YOU ARE MY LIGHT

CHAPTER 2: THE MESSAGE THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING

I was staring at my phone that quiet night, the kind of quiet that made my chest feel too loud. The house was calm—my father hadn’t come back yet. Nights like this made it easier to breathe, even if only a little. No shouting, no heavy footsteps, no tension hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break. Just silence… and my phone.

My eyes refused to leave the screen. I held it tightly, as if staring hard enough could make it light up. My heart raced with every passing second—hope and fear tangled together in a way that made my chest ache. What I was waiting for wasn’t just a message. It felt like my entire future was locked inside that small device.

An admission letter.

That single message carried my dreams, my prayers, and my silent cries. It carried my hope of becoming a nurse.

I had wanted to study nursing for as long as I could remember, yet sometimes I wondered why. Why nursing? Why this dream? I never had a clear answer, but my heart leaned toward it naturally. Just thinking about it made me feel alive.

Still, doubt crept in quietly.

Maybe I wanted to become a nurse because I wanted to leave this house. The thought startled me. I shook my head. No, that couldn’t be it. I would never run away from my mother. She was the reason I stayed strong, the reason I learned to endure. Leaving her behind would feel like abandoning the only safe place I knew—even if that safety was fragile.

As I lay there, phone glowing faintly in my hands, another thought surfaced—softer, gentler.

Maybe nursing was where my happiness lay. Maybe it was about standing on my own, building something for myself, doing something meaningful. Something that belonged to me. Something that didn’t depend on anyone’s moods, anger, or approval.

I exhaled slowly, still staring at the screen, my thumb hovering uselessly above it. Then suddenly, the screen lit up. A notification.

For a second, I couldn’t move. My breath caught. My fingers trembled so badly I almost dropped the phone. Fear rushed in before joy had a chance to breathe.

What if it wasn’t what I hoped for? What if it was another disappointment disguised as hope?

I swallowed hard and opened the message.

It was the admission letter.

I had been accepted.

I stared at the words, reading them again and again, as if they might disappear if I blinked. Nursing. My dream course. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst. Happiness flooded through me—warm, overwhelming, and completely mine.

I laughed softly and covered my mouth when tears spilled from my eyes. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt this kind of joy—pure, untainted, and earned.

I jumped up and rushed to my mother’s room, my feet barely touching the floor. My heart was racing, but this time it wasn’t from fear.

“Mum,” I called, my voice shaking, “I got it.”

She looked up, confusion turning into concern. “Got what?”

I placed the phone in her hands and watched her read the message. When understanding dawned, her eyes softened, and she pulled me into a tight embrace. Her arms wrapped around me in a way that made me feel small again, safe again.

“I’m proud of you,” she whispered.

Those words healed something I didn’t even realize was broken. Tears flowed freely, not from sadness, but from relief. Something good had finally found its way to us.

That night, as I lay back on my bed, phone beside me, I smiled. For the first time in a long while, the future didn’t scare me. My walls were still high and strong, built carefully over years of pain. Love was still something I observed from a distance, safer on a screen than in real life.

But this dream—this acceptance—was real.

Maybe, just maybe, it was the first step toward a life where I could learn to trust myself… even if trusting others would take longer.

A few months later, I officially became a nursing student. Life moved forward quietly. Classes, reading, and learning to be independent filled my days. My walls were still tall and firm, and I avoided unnecessary attachments.

Ironically, I still loved watching romantic dramas. Late nights found me curled up with my phone, headphones on, heart fluttering over fictional love stories. I laughed at myself—someone who didn’t believe in love enjoying romance so much , but it was harmless. In dramas, love was safe. In real life, it remained distant.

Then came the internship.

As part of my training, I had to apply for a placement, and I chose the biggest hospital in the city—Skylike Medical Center. Working there had been a dream since nursing school. People spoke about it with respect. It was a place that shaped professionals.

Submitting that application brought back a familiar feeling: the waiting. Once again, my phone barely left my hands. Each notification made my heart jump. When I finally received an invitation for an interview, I nearly screamed.

God was still on my side.

I couldn’t sleep that night. My mind raced—what to wear, what to say, how to answer questions confidently. I planned every detail. I wanted to arrive early, calm, and confident. This interview meant everything.

Exhaustion caught up with me, though, and I fell asleep accidentally.

The next morning, reality hit like cold water. The alarm blared. My interview was in less than two hours.

“Oh my God,” I whispered in panic. “This isn’t fair.”

I rushed through my morning routine, skipping breakfast entirely. My stomach growled, my hands shook as I dressed. Frustration rose in my chest.

On the street, I spotted a convenience store. I rushed in, grabbed water, snacks, and coffee, and paid quickly.

And then..I bumped into someone.

Coffee splashed onto the person in front of me.

“Oh no, no, no,” I muttered, horror-struck. “I don’t have time for this.”

I raised my head slowly.

My brain completely stopped.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Ridiculously handsome. My heart skipped.

I stared, frozen. My dream guy. And I had no idea what to do.

“Chuseumnida,” I blurted out.

Instant regret. Why did I just speak Korean?

A soft smirk. A low chuckle. I looked up to see him smiling—amused, not mocking.

I scrambled for money. “I...I’ll pay for the clothes,” I stammered, shoving a dollar into his hand. I didn’t wait for a response and ran out.

By the time I arrived at the hospital, my heart was still racing , from embarrassment, hunger, and fear.

The interview, surprisingly, went well. God truly was on my side.

Later, I realized the money I gave him was… a dollar.

I groaned, covering my face. I was officially the most embarrassing person alive.

Little did I know… I would meet him again.