Dahyun's Pov
They say childhood is supposed to be the easiest time of your life. A time when you're nurtured, protected, and guided by those who love you the most. They say that in order for a child to truly thrive, they need a solid foundation-good people around them, parents who are present and supportive. It's ironic, really, because I've been thriving without those things.
I didn't have a father. He left before I could even understand what a family feels like. And my mother... well, she loved me, I'm sure. But her priority was always her patients. Always her career as a surgeon. She gave everything to her job, leaving me behind with nannies, tutors, and a house full of emptiness. I guess I learned how to grow up on my own. Or maybe I never really did.
How does someone learn to care for others when no one was really there to care for them? I'm still trying to figure that out.
---
The patient was a young girl, barely 13 years old, with a trauma injury after a car accident. She had been sitting in the passenger seat when the car flipped, trapping her underneath until emergency services arrived. Dahyun had been the one to receive the girl in the ER, and though she had treated countless patients by now, something about this case stuck with her.
The girl's injuries were severe-multiple fractures, a concussion, and possible internal bleeding-but she was conscious. Her wide, fearful eyes had met Dahyun's as she entered the room, and Dahyun had felt an unfamiliar pang in her chest.
Dr. Im Nayeon stood beside Dahyun, calmly giving instructions to the rest of the team. "We need a CT scan to check for internal injuries. Get the ortho team down here for her fractures."
Dahyun nodded, moving mechanically, but her mind wasn't on the procedure. As she examined the girl, taking her vitals, she couldn't help but notice the absence of any family at her bedside. No frantic mother, no concerned father. Just the girl, lying there alone, scared.
Dahyun cleared her throat, trying to focus on her work. "What's your name?" she asked softly.
"Jihoon," the girl whispered, her voice trembling. "Where's my mom? She was driving... is she okay?"
Dahyun hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. She hadn't received the details of the crash yet. "We'll find out soon," she said, trying to sound reassuring. "Right now, we're going to take care of you, okay?"
The girl nodded weakly, tears gathering in her eyes.
Later, as Dahyun prepped Jihoon for surgery, she overheard a conversation between Nayeon and one of the nurses. "The mother didn't make it. Died on impact," Nayeon said quietly. "They haven't told the girl yet."
The words hit Dahyun like a punch to the gut. She glanced over at Jihoon, who was lying still, completely unaware of the tragedy that awaited her. The girl had lost her mother, and she didn't even know it yet.
After the surgery, Dahyun couldn't shake the thoughts swirling in her mind. She found herself in the break room, staring blankly at her phone. She had spent most of her life pretending that her own lack of a father didn't matter and that her mother's absence wasn't a wound she still carried. But seeing Jihoon-alone and scared-brought it all back.
Jihyo entered the break room, grabbing a cup of coffee. "You okay? You've been quiet since the surgery."
Dahyun sighed, putting down her phone. "That girl, Jihoon... she lost her mother in the accident. She doesn't even know yet."
Jihyo frowned, sitting beside her. "That's awful. Does she have anyone else?"
"I don't know," Dahyun murmured. "It just... it reminded me of some things."
Jihyo raised an eyebrow. "Like?"
Dahyun hesitated, unsure of how much to share. But something about the weight of the day made her want to open up. "I didn't have a father growing up. My mom was always at work, always a surgeon first. I grew up in a house full of empty rooms. And now, I'm treating a girl who just lost her mom, and I can't stop thinking... she's going to be alone."
Jihyo was quiet for a moment, her gaze softening. "That's tough, Dahyun. But she has us right now. We're here for her, just like you had people around you, even if it wasn't the same."
Dahyun smiled slightly, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah, I guess."
They sat in silence for a while, sipping their coffee, both reflecting on the day.
---
Adulthood. It's not about turning a certain age or taking on responsibilities. It's realizing that the people who were supposed to be there for you might not always be. It's knowing that sometimes you have to make your own path, even when it feels like no one's guiding you.
That girl today-Jihoon-she's going to learn how to navigate a world without her mother. Just like I learned how to navigate without mine, even though she was technically there. And it's sad. It's unfair. But that's part of growing up, isn't it? Learning to live with the gaps in your life. The people who should've filled them but didn't.
Maybe that's why I became a doctor. Maybe I'm still trying to fill the gaps for someone else, the way no one ever really did for me.
Maybe that's what it means to be an adult.
