung-Sim's head fell back, her eyes closing as a low, guttural moan escaped her parted lips. The intensity of their connection was palpable, a magnet that pulled them closer together.

Kim Sabu's other hand continued to roam, sliding beneath her dress, feeling the silky smoothness of her thighs. He could feel the heat emanating from her core, making him even more desperate to satisfy her.

She gripped the fabric of his shirt, her nails digging into his back, urging him on as their need for each other grew. They were no longer friends, doctor, or nurse - they were simply two people consumed by their raw, unfiltered love.

The night's symphony played on as the couple lost themselves in each other, embarking on a journey of carnal exploration, guided by their burning passion for one another.

"Myung-Sim, I have wanted to do this with you for so long." His voice thick with desire. His eyes grew dark. Myung-Sim's heart was beating out of her chest as she saw hunger and desire in his eyes.

Myung-Sim's breath hitched as Kim Sabu's voice, laced with desire, washed over her. She knew, in that moment, that everything had changed between them. They had crossed a boundary that would forever alter the course of their relationship.

She parted her lips, about to speak, when he suddenly lowered his head and captured her mouth in a searing, hungry kiss. The urgency in his actions left her speechless. She felt as if she were drowning in the depths of his need, and yet, it was an intoxicating sensation.

Her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, needing to feel his skin against hers. The moon illuminated the muscular, sculpted form beneath the fabric, causing a flutter of excitement in her belly.

Their frenzied kisses were punctuated by the sounds of fabric being ripped and clothes hitting the ground. They were both desperate to be as close as possible, to feel each other's naked skin against their own.

With shaky fingers, Myung-Sim finally undid the last button on his shirt, letting it fall open. Her gaze raked over his chest, her breathing growing more ragged as her hand traced the contours of his pecs, her nails grazing his sensitive nipples.

Their eyes locked, the unspoken promises and uncontrollable craving between them hanging heavy in the air. They knew they were embarking on a new and intimate chapter in their lives, one that neither of them would ever forget.

Myung-Sim's heart raced as Kim Sabu's lips found hers, sealing her fate as they shared a fiery, all-consuming kiss. She could feel his breath hot against her mouth, a testament to the intensity of his desires.

With deft fingers, he reached up and lifted her shirt over her head, casting it aside as he continued to hold her in his embrace. Her lace bra was all that stood between him and her delicate, heaving chest.

Myung-Sim's own hands found their way to his belt, her fingers working furiously to undo it and release the rigid bulge that strained against his pants. As she unzipped him, she heard his sharp intake of breath, feeling his need for her as if it were her own.

In that moment, they both understood that their friendship, while strong, would forever be tainted by the powerful, primal need they now shared. As they continued to explore each other, they left the comfort of their roles and ventured into the depths of their newfound relationship. Unable to resist the temptation, Kim Sabu's fingers hooked into the lace of her bra and tugged it aside, exposing her soft, luscious breasts. He took a moment to relish the sight before lowering his head to lavish her with sweet, tender kisses, savoring the way her nipples hardened under his touch.

As he nibbled on her sensitive flesh, Myung-Sim couldn't hold back a soft moan. Her hands trailed down the length of his chest, feeling the hardened peaks of his abs as she reached his now fully exposed arousal.

With a knowing smile, she wrapped her hand around him, stroking him with practiced ease. Her thumb brushed across the sensitive head, eliciting a low growl from Kim Sabu. He gripped her waist tightly, pulling her closer, their hips grinding together in an unspoken plea for more.

Both of them knew that there was no going back, and as they ventured into each other's bodies, they were embracing the new reality of their relationship: a connection that blended their hearts, their desires, and their souls.

Kim Sabu's breath hitched as Myung-Sim's skilled hand continued to caress his aching length. The pleasure that surged through his body as her thumb teased the tip of his manhood made him want to beg for more.

Unable to resist her irresistible pull, he leaned in, allowing her to nibble on his neck. The sensation sent shivers down his spine, a testament to the overwhelming desire he felt for her.

As their hips continued to grind against each other, Kim Sabu's hands wandered, seeking out her slick, wet entrance. He dipped a finger inside, feeling the walls of her sex tighten and release around him. The raw, animalistic pleasure he felt at invading her in this intimate way was indescribable.

Myung-Sim moaned softly against his neck, her grip on him tightening as her own body responded to his touch. The room was filled with the sound of their passionate breaths, the slap of flesh on flesh, and the muffled cries of pleasure.

As Myung-Sim's orgasm subsided, a shudder ran through her body. Her desire for him was all-encompassing, and she could hardly bear the thought of being without him.

Kim Sabu, driven by an uncontrollable need to possess her, positioned himself at the entrance of her quivering, drenched center. He could feel her heat and wetness, and it only served to heighten his lust.

