“We’re here,” Chanyeol parked the car right in front of the so familiar gray building. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

I could feel the worries scratching at the back of his calm façade as his beautiful brown eyes watched me undo the seatbelt. And I couldn’t look him in the eyes and tell him that everything was alright. So I did as always and plastered a smile on my lips while picking up my bag from the back seat. “It’s alright, you have to prepare for your exams,” I pulled out my crutches as well and hopped out on one leg.

“Seon Yul,” his big hand sustained me by my arm as he took care of my crutches with the other one, “I will be there for you if you need me. Just say the word. You’re the most important to me, you know that,” his warm lips rested on my forehead giving me some moments of tranquility.

“No,” I ended up pushing him away once again, “it’s fine, really. I have an appointment anyway and I don’t want you to –” I gulped and lowered my eyes to hide my thoughts ‘… be there when they tell me I’ve gone mad’, “wait for hours in front of a door. Go back to the dorm and study for your exams. I’ll be just fine, really.”

“Seon Yul –”

“See you later, Chanyeol,” I waved him off before stepping inside the building.

I didn’t dare looking back for I knew he was still there, peaking inside, watching over me from a distance just in case I was to trip over and fall or change my mind and run back into his always open arms. But I wasn’t going to do any of those. So I clenched my teeth and carried on my way, trying to keep reality close to my mind as much as possible.

“Hello,” I stopped in front of the secretary that welcomed me with a pretty and serene smile, “I have an appointment with doctor Zhang.”

“Your name please?”

“Go Seon Yul,” I watched her move her fingers over the keyboard.

“You can wait inside the office. The doctor will be here soon,” she led the way inside the mahogany office, helping my slow steps down the two steps of the room. “Can I bring you anything? Coffee? Hot chocolate? Water?” The secretary smiled as I installed myself in the leather couch.

“Just a glass of water, thank you,” I arranged my crutches on the right side of me.

“Sure! I’ll be back in a bit.”

As she made her way out of the room I couldn’t stop myself from smiling bitterly. It was so easy to be normal and yet there I was, struggling with myself on the inside and in need of specialized help. But I guess I was deserving every bit of it.

“Oh, hello there, Miss Go,” a man greeted. “How are we feeling today?”

“Thank you for seeing me so quickly, doctor,” I tried to stand and failed miserably as my leg gave in under the pressure of the sudden movement.

“Don’t try to stand, miss,” he helped me reposition my leg so it wouldn’t hurt when moved. “I take that it hasn’t passed much from your accident?”

“Two weeks,” I whispered, my heartbeat accelerating al of a sudden.

“So, what can I do for you?” He pushed one of the armchairs closer to the place where I was sitting. “Oh, Mina! Thank you,” he smiled to the secretary that brought in a cup of coffee and my glass of water. “Miss?”

“It’s been two weeks already since my accident and since…” I stopped gulping.

“And since?”

I forced myself. I knew it was a question that was going to be asked no matter where I would go to ask for help. And he needed to know everything in order to be able to help me. I was aware of that. But the words still got stuck inside my throat, refusing to roll off my tongue. “Since my best friend died,” I let it out in a single breath.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Was the accident your fault?” The doctor looked me in the eye when he asked that.

“Wha-?! No!” My eyes widened at his bluntness. “Where did that idea come from?”

He crossed his legs and slowly took off his glasses to wipe them clean. “Many victims of accidents come visit me after feeling guilty for causing someone’s death during that accident. So I assumed you as well came to me because of that. But I see I’m wrong.”

Just like that. No apology, no feeling of remorse, no nothing. Cold and professional.

“Strange things started happening after the funeral,” I chose to carry on. “Strange things like finding my pictures with my best friend scattered on the floor or her favourite picture pinned in the middle of my English essay. I even got a message written in her favourite red lipstick on my pocket mirror, saying that she’s here, with me.”

“She?”

“My best friend.”

“The one who died in the accident?”

“Yes, sir,” I played with my fingers, anxiously looking around, waiting for that cold chills to go down my spine.

“Maybe someone