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No one's POV:

Minho was startled when Hana rushed to him, enveloping him in a tight, wistful hug before he even had a chance to step past the foyer. For a moment, he stood still, his arms hovering uncertainly before settling on her back, reciprocating the embrace with a gentle firmness. He could sense the weight of her relief and tension through the hug. His hands moved instinctively, rubbing soothing circles on her back, trying to offer comfort.

"Whoa, hey..."
Minho said softly, trying to catch his breath from the suddenness of the moment.

Hana's voice was shaky as she spoke, her head resting against his shoulder.
"I was really worried you wouldn't come back.
I know I was a bit harsh, and I thought I might have messed things up between us."

Minho gently pulled back to look at her, his hands resting on her shoulders as his eyes searched hers for a moment.
 "Why would you think I wouldn't come back? I told you I'd be late. I just went to the gym and caught up with some other friends."

Hana's eyes were downcast, and her voice was barely above a whisper.
"I didn't know how late you meant. I assumed you were too mad to come home and that I'd really messed up. "

Minho's expression softened.
"Hana, listen to me. I get it and sure, I was upset, but we're friends, and friends argue sometimes. "

"Except we didn't just argue—I yelled at you."

"Yeah, I know."

Hana sighed and looked down.
"I know I've said this before, but I'm really sorry for how I yelled.
I was just so frustrated, and I let it get out of hand. That wasn't okay."

Minho nodded.
"I understand. We're good now."

Hana looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the vulnerability she felt.
"You could've called, you know."

Minho gave a small, rueful smile.
"I was mad, remember? I needed some time to cool off."

"Are you still mad?"
Hana asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"Was,"
Minho corrected, emphasizing the past tense. The simple word brought a flicker of relief to Hana's face.

"I'm really sorry,"
she said, her eyes sincere.

He shook his head, a gentle smile playing on his lips.
"Stop apologizing. We all have moments when we lash out, especially when we're stressed. I'm not going to hold it against you. And I've realized I don't know you enough to be mad at you."

She looked puzzled.
 "What do you mean?"

Minho's smile softened.
"I mean, I don't know what you're going through or what's troubling you. And I understand that, it's perfectly okay, I'm not going to ask unless you tell me. We all have our struggles, and I can't judge what I don't understand."

Hana smiled sheepishly, her nerves starting to settle.
"Right, that makes more sense. Have you eaten?"

"Yeah, I've eaten. What about you?"

"Just lunch. I was too anxious to think about eating,"
she admitted, her smile tinged with embarrassment.

"Do you want me to heat up some food for you?"
Minho offered.

Hana shook her head wearily.
"I'm just going to go to bed. I'm too tired to eat."

Minho studied her face, seeing the exhaustion etched in her features.

"Alright, but if you change your mind, just let me know."
He knew she was drained, both physically and emotionally, and he didn't want to push her.
"And I might not see you in the morning because I'll be out for my jog, but have a great day, okay?"

Hana's smile widened, her fatigue momentarily forgotten.

 "Yeah, you too. Have a great day."

Minho gave her a warm, ruffling pat on the head before they both headed to their respective rooms once they said goodnight to each other.

Minho POV:

As I slipped into my bedroom, Hana's reaction lingered in my mind, a relentless echo. My heart pounded wildly in my chest, and a flush of heat spread across my face.

"She scared me there for a second,"
I muttered, pressing a hand over my pounding heart.

The anger and frustration that had been simmering earlier now felt like a distant storm, overshadowed by the warmth of reconciliation. Hana's apology, sincere and heartfelt, had cut through the tension, making me realize just how much our friendship meant to me. Seeing her so distressed reminded me that, despite our disagreements, the bond we shared was worth every effort to mend.

With things smoothed over between us, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I freshened up, changed into clean clothes, and then headed to bed.

My alarm rang precisely at 7 a.m., jolting me awake with its shrill tone. As much as I wanted to hit snooze, I had too much to look forward to today to stay in bed. I managed to get up, change into my jogging attire, and grab my phone and earbuds from the bedside table.
I also packed a bag for later, for when I'd head to the gym. As for breakfast, I preferred to eat after my jog.

I stepped outside into the stillness of the early morning, the quiet only broken by the distant chirping of birds. Hana was still asleep, with another half hour to go before her alarm would rouse her. Heading to the kitchen, I fed my cats, their soft purring a comforting sound in the calm of the morning. Once i was confident that i did everything i needed to do before i left, i slipped in my trainers and walked out of the door.

Hana POV:

Once I'm in my room, I make my bed and change into something more comfortable, but I still can't shake this restless feeling. I lie down, but anxiety keeps me tossing and turning. Frustrated, I get up and reach for the drawer where I keep my sleeping pills, which I've been using more frequently these past few weeks.

