My phone buzzed in my coat pocket, vibrating against my side. I barely glanced at it, assuming it was a message from Seok Kyung or Ha Ya. But when I pulled it out and saw the sender, my fingers hesitated over the screen.

Harin.

I exhaled sharply before unlocking it.

You are the reason. I'll never forgive you. You ruined my life.

I stared at the words, my brows furrowing.

Ruined her life?

A humorless laugh almost escaped me. Harin had spent years painting me as the villain in her perfect little drama, rewriting our history to make herself the tragic heroine. But in reality? She had taken everything from me. She had turned my life upside down, stolen Han Wool when he was most vulnerable, and now had the audacity to act like I was the one who wronged her?

Unbelievable.

Shaking my head, I locked my phone and shoved it back into my pocket. I didn’t have time for this. Not today.

She could send all the dramatic messages she wanted, but that wouldn’t change the truth.

Straightening my shoulders, I focused back on my work, flipping through the patient’s chart. There were real problems to deal with, real people who needed my attention—not someone who had spent her whole life making me the villain in her own story.
____________________

The evening air was crisp, carrying the distant hum of traffic as I exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of my neck. It had been a long day, an exhausting day. My mind was a tangled mess of thoughts—Harin’s accusations, Han Wool’s silence, the weight of everything pressing down on my chest.

Then, my phone buzzed.

Han Wool.

I answered without hesitation.

"I'm in the parking lot," he said, his voice warm, familiar. "No one's around. It's safe."

A small smile tugged at my lips. "I'll be right there."

I slipped my phone into my pocket and grabbed my things, smoothing my coat as I made my way out of the hospital. The hallways were quieter now, the usual chaos settling into the stillness of the evening shift.

As I walked towards the parking lot, my phone buzzed again. Then again. And again.

I frowned, glancing at the screen.

Auntie.

I sighed, debating whether to answer. I was too tired. Whatever it was, it could wait until later.

The phone kept ringing.

I reached the parking lot, my eyes searching for him. And then I saw him—standing there, arms folded, his head tilting slightly when he caught sight of me.

His smile widened, his golden retriever energy radiating even in the dim glow of the parking lights.

I smiled back, about to quicken my pace when my phone rang again.

Annoyed, I finally picked it up. "Auntie, what is it? I just got off work—"

"Ye Na."

Something in her voice made me stop. It was trembling, broken—like something had shattered inside her.

I frowned. "Auntie?"

Her breathing was uneven on the other end of the line. And then—

“She’s gone, Ye Na.”

My grip on the phone tightened. “…What?”

A choked sob. “Harin. She… she suicided.”

The world stopped.

My body froze, my breath caught somewhere between my lungs and throat.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak.

Dead.

Harin was dead.

Something sharp twisted in my chest, something I couldn’t name, couldn’t understand. The weight of it pressed down on me, suffocating.

My knees nearly buckled.

It's my fault.

I killed her.

The words clawed into my skull, dug deep into my skin, poisoning me.

I didn’t hear the rest of what my aunt was saying. My ears were ringing too loudly, the pounding in my chest drowning out everything else.

Somewhere in the haze, I felt movement. Han Wool was in front of me now, his brows furrowed in concern. “Ye Na?” His voice was distant, like an echo through water. “What happened?”

I couldn’t answer. I was suffocating.

His hands reached for my arms, grounding me, pulling me back into reality. "Ye Na, talk to me."

I looked up at him. My vision was blurry, my pulse erratic.

And then, with a voice that barely sounded like mine, I whispered the only thing I could.

"H-han Wool, harin...aunty said..."

His expression shifted from confusion to concern, his hands gripping my arms a little firmer. “Ye Na,” he said, his voice low, steady. “What is it?”

I swallowed, but it felt like I was choking. “She… she’s gone.”

When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|Where stories live. Discover now