A Month That Quietly Changed Everything

The hospital corridor felt unusually quiet that afternoon. Owen walked briskly toward the doctors’ locker room, yet every step felt heavier—
not from exhaustion,
but because part of him was still left behind in a small apartment room…
with a woman he once loved,
and who, somehow, still had the terrifying ability to make him lose control with just a small smile.

Inside the locker room, Owen pulled open a drawer, grabbed a pair of medical gloves, and inhaled deeply to steady himself before surgery.

But his hand froze midair.

He stared at his palm.
For a long time.
Silent.

The latex glove against his skin felt strange—
as if he had just committed the most unprofessional act of his life.

“…I… patted a patient’s head?” he muttered, disbelief dripping from every word.

He exhaled and shut his eyes once.

Just once.
Just one brief touch on Ailine’s head.
But for him? That was a catastrophe.

His jaw tightened as he opened his eyes again.

“Why did I… listen to her and agree to come again tonight?”

Ailine’s voice echoed in his head:

‘You must! Mandatory! You have to come again!’

And he—Owen Young—
the most disciplined, coldest, temptation-resistant doctor on earth…
actually nodded.
Like a broken robot whose defense system short-circuited.

He dragged his gloved hand over his face.

“…I don’t understand myself.”

At that moment, the locker room door creaked open.

“Now that’s unusual.”

Owen turned.

Dr. Lisa leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyebrows raised high. She’d purposely stopped when she saw him.

“Strange to see you arriving at the hospital this late,” she said, stepping closer. “You usually sleep here. Even the nurses were asking.”

Owen intended to reply normally, but Lisa stared too long—
like she was assessing a patient’s condition.

“Your face… looks different,” she finally said.

“Nothing’s different.”

“Liar.”

“I’m serious.”

Lisa walked around him like a detective circling a prime suspect.

“You’re late, you look tired… but not the work kind. And you were staring at your gloved hands like they committed a crime.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Owen Young, what happened?”

“…Nothing.”

“That’s exactly what people with problems say.”

Owen sighed. “I’m fine. Go back to your work. My patient’s waiting.”

Lisa opened her mouth to question more, but Owen already stepped into the operating area—walking straight, professional… but with steps a bit too stiff.

Lisa frowned. “Tch, kicked out as usual.”

Her gaze lingered on him.

“That’s not the Owen I know…”

The operating room was bright, sterile, and calm. The nurse prepared instruments. Monitors beeped softly. The team waited.

Owen stood at his station.

But before giving the signal, his eyes drifted once more to his gloved hand.

It still felt warm—
as if the remnants of that moment clung to his skin.

Ailine’s grip the previous night.
That impulsive, unintended touch on her head.
Her eyes when she said, “Come again tonight.”

His hand tensed slightly.

He hated this—
the sensation of losing control.
And he hated even more how easily Ailine dismantled the logic he’d built for years.

He cursed under his breath.

“…Ailine.”

A nurse softly asked, “Dr. Owen? Shall we begin?”

Owen blinked.

Professional mode switched back on.

“Begin,” he ordered.

But the faint tremor in his chest never went away.

Hours passed. The operation was flawless—of course. Owen was always professional, even when his mind drifted.

Night fell. Owen sat alone in his office.

His eyes went again to his hands.

The same hands that held Ailine’s fingers last night.
The same hands that—without consulting his brain—patted the top of her head that morning.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes shutting tight.

“…I’ve officially lost my mind.”

He’d done this countless times—
scolding himself for thinking of Ailine more than he should.

He knew very well he had hurt her.
He knew she once cried, begging him not to leave.
And he had promised himself he would never allow his feelings to resurface—
not after years of forcing them down to avoid hurting her again.

But Ailine…

The moment he closed his eyes, he saw her face.
Her small voice—

“Come again, okay…?”

Owen opened his eyes.

For the first time in years…

…he waited for nightfall.

With a feeling that did not belong to an ex-lover.

He shouldn’t.
He couldn’t hurt her again.

But still…

His cold hands grabbed his coat and bag, and he left the hospital to see—

Ailine.

Yes. Ailine.

Owen Young wanted to see Ailine Su.

He even ran.

And when he finally reached her door, she greeted him with a smile he had missed far too much.

Hmm…

Missed, huh?

