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Jan-di’s baby diapering skills, she had to admit, were a little rusty from disuse. It was early, and Jun-pyo was asleep in the chair next to the hospital bed, his neck crooked at an uncomfortable angle. Hee-jin kicked her tiny feet and mewled in protest at the cool morning air on her bare skin, urging her mother to hurry, hurry. Jan-di’s first night of motherhood had been punctuated by newborn feedings and nurses checking her vital signs, so she was feeling a bit frazzled and sleep-deprived already. Jun-pyo had graciously held Hee-jin for much of the night, at least when she wasn’t eating, but he had drawn the line at changing diapers. “The heir of Shinhwa does not handle baby poop!” he had declared.

Too tired to fight about it, Jan-di had settled for rolling her eyes, silently resolving to take up that battle another day. Yawning, she rolled up the tiny soiled diaper and chucked it into the bio waste disposal, then washed her hands at the room’s tiny sink before settling back into bed with her freshly fed, changed, and bundled up baby girl. Hee-jin was already asleep again. In the silence, she sighed and made a soft sound with her lips. Jan-di smiled. Tenderly, she touched Hee-jin’s cheek and then her curled palm, marveling at her tiny, perfect fingernails. Was it really possible that she, Jan-di, was a mother? She didn’t feel especially wise or strong. And yet, gazing down at the soft, dark hair and sweet baby face of her sleeping daughter, a fierce and frightening wave of protectiveness swept over her, unlike anything she’d ever felt. She knew that she would do anything to ensure the happiness and safety of the tiny life she held in her arms. “I love you so much, baby girl,” she whispered. With affection, she glanced over at Jun-pyo’s slumbering form. “We both do,” she amended, and relaxed into the bed, the rhythmic breathing of her husband and child lulling her gently back to sleep.

It seemed like she had been sleeping only a few moments when the shrill ring of her mobile phone pierced the quiet of early morning. Jun-pyo jerked awake in his chair, groaning and rubbing his sore neck. “Who could be calling this early?” he complained. “Why didn’t you turn your phone off last night?”

In seconds, Hee-jin’s outraged wail joined the cacophony of noise. Jun-pyo sprang up and leaned over the bed to lift the squalling babe out of Jan-di’s arms. His irritated face transformed at the sight of his daughter, softening into a smitten smile that warmed Jan-di’s heart. Seeing the tiny girl cuddled in Jun-pyo’s strong arms made her insides go all melty. Then he opened his mouth, and in a high-pitched voice started singing, “Gom se mari, ga han chib eh it ssuh…” Jan-di clapped a hand over her sudden bark of laughter. Jun-pyo was unfazed as he continued, “Mama Bear, Papa Bear, Baby Bear…” Amazingly, Hee-jin quieted, looking up at her father with darkly serious eyes.

Jan-di scrambled to answer the still ringing phone. “Hello?”

“Jan-di-ah!” It was Grandfather. He sounded out of breath. “I’m sorry to call so early, but I’m a little worried. Is Ji-hoo with you?”

Jan-di wrinkled her brow. “No, he’s not. In fact, we haven’t seen him since last night. He… didn’t come home?” He hadn’t, Grandfather told her. She thought back to the way he had rushed out after seeing the baby. Something was troubling him, she knew. “Maybe he crashed at a friend’s place. Woo-bin? Yi-jung?”

“I already checked. They haven’t seen him since last night, either.” Grandfather sounded truly worried. Even though Ji-hoo was a capable adult, it wasn’t like him to spontaneously stay out all night without calling. He was usually scrupulously considerate. “Can you contact me if he shows up there?”

“I will,” she assured him, and hung up. Jun-pyo, swinging a quiet Hee-jin in his arms, was looking at her with concern.

“Jun-pyo,” she said, worry making her voice tight, “Ji-hoo is missing. I can’t… the baby… Will you go out and look for him? You know all the places he hangs out.”

Without protest, Jun-pyo passed their daughter to Jan-di and reached for his coat. “Of course I will,” he said, and went swiftly to the door.

…

Several hours passed without news. Jan-di waited and worried. At first, she told herself that Ji-hoo had probably just forgotten to call Grandfather to say that he was staying somewhere else for the night. But where? she wondered with a strange pang. Back and forth she paced across the tiny space like a captive tiger, stopping every few minutes to check on Hee-jin.

