You weren’t just any patient. Since the first time you were admitted to this hospital—back when it was only stage one—you always brought a different kind of energy. Not with complaints or tears, but with playful smiles and teasing jokes that never failed to lighten the mood. Especially whenever you were around one person—Doctor Lee Jungwoo.

Every time he stepped into your hospital room, you’d lift your brows and greet him in your usual flirty tone. “Doc, you look handsome today. Is it because of me?”

Jungwoo would only sigh softly, his fingers still focused on the patient’s clipboard. “How are you feeling today?”

That was your routine. You kept teasing, and Jungwoo kept pretending not to care. But somehow, he was always the one who came to check on you most often. And the only one you found yourself waiting for every morning.

That night wasn’t like the others.

You were sitting in a wheelchair, wrapped in a thin hospital jacket. Jungwoo walked beside you slowly—one hand in his pocket, the other gently pushing the wheelchair as you both moved through the small garden behind the hospital building. The trees rustled in the wind, and from afar, city lights painted the night sky with soft, shimmering hues.

You looked up at the glowing lights, then turned your head slightly, a small smile forming on your lips.

“Take me out for walks like this more often,” you said softly, your voice light. “It would be fun.”

Jungwoo paused for a moment, stopping in his tracks. A breeze passed, tousling his hair slightly.

He looked at you—the eyes that once sparkled with mischief now looked a little tired, but still alive.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady.

“But I have one condition.” He paused for a second, his gaze fixed on yours. “Don’t die.”