CHAPTER FIVE : Cracks in the glass

Dr. Hyuna Kim woke before her alarm. The sky outside her apartment window was still gray, the city hushed in that strange hour between night and morning when time seemed suspended.

She lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the faint hum of her radiator. The silence should have been comforting. Instead, it pressed against her chest.

Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Jimin Park.

She tried to push them away. It wasn’t unusual for a patient’s words to echo after a session—especially one as unusual as his. But there was something about the way he had spoken, the way he had looked at her, that refused to leave her alone.

Because I’ve been waiting for you.

Hyuna exhaled sharply and sat up. Enough. She wasn’t going to start her day haunted by the words of a man she had only met once.

In the kitchen, the coffee machine gurgled to life. She leaned against the counter, sipping slowly, letting the bitterness ground her. She thought of her schedule—four patients in the morning, one in the afternoon, a faculty meeting squeezed in between. Busy. Controlled. Just the way she liked it.

Yet beneath her careful planning, Jimin’s presence threaded like a hairline crack in glass—almost invisible, but impossible to ignore.

When she arrived at the clinic, the receptionist greeted her with the usual cheerful smile. Hyuna returned it, her own professional mask slipping into place as easily as breathing. She passed colleagues in the hallway, exchanged polite nods, and entered her office.

The scent of lavender still lingered faintly from yesterday. She froze for a moment, irrationally certain he would be there, sitting in her chair, smiling that unsettling smile. But of course, the room was empty.

She set her bag down and opened her notebook. Her eyes fell immediately on the name she had written the night before: Jimin Park. It was underlined twice. Too forceful. She shut the notebook quickly, as though hiding something indecent.

The morning sessions came and went. Patients spoke of failing marriages, anxieties, grief. She listened, nodded, asked careful questions. On the surface, she was as she always was: calm, steady, compassionate. But beneath that, a tension hummed. Every so often, she caught herself glancing at the clock, counting the hours until his next appointment.

Not because she wanted to see him. She told herself that firmly. It was caution. Preparation. He was a challenging case, and she prided herself on being ready.

Still, when her last morning patient left, Hyuna found herself staring at her reflection in the darkened window. She adjusted her hair, straightened her blouse. Then she caught herself and stepped back, heat rising in her cheeks.

Ridiculous. He was just another patient.

Yet, when she sat back at her desk, her hands folded tightly in her lap, one thought crept through the carefully built walls of her mind:

What if he was right?

What if he had been waiting for her?

The question lodged itself deep, like a splinter she couldn’t reach.

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