The rain returned just as the clock struck nine.
It began as a whisper against the windows — a soft tapping that soon grew into a steady rhythm, blurring the city lights into liquid gold. From her office window, Dr. Akhiera Smith watched the drops race down the glass, each one a reflection of the fatigue and quiet contentment that came with another day survived.
Her shift had ended, but the paperwork had not. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, glanced at the growing stack of patient files, and sighed. The hospital was almost empty now — corridors humming with distant machines, nurses exchanging soft goodnights.
Another late night, she thought.
When she finally packed her things and stepped outside the building, the rain greeted her full force. It poured down in waves, drenching the pavement and sending a river through the parking lot. She looked up, letting a few cold drops hit her face. Of course, she had forgotten her umbrella again.
"Unbelievable," she muttered. "Every single time."
"Still no umbrella?"
The familiar voice came from behind her, warm and teasing.
She turned to see Dr. Hyunwoo Kang, leaning casually under the hospital's awning, holding — naturally — an umbrella. His scrubs were half-covered by a dark coat, his hair slightly tousled from the humidity. There was that same amused smile on his face, the one that softened everything around him.
Akhiera crossed her arms, pretending to glare. "Do you follow me just to remind me of that?"
He shrugged. "Maybe I'm just really good at showing up at the right time."
"Or you enjoy being everyone's umbrella hero."
"Only yours, apparently."
Her heart gave an uninvited flutter at that. She opened her mouth to respond, but he was already stepping closer, lifting the umbrella toward her. "Come on. Unless you want to test how waterproof that coat really is."
Reluctantly — though not really — she stepped under the umbrella. Their shoulders brushed as they started walking, the soft pat-pat-pat of rain filling the silence between them.
"Long day?" he asked.
"Three surgeries back-to-back," she replied. "But good outcomes. That's what matters."
"Good outcomes," he repeated with a nod. "That's how you measure your days, huh?"
"How else?"
"Sometimes I count smiles instead."
She glanced up at him, half-amused. "That sounds very… idealistic for a surgeon."
"Maybe," he said with a faint grin. "But it keeps me from going numb. Hospitals can do that to you, you know."
Akhiera looked down at the rain pooling around their feet. "I know."
They walked in silence again — the kind that didn't demand to be filled. Around them, Seoul shimmered. Neon reflections stretched across puddles, streetlights blinked through the mist, and the city hummed softly beneath the rain.
"Are you hungry?" Hyunwoo asked suddenly. "There's a street stall two blocks down. Best tteokbokki in Jongno."
She hesitated, glancing at the time. "It's past nine."
"Exactly," he said. "That's when it's best."
Akhiera laughed. "You're impossible."
"Come on, Dr. Smith," he said, using her title playfully. "You can't live in Seoul and not eat street food in the rain at least once."
She sighed, pretending to give in. "Fine. Lead the way, Dr. Kang."
The stall was a small, steamy haven under a red awning. The owner, Ms. Eunhee Choi, greeted Hyunwoo with motherly affection.
"You again?" she said, hands on her hips. "Didn't I see you here yesterday?"
Hyunwoo grinned. "That was my twin."
Eunhee rolled her eyes, then smiled when she noticed Akhiera. "Ah, new friend!"
"Colleague," Hyunwoo corrected with mock seriousness.
"Friend," Eunhee repeated firmly, already ladling steaming rice cakes into two bowls. "You can tell when two people are meant to share a meal."
Akhiera blushed, laughing it off as she took a seat on one of the tiny stools. The rain drummed against the tarp roof, mingling with the sizzle of hot oil and the aroma of gochujang and garlic.
Hyunwoo set the umbrella aside and sat across from her. "Told you it's worth it."
She took a bite — spicy, sweet, comforting. "Okay," she said, smiling. "You were right."
He raised an eyebrow. "Can you say that louder? I don't hear it often."
She chuckled. "You're impossible, remember?"
"Persistent," he corrected.
Eunhee leaned over with two mugs of hot barley tea. "You two talk like an old married couple."
Hyunwoo nearly choked on his food. "We just met, Ms. Choi."
"Mm, fate works fast when it rains," she said wisely, patting his shoulder.
Akhiera couldn't stop laughing this time. The warmth of it surprised her — not polite, not restrained, but real. The kind that reached her eyes and made her cheeks ache.
For a moment, the months of loneliness, of newness, of holding herself perfectly together — all melted away in that laughter.
Hyunwoo watched her quietly, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. He didn't say anything, but something changed in his expression — a flicker of realization, soft and certain.
Outside, the rain slowed to a drizzle. Inside, under the glow of a single light bulb, two doctors shared food, warmth, and the quiet joy of something new.
When they finally left, the streets were nearly empty. The umbrella came out again, and they walked slower this time, not minding the puddles.
"Thank you," Akhiera said softly. "For… this."
"For the tteokbokki?"
"For reminding me that I'm allowed to slow down."
Hyunwoo looked at her for a moment before replying, his voice low. "You don't have to do everything alone, you know."
Her throat tightened slightly. "I'm used to it."
"I can tell," he said gently. "But maybe Seoul doesn't have to be something you face alone."
She wanted to answer, to explain how hard it had been to trust that idea — but all she could manage was a small nod.
When they reached her building, he stopped. "You'll find the hospital easily tomorrow?"
She smiled, teasing. "I have a map this time."
He pretended to sigh in relief. "Good. Because I'm not rescuing you again."
"You'd miss it," she said.
He grinned. "Maybe."
The rain had turned to mist now, hanging like a veil between them. He lifted the umbrella slightly so she could step out from beneath it.
"Goodnight, Dr. Smith."
"Goodnight, Dr. Kang."
As she walked toward her door, Akhiera turned once more. He was still there — standing under the dim streetlight, watching her go, the umbrella tilted slightly to the side.
For the first time in a long while, she felt something gentle stir inside her — not the rush of infatuation, but the quiet warmth of belonging.
Maybe the rain wasn't just a beginning. Maybe it was a promise.