Taehyung closes the door behind him and lets out a long sigh, as if releasing the weight of the hospital along with the air. He leans his back against the wood for a few seconds, feeling the silence of the house wrap around him. Finally, peace. He lets the briefcase slip to the floor, walks slowly to the sofa, and drops onto it, hands behind his head, eyes closed, as if he wanted to forget the world.

— No one home? — He murmurs, suddenly opening his eyes. The tone isn’t concern, but rather a statement. He wanted to know if his wife was there, even if he wouldn’t admit it out loud. The silence answers for her. He sits up, calmly takes off his sneakers, and stares at the emptiness of the room, his thoughts weighing heavier than his body.

The routine consumed him. Every patient, every decision, every life lost or saved seemed to etch invisible scars. Too grown to dream, too tired to feel.