When the Clock Strikes|Pi Han Ul x Reader|

(S02) Chapter 34

His smile was gentle, but laced with worry. “You know where to find me.”

I nodded and turned, walking slowly back toward the hospital, my shoulders heavy, my mind spiraling.

I hadn’t replied to Han Wool’s texts. I hadn’t seen him since the funeral, not really. And maybe I didn’t have the energy to.

Because no matter how many times he said it wasn’t my fault, no matter how many people told me it wasn’t on me… I couldn’t believe them.

Not when I was the last person Harin texted.

Not when her words still echoed in my head.

You ruined my life.

I pressed my badge to the scanner at the entrance and stepped into the hospital's white light.

I wasn’t ready to eat.

I wasn’t ready to talk.

I wasn’t ready to face anything at all.

But I should survive.

I have to become strong.
________________________

The fluorescent lights of the hospital buzzed faintly overhead as I folded the last chart, set it down on the tray, and pulled off my gloves. My shift was finally over.

It was late. The kind of late that made the hallways feel like tunnels, quiet and stretched out, with only the occasional echo of shoes against tile. I washed my hands, tied my hair up again even though I was heading out, and slipped on my coat.

I wasn’t in the mood to go home, but I wasn’t going to fall apart either. I’d mastered the quiet balance between composure and exhaustion. Strong enough to stand, just tired enough to feel hollow.

As I stepped out of the hospital’s front entrance, the cold air brushed against my skin. It was a clear night. A little wind. Empty streets. Peaceful in that eerie, post-midnight kind of way.

And then, I saw him.

Han Wool was standing by the entrance wall, not even trying to hide. He looked like he’d been there a while, hands shoved into his pockets, jacket zipped up halfway, eyes tracking every person walking out until they landed on me.

His gaze softened instantly.

He looked tired. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes, and his hair was messier than usual, like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. There was a kind of desperation in the way he stood there, like he was clinging to something unseen.

I didn’t stop walking, but my steps slowed.

“You’re gonna freeze,” I said as I reached him, voice calm, level.

“I will, if you keep ignoring me.”

I didn’t respond. Just stared at him, taking in the weight he was carrying. He looked like a man unraveling slowly—but still stubborn enough to keep standing.

He glanced down at me. “Come with me.”

“Where?” I asked, wariness creeping in.

“There’s someone waiting for you.”

My brows drew together. “Who?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Just walked toward his car, expecting me to follow. “Someone,” he repeated, unlocking the door. “You’ll know when I take you there.”

For a second, I debated it. Then sighed and walked to the passenger side.

He started the engine, the dashboard lights casting a soft glow between us as the car slid into the quiet night.