I take one and swallow it with a gulp of water, then lie back down in bed. I know it'll take at least 30 minutes for the pill to kick in, so I try not to focus on the time. Instead, I stare up at the ceiling, letting my thoughts drift. I'm not sure when I finally drifted off, but eventually, exhaustion took over, and I fell asleep.

It was now 7:40 am, and I had a lecture at 8:30am. I thought of gambling with time and snooze my alarm just one more time, but decided against it. I dragged myself out of bed, feeling the remnants of sleep clinging to me. After a quick shower to shake off the grogginess, I threw on some comfortable yet presentable clothes and made my way to the kitchen.

The house was quiet, obviously because Minho was already out. I quickly made a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would kickstart my brain. While waiting for the coffee to brew, I checked my phone for any updates or reminders about my lecture. Everything seemed in order, but I knew I had to leave soon to get to campus on time.

With a steaming cup in hand, I took a moment to plan out my morning. I double-checked my bag for lecture materials and made sure I had everything I needed. I played a little with Doongie, who seemed to crave attention, but soon said goodbye as I refocused on getting out the door and making it on time to campus. It was around 8:10 that I left the house, yet I still managed to arrive on campus with a few minutes to spare.

With some extra time before my first class, I decided to submit my dissertation draft. Since my professor wasn't available, I was instructed to leave it on his desk.

The morning's first lecture was General Medicine, which stretched for two and a half hours. This was followed by a two-hour session on General Surgery.

After the intense back-to-back lectures, I felt mentally drained but accomplished. I grabbed a quick bite at a campus café, knowing I needed the break to avoid passing out. As I ate my sandwich (which I abandoned after a few bites because it made me feel weird) and sipped my coffee, I reviewed my notes from the morning.

The 20-minute break felt far too short, but it was time to head to my last lecture of the day:
GYN-OB, my major subject. I gathered my things and made my way to the lecture hall, which ended up being a whole 3-hour lecture and at 4:30 we were all free to go. But of course, before i did that, I needed to get my (hopefully) reviewed dissertation back.

I walked to where I thought my professor would be, only to find a long line of students already waiting. The sight made my stomach churn. The line moved slowly, and with each passing minute, my anxiety grew. 

When it was finally my turn, I faced my professor with a tight knot of nerves in my chest. I introduced myself, and he rifled through the stack of submitted drafts on his table. Pulling mine out, he said, 

"Ah yes, Choi Hana. Looks like I did manage to go through your draft."
He said as he skimmed through the pages once again

"Thank you for your time, Sir"
I managed to reply, trying to push away the self-doubt that gnawed at me.

"But I'm afraid I'm not entirely satisfied with your work. You're a smart and bright student, but when I compare this with your dissertation from last year..."

As expected. I gulped as i waited for him to continue

"...I notice a significant difference. Your previous work demonstrated a greater depth of analysis and originality. This draft seems to lack the same level of insight and thoroughness."

"I understand." 
I felt a wave of disappointment but tried to remain composed. 

The professor nodded, his expression softening slightly.
"I'm confident you can improve it. Take time to refine your statements and strengthen your analysis. I'm looking forward to seeing your revisions."

"Thank you Sir... I appreciate it"
I said, forcing a grateful smile.

He offered a reassuring nod.
"You're welcome. If you need further guidance, feel free to ask."

As I left his office, the weight of the critique was heavy but a little constructive criticism doesn't harm anyone. Well that's what i said, but do I believe in it?

My mom always said, 
"If you're going to do something, do it right. Forget it, you're incapable of doing things right."

Easier said than done mom.

--flashback--

Sometimes I wish I could be treated like a normal child—one who's allowed to make mistakes without the constant scrutiny. Would it really be so hard for them to be a bit gentler?

They were never gentle. There was no room for mistakes. I had to be the perfect daughter.

I remember the day vividly when my mom tried to burn me with a hot spoon. I had stayed up all night studying for an exam that was still two days away because my mother decided to give me all the past paper, telling me to at least 5 of them. Finishing them was a pain in the ass, because I awake the whole night, only left with 2 hours for rest before it was time for school. The mistake I made was falling asleep, thinking that I would wake up. 

But, I woke up late, and realized I had missed a day of school. Panic set in because I knew the school would call my mom to explain my absence.

When the call came, my mom was furious. She even left work and came home. Her anger escalated, and in a moment of rage, she grabbed a hot spoon and tried to punish me. I was twisting and squirming to get away, but in my frantic movements, the spoon ended up searing my ankle instead of my arm. The burn left a harsh scar, although it has faded a lot. 

