YOU ARE MY LIGHT

CHAPTER 18 : THE FIRST TIME I CRIED FOR A MAN

“Juliet… Juliet!”

Her voice pulled me back from the storm raging in my mind.

“Wh— yes?” I answered, my voice trembling slightly as I tried to gather myself.

“What’s wrong? You look lost. You heard me, right?” she asked, smiling brightly.

I forced my lips to curve upward.

“Yes… I heard you.” My voice sounded distant, even to me. “Congratulations to you and Mr. Vincent.”

The words felt like glass in my throat.

Her smile widened. “I hope you can make out time and come.”

I nodded.

She walked away, light and happy while I stayed there.

Still.

Frozen.

Then slowly… painfully…

The tears came.

One slipped down first.

Then another.

Juliet… how could you believe in love?

After everything you witnessed. After watching your mother endure pain in silence. After promising yourself you would never be that weak.

How did you lower your walls… and let someone in?

So I’m in love with a man who belongs to someone else.

My chest tightened.

I pressed my palm against my mouth, trying to stop the sound rising in my throat.

I tried to breathe normally.

Tried to be strong.

But for the first time in my life…

I wanted to cry because of a man.

My vision blurred completely.

I couldn’t go to my mum.

I couldn’t tell her I had made the same mistake she once did — loving someone who might never choose me.

Without thinking, my legs started moving.

I stopped in front of my father’s room.

I didn’t even know how I got there.

I turned slightly, about to walk away.

“Juliet,” his voice came from inside.

I quickly wiped my cheeks and pushed the door open.

He was packing his bag.

“Dad… let me help you.”

I needed something to hold on to. Something solid.

I bent down and started folding his clothes carefully, but my hands were trembling.

“Juliet… are you okay?”

I nodded.

He stepped closer.

“Juliet—”

The moment his fingers brushed my shoulder, everything collapsed.

My knees weakened, and I grabbed his shirt tightly like I was drowning.

“I’m not okay,” my voice cracked. “I’m not okay, Dad.”

The tears poured freely now.

“How can you make someone believe you love them… and then walk away?” I cried. “Why get close when you’re not serious? Why make us feel safe… and then make us suffer?”

My grip tightened on his shirt.

“Are we a game to you? Do you think we’re weak?”

I wasn’t just talking about one person.

I was talking about my childhood.

About my mother’s silent tears.

About love that felt temporary.

“Why make us believe in something… and then take it away?” I sobbed.

My body shook.

For the first time I could remember…

My father wrapped his arms around me.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t smooth.

But it was real.

“It’s okay… Juliet,” he whispered, patting my back slowly.

“Why does it hurt this much?” I cried against his chest.

He didn’t answer immediately.

“I don’t know what happened,” he said quietly. “And I don’t know if I deserve to ask. But one thing I know… a man who truly loves you will never make you suffer knowingly. And even when problems come, real love doesn’t run away. It tries to fix things.”

His voice wasn’t loud.

But it stayed.

The crying slowly reduced to soft breaths.

“Are you okay now?” he asked.

I nodded weakly.

He picked up his bag.

“I’ll be going now. I hope you and your mum find happiness.”

“I’ll see you out—”

“No.” He gave a small, almost sad smile. “Take care of your eyes first.”

I nodded.

He walked away.

I stayed there, pretending it didn’t hurt.

But it did.

After he left, I sat on the warm floor.

Wouldn’t it have been better if he had loved Mum like this?

I pushed the thought away quickly.

I washed my face.

I can do this.

I can forget Mr. Vincent.

He’s just another man who walked into my life… and will walk out.

I packed everything in my father’s room and sent the sheets for washing before heading to the head nurse’s office.

“Ma, good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, Juliet. I was about to call you… is something wrong?”

“No, Ma. You can tell me what you wanted to say.”

She hesitated.

“Juliet… you’ll have to stop working as Mr. Vincent’s assistant for now. The chairman assigned Dora instead.”

My heart paused for a second.

She leaned closer. “Besides… I heard they might travel abroad after the marriage.”

Marriage.

The word echoed.

“It’s okay, Ma,” I said calmly, placing my transfer request on her desk. “That was why I came.”

“Really? But why?”

“…Because I heard he’s getting married.”

She lowered her voice. “It’s still a secret.”

Of course it is.

I stepped out of the office.

Why hide it? Is this some kind of K-drama secret office romance?

I let out a dry laugh.

“Thank God I’m free from this love triangle,” I muttered, pretending relief.

Days passed.

Then a week.

I made sure I never crossed his path.

Until that afternoon.

I was smiling after checking on a funny patient when I stepped into the hallway.

And saw him.

Walking toward me.

“Juliet,” he called.

My heart jumped violently.

I turned quickly and walked faster, pretending I didn’t hear.

I slipped behind another corridor and pressed myself against the wall.

I peeked slightly.

He was still standing there.

Looking around.

Searching.

“Juliet… why are you hiding?” I whispered to myself. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I tried to step out.

But my feet refused to move.

Maybe I’m running because I don’t want to hear him say it.

I don’t want to hear, I’m getting engaged.

“You’re really crazy,” I murmured.

Crazy in love.

“Vincent,” another doctor called. “We have to go.”

He nodded slowly.

But before walking away, he turned again.

His eyes fixed on the exact direction I was hiding.

His jaw tightened slightly.

His hand clenched into a fist before relaxing.

“What’s wrong?” the doctor asked, placing an arm over his shoulder. “You’ve been too quiet these days.”

Vincent didn’t answer immediately.

His eyes lingered in my direction for a second longer before he finally turned away.

They began walking down the hallway.

I exhaled slowly, thinking it was over.

But then I heard the doctor’s voice again — lower this time.

“You’re really going through with it?”

Vincent stopped walking.

There was a pause.

A heavy one.

“I don’t have a choice,” he replied quietly, as if the words cost him something.

My heart skipped.

Don’t have a choice?

Choice about what?