After that one sick night, something between them quietly shifted—slowly, carefully. They didn’t talk about it, didn’t define it, didn’t try to label anything. But in the four weeks that followed, the small acts of care began to grow into a routine neither of them intended… yet both of them fell into naturally.

Owen came almost every night—sometimes late, sometimes too early, sometimes so tired his eyes were red. Yet Ailine always opened the door before he reached for the bell, as if her body recognized his footsteps. And Owen… never once refused to enter.

Days turned into small, unscripted moments.

If Ailine needed anything—no matter how small—Owen appeared first.
If she struggled opening a medicine cap, Owen walked out of the kitchen, took it, and opened it in one effortless twist that made Ailine want to throw a pillow at him.
When the AC broke at midnight, Owen fixed it himself despite just finishing a sixteen-hour shift.

Sometimes Ailine wondered:

How can someone who claims to be “over it” stay this close?

But she never asked.
And Owen didn’t give her space to.

Maybe this was enough—for now.
The past wasn’t simple.

One night, Ailine felt lonely and texted:

“I’m bored.”

Five minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Owen stood there in a black hoodie, mask, cap—
a top-tier disguise that almost made her laugh… especially when she noticed he brought instant popcorn and two isotonic drinks.

Ever since that near-paparazzi incident months ago, they’d been extremely careful.
Ailine wore an oversized hoodie, Owen handed her an extra mask, and they went down the elevator like two people escaping a covert operation.
They chose the smallest theater, the quietest schedule—sometimes they were the only ones inside—
and that made Ailine even more nervous.

Oddly, Owen never complained about the goofy disguise.
He simply followed along, as if her world of public scrutiny wasn’t a problem.

There were days she wanted to try a new café.
Owen arrived early, checked for cameras, picked the safest table, and ordered patiently even when he had no idea what “caramel cloud latte cream foam swirl” was.
If she craved ramen at midnight, Owen picked her up.
If she wanted to watch street musicians perform, he held her hand so she wouldn’t get lost in the crowd.

But their relationship wasn’t always soft.
There were awkward moments when Ailine felt too close and pulled away for a few days.
Owen never stopped her, but he still came by with fruit or vitamins, saying he was “just passing by.”
Other times, Ailine snapped because Owen came home too late, and he’d annoy her with a blunt reply about being a doctor, not a fairy delivering happiness.

Yet hours later, they returned to normal.

One month became a new safe space.
A place to talk again without hurting each other.
A place to realize old wounds might not be fully healed…
but at least they weren’t bleeding anymore.

Nothing official changed—
no “getting back together,”
no confessions,
no intentional hugs—
but everyone around them felt something rekindling from the ashes.

Even Emma said:

“If you two aren’t soulmates, I swear you’ll keep bumping into each other at minimarkets until you’re old.”

And somehow, when Ailine saw Owen on her couch reading medical journals, she felt like someone had quietly returned a missing half of her.

Their relationship wasn’t perfect.
Not fully healed.
But one thing became clear—

They were no longer living separately.
Not entirely.
Not anymore.
And maybe… never again.

“Owen! I want to watch another movie! Let’s go to the cinema!”

“Again?”

“Yes, again! It’s fun going out in disguise—thrilling, you know…”

“No. Don’t go too often! If fans catch you, it’ll become a circus!”

“Come on…”

“No.”

Ailine pouted cutely. “Dr. Owen… please? We won’t see each other for five days because I’m flying overseas for a photoshoot… pleaaase…” blink blink

Owen sighed. “…Fine, fine…”

He lost again.

Ailine cheered like a child.

One month moved like a soft shadow that followed them everywhere.
Never close enough to burn,
yet never far enough to disappear.

They laughed more.
They bickered more.
And somehow, they grew used to each other again.

No “getting back together.”
No sweet promises.
No declarations of love.

But Ailine knew—
her heart fluttered every time Owen knocked on her door wearing a hoodie and mask like he was guarding the world’s most dangerous secret.

And Owen…
Somehow, he memorized her schedule, ordered her favorite drinks, and sensed when she needed a silent hug—though he never gave one.

They didn’t talk about love.
Not the past.
Not the future.

But both of them knew—

Something was moving again.
Slowly.
Quietly.
And neither tried to stop it.

Maybe it had to be this way.
Maybe slow was the only path left for a once-broken relationship.

And that month—
without them realizing—
was their first step.