I’ve lost track of how much time has passed—months, days, hours. Life keeps moving forward no matter what happens to you. It’s a reminder that everything eventually fades, gets left behind, and someday, becomes just another memory.
It’s been years now. Month after month goes by, but that feeling of emptiness still lingers. Like something’s missing. Like I’m not whole anymore. I’ve become so focused on my goals that I’ve started forgetting the things that used to make me happy. Maybe that’s just how it is—when you pour all your energy into one thing, everything else starts to slip away.
Passing the licensure exam was a huge achievement, and of course, I was happy. But I knew that wasn’t the end of the road. If anything, it was just the beginning—the first step into a whole new chapter of my life.
It’s been a year since I got into Harvard Medical School. I’ve been living here since then because commuting wasn’t an option—too far, too exhausting. There were dorms on campus, but I decided to rent a place nearby instead. It was a little more expensive, but at least I had more space and privacy.
I got in through a scholarship. Right after passing the licensure exam, I applied immediately, hoping I’d make it. Luckily, I did. Noah, of course, didn’t need to go through all that. He followed me here without hesitation, but unlike me, he never had to worry about tuition fees. His family’s wealth meant he could afford to study wherever he wanted without giving it a second thought. Must be nice to have that kind of freedom.
Now, it’s winter, and the city is covered in snow. The air is freezing as I step out of my apartment, making me instinctively pull my coat tighter around me. It’s a long, navy wool coat, cinched at the waist with a belt to keep the warmth in. Underneath, I’m wearing a fitted turtleneck sweater and high-waisted wool trousers—comfortable yet polished. A thick, knitted scarf is wrapped around my neck, and my hands are tucked into sleek leather gloves. To finish it off, I’m wearing knee-high heeled boots, their dark color standing out against the fresh snow beneath my feet.
I exhale, watching my breath turn into mist in the cold air as I start walking toward campus. A new day. A fresh start. And yet, that emptiness is still there, lingering, waiting.
The crisp winter air stung my cheeks as I walked toward campus, my boots making soft crunching sounds against the snow-covered pavement. The city was alive despite the cold—students hurrying to their morning classes, bundled in thick coats, coffee cups in hand. I pulled my scarf up higher, trying to trap more warmth, but it didn’t stop the chill from seeping into my bones.
Harvard Medical School loomed in the distance, its grand architecture standing strong against the winter sky. Even after a year, stepping onto this campus still felt surreal. The weight of expectations, the pressure to prove myself—it never really went away. If anything, it only grew heavier.
As I neared the entrance, my phone buzzed inside my coat pocket. I fished it out with gloved hands and saw Noah’s name on the screen.
Noah: Where are you? Class is about to start.
Me: On my way. Chill.
Noah: Hurry up. I’m saving you a seat, but I won’t fight someone for it.
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. Noah had always been like this—blunt, impatient, but reliable. He didn’t have to wait for me, yet he always did.
The main hall was warm compared to the outside, but the scent of freshly brewed coffee and old books filled the air instead of the sharp, icy wind. Students filled the lecture hall, some already deep in conversation, others quietly reviewing their notes. I spotted Noah near the front, his tall frame relaxed as he scrolled through his phone.
“You’re late,” he muttered as I slid into the seat beside him.
I unwrapped my scarf and raised a brow. “By two minutes.”
“Still late.” He handed me a cup of coffee without looking up, and I blinked in surprise.
“You got me coffee?”
“Not really. Someone handed it to me, and I don’t want it.”
I snorted. Typical Noah. But I accepted it anyway, letting the warmth seep into my fingers.
As the professor walked in, the lecture hall quieted down. I straightened in my seat, flipping open my notebook. This was it—another day of endless studying, sleepless nights, and the constant pressure to be better than yesterday.
And yet, even as I focused on the lecture, that nagging emptiness remained. Like a shadow I couldn’t shake off.
The afternoon passed in a blur of back-to-back classes and case discussions. By the time I stepped out of the lecture hall, the winter air hit me like a sharp reminder that I had spent the entire day indoors. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, dusting the university grounds in white.
I pulled my coat tighter around me, adjusting the thick scarf around my neck. The campus was still busy, students rushing to their next classes or huddled in small groups, their laughter and conversations blending into the crisp air.