I was only 15 at the time.

What's even stranger is that I forgave her. After the incident, she sent me to my room and didn't come by until midnight. She appeared beside me with a stoic expression, holding a first aid kit. Gently, she helped clean the wound, and each touch was excruciating. I remember wailing at the slightest contact with the burned area. Despite the pain and the severity of the punishment, her late-night care somehow mended the rift between us, and I found it in myself to forgive her.

It was never talked about again. It was forgotten. Even I pushed it at the back of my head, because i thought of it as one of the ways parents tried to discipline their children.
I thought it was normal.

It wasn't until Jeongin noticed the scar and asked me about it that I truly reflected on it. I told him the story behind it, assuring him that I was okay and had moved past it. But Jeongin insisted that it wasn't okay, and that's when I began to see that my parents' actions—though I had always tried to rationalize them—were deeply flawed. Despite this realization, I still loved them.

Either I deserve it or I'm just too forgiving for my own good.

--end of flashback--

I pull into the hospital parking lot, the digital clock on the dashboard reading 5:20 PM. I'd usually prefer to walk, but I opt for the closer spot, knowing I'll appreciate the convenience later when my legs are tired and sore.

As I head towards the hospital wing, I can't help but feel the familiar mix of anticipation and routine. It's a bit of a race against the clock, but with nearly 40 minutes before my shift starts at 6 PM, I have time to prepare. I make my way to the locker room, where I change into my scrubs and organize my gear. The familiar motions—tying my hair back, adjusting my badge—are almost meditative. 

I then attend a few surgeries from the gallery, observing the skilled senior doctors. One procedure is a complex surgery on a pregnant woman facing complications with her uterus, and another involves a delicate operation for uterine cancer. In moments like these, seeing these cases up close reinforces my drive. I wanted to be the one saving someone's life.

Once the surgeries are over, all the interns are assigned to the ER under the supervision of a resident who is two years ahead of us. She's really kind and supportive. My shift wraps up at 9:40 PM, and I head back to the locker room. By then, a throbbing headache has set in and my feet are starting to ache. My walk to the locker room reminds me that I'm starving and thirsty and regret not eating something better than that disgusting (according to me) sandwich. As I change out of my scrubs and close the locker door, a sudden wave of dizziness hits me. The room begins to blur, and my vision narrows. My heart starts to race, and I can distinctly feel the blood pulsing through my veins. Well that's what happens when you're surviving the whole day on a few bites and coffee. 

Should I really drive home like this? 

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I sit on a bench. My head is still spinning, and the fatigue is palpable. Despite the dizziness and exhaustion, I decide to push through. It's only a 10-minute drive, and I convince myself that I can manage it. I remind myself that it's just a short stretch, and I need to get home. I steady my breathing, gather my things, and head towards the parking lot, determined to make it home.

I grip the steering wheel tightly as I get into my car, trying to focus through the haze of dizziness. The short drive home feels longer than usual, each turn and stoplight testing my resolve. 

As I maneuver through the streets, I fight the urge to close my eyes. The light from the street lamps blurs, and the steady rhythm of the car seems to amplify my headache. I tell myself that I'll be home soon, where I can finally rest. When I finally pull into my driveway, relief washes over me. I manage to get out of the car and make my way inside the building, grateful that I made it without incident. The exhaustion is overwhelming, but I know I'll feel better once I get some food and rest—eventually.

Rest? What a joke. I still have to study and work on my dissertation. The list of tasks seems endless. As I wait for the elevator, my mind races through everything I need to tackle. 

I can barely see what I'm typing into the keypad as I fumble with the buttons, but eventually, I manage to get it right and stumble into the apartment. A sigh of relief escapes me as the comforting aroma of food fills the air, mingling with the sound of Minho singing softly in the kitchen. I could never get used coming back to things like this, it really felt like home.

I hear footsteps approaching, and then Minho's head peeks around the wall that separates the foyer from the kitchen.

"Oh, you're home—Hana, are you okay?"
His voice carries clear concern.

"I'm okay, just exhausted. But I'm starving. Did you cook?"

"Yeah, I did. Freshen up, and I'll get you a plate."

I drop my bags in the corner of the foyer and quickly slip off my shoes. After picking up my bags again, I head down the corridor to my room and hang them there. Washing my face and changing my clothes doesn't take me too long since all I could think about was food and I then make my way to the living room, where we usually have dinner.

The familiar, homely scene offers a brief respite from the chaos of the day, and I'm grateful for this moment of normalcy and the promise of a warm meal, even if there's still a mountain of work waiting for me.

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a/n: Hi everyone 

what you guys up to?

I'm just tired from school