As night fell over Sun Hospital, in building 3, room 47, young Claire still wasn't asleep.
"It's been five days since he last came… He must have given up like the others… After all, I'm a hopeless case," she said as she got out of bed and walked toward the window.
Claire opened the window to look at the garden under the full‑moon night. Her face seemed to brighten at the sight of it. She had always loved taking care of plants with her mother since childhood, so watching a garden was always soothing for her.
"It looks like they didn't take care of the cherry trees today. They look drier than usual," she sighed.
Someone then knocked on her door.
"Sorry for barging in," said a young woman as she entered the room.
She looked like a high‑schooler, almost a perfect copy of Claire, though younger and with a livelier complexion.
"Hey, sis…" Claire replied coldly.
"I came to watch over you today. Mom asked me to," she said before sitting silently on a chair.
Claire's face hardened as she turned her gaze back toward the garden.
…
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
"Ah~" I yawned when I heard the noise at my door.
I got up from my bed to check the time on my alarm clock.
"Who the hell is coming to see me at 11:37 PM…" I complained as I dragged myself to the door.
I opened it and saw a face I hadn't seen in a while. Someone a bit taller than me—obviously less handsome, but he hadn't changed much. Same hairstyle, always neat, except now he had a small goatee. He was dressed casually as always, and he looked way more built than me. It was my best friend, Arthur. The archetype of a Black guy with a tough‑guy aura, though in reality he was just a big soft‑hearted dude.
"Hey, man," said the bastard in front of me, his face unusually serious for someone normally so cheerful.
"Dude, do you know what time it is…" I scolded him.
He suddenly pulled me into a hug.
"Sorry for coming so late. My condolences for your father," he said sincerely.
It had been a while since I last saw him…
That idiot really doesn't know how to behave. I missed him though.
"Don't worry about it, man," I said, inviting him inside.
"This place is a mess as always. You'll never find a woman with a room like this," he laughed.
His presence made me nostalgic. It reminded me of the past. Ever since he left, the place felt empty.
"I'm not looking for one right now," I sighed.
"Nothing's changed. This reminds me of when we were roommates, staying up all night playing games before exams," he said, laughing as he made himself comfortable on my couch.
Well, he bought it, so whatever.
I went to the kitchen to at least offer him something since he was a guest.
"You want tea, like always?" I asked, curious if his habits had changed.
"As always! Are you gonna cook something? I've missed your cooking. My wife only makes European dishes and I'm getting tired of it. Your special meals better still be amazing," he said with so much enthusiasm that it rubbed off on me.
"Yeah, yeah, don't worry! I'll make you spicy chicken and vegetable skewers—you won't know what hit you," I said, feeling my energy return.
"No! You know I can't resist those!" he said, terrified.
"Haha, too bad for you!" I laughed.
Seeing an old friend again really does wonders. It had been a few days since my father's funeral, and it hadn't been easy—between the family who didn't want to see me and my siblings who were angry with me.
We'd known each other since we were twelve. We'd been through almost everything together: first loves, first heartbreaks, exhausting high‑school life, the freedom and fatigue of university. We even lived together here from age eighteen. I studied medicine, he studied business. At twenty‑three he was already working while I was still studying, and he never missed a chance to tease me. At twenty‑four he found love—this beautiful Korean woman, an anonymous yet incredibly famous author. He really found a rare gem. And he loved reminding me of my single life until he left at twenty‑six to marry her. Their wedding was beautiful; I was the best man. Now he has two kids—little twins.
"Life goes too fast," I said with a faint smile as I seasoned the skewers.