Noah was waiting near the entrance, leaning casually against a pillar with his hands stuffed into his coat pockets. His breath came out in faint clouds as he exhaled, his expression unreadable.
“Library again?” he asked as soon as I reached him.
I shrugged. “You know me.”
“Yeah, I do. That’s why I already ordered coffee.” He lifted a takeaway cup and handed it to me.
I blinked in surprise but took it without protest. “What’s this?”
“Your usual. Black, no sugar, so you can keep pretending you don’t need sleep.”
I smirked but accepted the warmth of the cup in my gloved hands. “You’re starting to sound like an old man.”
He scoffed. “And you’re starting to sound like a hermit.”
I laughed softly, shaking my head. Moments like these were rare now—where everything felt light, like we weren’t buried under the weight of expectations and responsibilities.
We walked side by side down the stone path, boots crunching against the fresh snow. The sky had darkened slightly, a soft gradient of purples and blues settling over the city.
“Have you thought about going home for the holidays?” Noah asked after a moment.
I hesitated, my grip tightening around the coffee cup.
Home.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to. I missed Rain, Alessa, even the loud chaos of their usual gatherings. But I also knew what—or rather, who—I might run into if I went back. And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that yet.
“I’ll think about it,” I said vaguely.
Noah didn’t push. He never did. But the look he gave me said enough.
“Alright,” he said, exhaling as he kicked at a chunk of ice. “Just don’t work yourself to death.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s literally the goal of med school.”
He chuckled. “Touché.”
We reached the end of the path where our ways split—Noah heading toward the parking lot while I veered left toward my apartment.
“Get some rest, Viv,” he called over his shoulder.
I lifted my cup in response. “No promises.”
He only shook his head, muttering something about how I was impossible before walking away.
I watched him leave, then turned toward my building. The city lights shimmered in the distance, blending with the soft glow of snow-covered streets.
I told myself I was fine. That I had built a new life here, away from everything I left behind.
But as I climbed the stairs to my apartment, an old thought crept in—
What if going home wasn’t about who I might see, but about finally facing the things I ran away from?
The thought lingered as I unlocked my apartment door, the familiar quiet greeting me the moment I stepped inside. The space was small but neat—textbooks stacked on the coffee table, notes pinned haphazardly to the corkboard near my desk, and a single cup left in the sink from this morning’s rushed breakfast.
I set my coffee down on the counter, shrugging off my coat and scarf before sinking onto the couch. My body ached from the long day, but my mind wouldn’t settle.
What if going home wasn’t about who I might see, but about finally facing the things I ran away from?
I hated how that question refused to leave me alone.
I had spent the past year convincing myself that staying here was the right choice. That my world now revolved around Harvard, the hospital, and my goals. That I had no reason to look back.
But was that true?
I picked up my phone, my thumb hovering over Rain’s contact. I could already imagine her reaction if I told her I was thinking of coming home for the holidays. Excitement, teasing, maybe even a little scolding for waiting so long.
And Alessa… I smiled a little at the thought of her. She always had this way of making everything feel easy, like things didn’t have to be so complicated.
My finger almost tapped the call button. Almost.
Instead, I locked the screen and tossed my phone onto the couch beside me.
Not yet.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
It wasn’t just about seeing them again. It was about the unfinished parts of my past—the ones I had carefully avoided, pretending they didn’t affect me anymore.
And him.
Lucas.
Even just thinking his name sent an unfamiliar tightness through my chest.
It wasn’t fair, really. How someone could leave such a lasting imprint even when they were no longer part of your life. How their absence could feel just as heavy as their presence once did.
Maybe that was why I hesitated. Because going home meant acknowledging that some things had changed forever.
A sharp sigh left my lips as I rubbed my temples.
It’s just a holiday, Vivienne. Not the end of the world.
Still, I knew that if I stepped foot back home, I would no longer be able to hide behind the distance.
And that scared me more than I wanted to admit.
The days blurred into a routine after that—lectures, late-night studying. But the thought of home stayed at the back of my mind, no matter how much I tried to drown it in responsibilities.
It was Noah who finally broke the cycle.
“Did you book your flight yet?” he asked one evening as we walked out of the hospital together.
I sighed. “Who said I was going?”
Noah gave me a pointed look. “Viv, we both know you want to.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but no words came out.
Because he was right.
I did want to.
But I know Rain would understand if I didn't go home for the holidays… right?
I let out a deep sigh.