He looked into her eyes, seeing the trust, the longing, and the need mirrored there. Without another word, he pressed forward, sliding inside her in one smooth, deep thrust.

Myung-Sim gasped, her back arching in response to the intense fullness that flooded her. Kim Sabu paused, giving them both a moment to adjust, before beginning a slow, rhythmic thrusting.

Kim Sabu's pace quickened, his hands gripping her hips as he continued to slide in and out of her. Myung-Sim's moans and whimpers filled the room, her voice pleading for more as she clung to him, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

He could feel the walls of her slick, wet pussy gripping his cock with each thrust, and it was all he could do to resist losing himself inside her. "Myung-Sim," he panted, his voice low and ragged, "You feel so good."

Her name on his lips sent shivers down her spine, her own breathing growing more erratic as the pleasure built within her. With a final, powerful surge, Kim Sabu's pace reached its crescendo, and they both teetered on the brink of their shared climax.

"Kim Sabu," Myung-Sim moaned, her voice trembling with need, "don't stop." And he didn't. In that moment, they were as one. The lines between friend, lover, and colleague had blurred and melted away, leaving behind only the purest, rawest form of love and connection. "Myung-Sim," Kim Sabu gasped, feeling his own release approaching at a ferocious pace, "I can't... I can't take it anymore."

Myung-Sim let out a guttural cry, her entire body quivering under the intensity of her impending orgasm. Their eyes met, their pupils dilated, and their lips parted in unison as they both surrendered to the overwhelming sensation of climax.

Their orgasms tore through them like a whirlwind, the room filled with their cries and moans. Their bodies locked together, their sweat mingling, as they clung to each other for dear life.

Exhausted and breathless, Kim Sabu collapsed on top of Myung-Sim, his heart pounding in his chest. Tenderly, he brushed a lock of hair away from her face and whispered, "Saranghae, Myung-Sim."

Myung-Sim, still reeling from the incredible connection they'd just shared, looked up at him, a slow, tender smile spreading across her lips. "Nado, Kim Sabu," she replied, before pulling him down into a soft, lingering kiss.

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Myung-Sim stirred first, her eyes slowly opening to the sight of Kim Sabu sleeping beside her, his face peaceful and content.

For a moment, she simply watched him, taking in the quiet beauty of the moment. They had spent years building their careers, focusing on their patients, always putting others first. But now, for the first time, they were allowing themselves to focus on each other.

Kim Sabu’s eyes fluttered open, and he turned his head slightly to look at her. A slow, sleepy smile spread across his face. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she whispered back, her heart fluttering at the sight of him. “How did you sleep?”

“Better than I have in a long time,” he replied, reaching out to brush his hand against hers. “How about you?”

“I think I slept like a baby,” she chuckled, feeling a sense of lightness she hadn’t experienced in years.

They lay there for a while, simply enjoying the quiet intimacy of the morning. It was a stark contrast to the frantic pace of their lives at the hospital, and neither of them was in a hurry to disrupt the peace.

Eventually, though, reality started to creep back in. Myung-Sim shifted slightly, propping herself up on her elbow. “So… what happens now?”

Kim Sabu let out a thoughtful sigh. “I guess we go back to Doldam. But… it doesn’t have to be like it was before.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, searching his eyes for clarity.

“I mean… we don’t have to hide anymore. I’m done pretending that what I feel for you isn’t real,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet determination. “We can take things slow, figure this out together. But I want us to be honest—with ourselves and with each other.”

Later that day, after packing up and checking out of the hotel, Kim Sabu and Myung-Sim rode a bus back to Doldam Hospital. The familiar sights of the road leading to their workplace came into view, but the tension that usually accompanied the thought of returning to work felt different this time—lighter, easier to bear.

As they walked up to the entrance, Myung-Sim glanced over at Kim Sabu. “Do you think anyone will notice?”

Kim Sabu gave her a reassuring smile, linking arms with her as they entered the building. “If they do, they’ll know it’s about time we finally admitted what we both feel. I, for one, am tired of tiptoeing around each other."

Their usual brisk pace through the halls seemed a bit lighter, as if they carried a newfound spring in their steps. They exchanged greetings with some of their coworkers, who seemed taken aback by their newfound openness, but none of them said anything.

As they made their way to the OR, Kim Sabu squeezed Myung-Sim's hand. "Ready to face the day, Sussaem?"

She grinned at the use of her nickname, her heart filled with warmth. "As ready as I’ll ever be, Kim Sabu. Let’s do this."

As they stepped into the OR, the team was already waiting, their eyes briefly meeting the couple before focusing back on their duties. But a subtle change had occurred, a shift in the energy between them all.

For Kim Sabu and Myung-Sim, the line between their careers and their newfound connection was now a blur. They had decided to embrace the changes that came with their relationship, welcoming the challenges and the growth that would follow. And, together, they were ready to face them all, with hearts full of love and determination.

-END-