Chapter Text
The skies were blue, the sun shining brightly as the casket was lowered into the ground.
Wasn’t it supposed to be raining, or at least a tad cloudy, whenever there was a funeral? She still remembered how the rain poured at her mother’s funeral, exactly one year ago on this day. How her hand holding the umbrella shivered from the cold, how the umbrella did little to keep her dry from the unending splatters of rain, how her heart had felt so, so numb, how her father had knelt at the grave and refused to get up, even though it was still raining. How she had not taken advantage of the raindrops sliding down her face to cry, but had waited until she was home alone, her father still kneeling at her mother’s grave, for the tears to fall from her eyes, for the heart-wrenching sobs to rack through her entire body.
Her father had never been the same after that day. It seemed fitting, ironically, that he’d chosen to go on the same date as her mother. As her heart ached with the loss of her last surviving family member, she told herself that at least he didn’t have to suffer anymore. At least he didn’t have to keep washing his handkerchiefs due to them being splattered with dark red blood every time he coughed, which was almost every hour. He didn’t have to take pills three times a day that she couldn’t count with all ten fingers. And he would be reunited with her mother, the love of his life, keeping his promise of never leaving her alone.
She looked up at the skies, where white fluffy clouds floated around lazily. It’s a sign to be happy, she told herself. But she was having a hard time believing it.
After the grave had been covered, the little people who’d attended patted her shoulders and whispered comforting words in her ear. She could feel herself nodding and thanking them, but it was out of reflex. She couldn’t bear to look them in the eyes, to see the looks of sympathy etched on their faces.
Because who wouldn’t be sympathetic, when a 10-year-old had just been orphaned?
Even after everyone had left, she didn’t. She knelt down beside the grave, and looked at the tombstone of her father and her mother’s right beside it.
She tried to find words, to tell them that she was afraid, that she didn’t know what to do, but she couldn’t, her throat closed up , signalling impending tears that she’d held back earlier. The realisation hit her in the gut: that she was truly alone, with no one else in the world to lean on, that she would have to learn how to survive on her own-
“I am sorry for your loss.”
She didn’t have to turn around to know who the visitor was; she’d talked to the owner of the voice so many times in the past few years. But she didn’t get up to greet him; her head was light, she couldn’t breathe-
A hand grabbed her shoulder, firmly, but it was with care. “Listen to my voice,” he commanded. “Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. I’m here. I’m here,” he repeated.
As he continued directing her to breathe, she slowly calmed down, tears streaming down her face.
She’d really lost her entire world.
The man didn’t remove his hand from her shoulder as he carefully sat down beside her. For a while, they just sat there, and from afar it would have looked like a beautiful scene; a broken soul seeking comfort, and a kind soul offering it.
When she could find her voice, she spoke. “Thank you for coming.” Her voice was hoarse, but she could speak, and she’d take it.
“He was a good man,” he replied simply.
“I-I know that we still haven’t paid back my mother’s medical bills,” she whispered. “And also my father’s.”
The doctor looked down at her, his eyes filled with patience. “That is true.” He knew it would do the girl no good to deny it, to tell her it was fine. Her maturity was astounding, as he’d realised from the times where she’d followed her parents to the hospital when her mother had been sick, and later when it was only her and her father. But he supposed it was unavoidable; she had no choice but to grow up sooner than needed.
A few weeks ago, when her father had fallen unconscious and had been rushed to the hospital, the girl had been there by his side, refusing to leave unless she had to. When the doctor had came to check on him, her father had asked her to bring him some juice from the hospital cafeteria, and she’d quickly run off after the doctor assured her that he’d look over her father while she was gone.
After the girl left, the doctor had looked at the man lying on the bed quizzically. “Why did you send her away?” Both of them had established a rapport over the years, and the doctor knew that the man had wanted to talk to him in private.
“I haven’t finished paying you back for Miya’s medical bills,” the man had said. It wasn’t a question, and so the doctor merely nodded. “And now mine as well,” the man had sighed. “I can feel it. Death,” he said, answering the unspoken question. “I see Miya in my dreams, telling me to take care of Jihyun, telling me that she’ll see me soon...”
Being a man of science, the doctor wanted to tell him that unfortunately, it was indeed true that all signs pointed to him having two more months left, at most. But he was a man with an open mind, and was truly curious as to whether it was true that people could feel death closing in on them. However, there was a time and place for questions like that, and this wasn’t it. “I am sorry,” was all he could say.
“I do not want to leave Jihyun alone.” The man sighed, his sorrow clear and obvious. “Not a day goes by that I don’t curse myself for getting sick. Now she has to pay for it, by being an orphan at such a young age, saddled with debts that she had no fault in incurring.”
“It is never easy to lose a parent or both parents, regardless of the age.” As someone who sees farewells on a daily basis, the doctor could tell the father that with certainty. “But I pray for her to be strong enough to bear the burden. It is not one a child should bear.”
The girl had returned to the room, apple juice in hand, and that had been the end of the conversation. But for the past few weeks, he had been unable to get the image of that little girl, with hope and fear in her eyes, out of his head. He had been unable to convince himself that she would be fine even after the passing of her father. It had worried him, as he thought he was losing his objectivity, which was a crucial part of being a good doctor.
But he had realised that he could be a good doctor and care about the well-being of a young child who had gone through too many hardships in her life.
Hence, the reason he was here today, saying goodbye to a patient who had been a good man, and hopefully doing the right thing.
“I suppose you know that your father had taken a loan from me, for both your parents’ medical bills.”
The girl nodded. “Please let me know the total sum. I’ll look for work, and I’ll pay you back, no matter how long it takes.”
“You are 10. Are you planning on dropping out from school just to work?”
She was silent for a moment before she replied. “If I don’t work, I’ll starve. We do not have any savings left.”
His heart twinged, but he kept his voice steady as he leaned down so that his eyes met hers. “I have an offer, if you’re interested.”
She looked at him, and waited expectantly.
“Stay with my family, and I’ll raise you as my ward.” He could sense the refusal bubbling out from her, and he grabbed both her shoulders. “It’s not charity,” he explained, understanding her. “My wife and I have been looking for a companion for our son, to take care of him while we cannot.” Which was more often than not, he thought to himself bitterly. As two of the top surgeons in the hospital, the power couple, as the staff liked to call them, had no time for their only son.
“Companion?” She asked softly.
He sensed her question. “Just to keep him company, nothing more.” She visibly relaxed. “You’ll be taken care of, and all you have to do is take care of him.”
“For how long?”
“Until you turn eighteen. The moment you do, all debts will be cleared.”
“I have trouble believing that my ‘company’ is worth that much.”
“My son’s happiness and well-being is priceless,” he countered.
He couldn’t fathom what was going through the girl’s mind; her dark eyes revealed nothing. The silence stretched for so long, he wondered if it was a wrong move.
“Okay.”
A while later, when the caretaker of the graveyard prepared to do his rounds, he saw two figures bow deeply at two tombstones side by side, before they left, hand in hand.