As morning crept on toward afternoon, she found it more and more difficult to convince herself that this was a simple case of forgetfulness. She tried to remember if he had said anything before leaving the hospital last night. She didn’t think so. Although she had noted his abrupt departure, she had barely glanced at him in the minutes before that. She’d been exhausted and completely caught up in her newly expanded little family. The truth is, she thought dully, I haven’t paid much attention to Ji-hoo at all lately. Understandably, she’d been preoccupied with the pregnancy, but that was no excuse for neglecting a friend. When was the last time she had asked him anything about himself? Guilt washed over her as she realized how much she had focused on herself over the last few months. He knew everything about her life, but here she was, without a clue what was going on with him, or where he might have spent last night.

 She got a text from Jun-pyo at two o’clock. Haven’t found him yet. Any ideas where to look? Jan-di’s imagination, a force that had gotten harder and harder to hold in check as minutes ticked by, finally snapped its leash. An image of Ji-hoo, attacked and bleeding in a forgotten alley somewhere, flashed through her mind. She grabbed her phone and dialed Woo-bin.

“Yo,” he answered, as always.

“Woo-bin, have you heard from Ji-hoo yet?”

“He’s still M.I.A.?” Woo-bin asked, surprised. “I didn’t think he was actually missing. I just thought maybe he changed his mind and… uhh… well… I thought he was busy and forgot to call.”

She noted the quick deflection. “Busy? What do you mean? What are you not saying, Woo-bin?”

“It’s no big deal. When he and I were at a club the other night, one of the girls we met was really into Ji-hoo. She hung out with us all night, then gave him her number and suggested meeting up sometime. I know he doesn’t usually like the forward type, but this girl, she was…” He paused, as if searching for a neutral word.

“Hot?” finished Jan-di with an eyeroll.

He sniggered. “Yeah. Yeah, she was. I just thought maybe he decided to take her up on her invitation after all. He needs… something, Jan-di. He’s been in funk lately, in case you haven’t noticed.”

I guess I really haven’t, she thought ruefully to herself. “Woo-bin, I’m anxious. Even if he was… with a girl,” (why did that thought bother her?) “he would never let his grandfather worry about him like this. Can you… will you use your resources to try to find him?”

“I’m on it,” Woo-bin assured her, and he hung up.

…

Ji-hoo woke to pain, a heavy, dull throb that pressed down on his temples like a vise. He was lying down, his aching body stretched out on a firm, cool surface. A soft pillow was under his head and some sort of lightweight blanket covered him from the chin down. Groggy, he opened his eyes a crack. Panic seized him when he saw his unfamiliar surroundings. He shot upright, and his head exploded with pain, almost blinding him. Clutching his temples, he fell back limply. The world was spinning, so he closed his eyes and focused instead on his breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Long, deep breaths. Slowly the sharp spike of adrenaline subsided from his system.

After a few minutes, he gingerly opened his eyes again and looked around.

He was clearly in a doctor’s examination room. He recognized the shining instruments, the stacks of magazines, and the neat rows of jars containing cotton balls and tongue depressors. On the wall, a bright yellow clock in the shape of a sun told him it was nearing 4:30. Afternoon, he observed, noting the liquid gold sunlight leaking in from between the blinds on the room’s only window. Belatedly, he noticed the tube of an IV running out from under a bandage on the back of his hand.  Someone had brought him here, though he didn’t remember it. He thought back. He’d been riding his motorcycle. Something must have happened—an accident? He vaguely wondered how badly he was hurt. It couldn’t be too serious if he had been left here alone. Wherever this was.

Just then, the door to the small room swung open, admitting a short, slim girl with shining black hair bound neatly into a chignon on the back of her neck. A few tendrils had escaped, sticking to the light perspiration at her temples. She appeared to be younger than him by several years, but the confidence in her bearing gave the impression that she knew what she was doing.  She was carrying a tray covered with a clean, white cloth. She moved efficiently, setting the tray down on a high countertop next to the exam table. Her eyes seemed far away, and it took her a moment to notice that Ji-hoo was looking at her. She startled. “Oh! I didn’t know you were awake! I’m sorry.” She bowed slightly. “My name is Kwon Min-ah. My father and I have been treating you.”

Ji-hoo sat up, suddenly uncomfortably aware that he was wearing only a cotton gown beneath the thin quilt covering him. His ankle and lower leg were immobilized in a plaster cast that felt like a block of concrete weighing him down. Looking around, he saw his jeans, shirt, and riding jacket neatly folded and stacked on a small stool in the corner. “Where am I?” he asked the girl.

“I think I should get my father,” she said. “He can explain what happened to you more fully. I’m technically a physician’s assistant, but he’s been heading your case.” She spun on her heel and started out the door.

“Wait!” Ji-hoo said. Min-ah stopped and turned to face him, tilting her head quizzically. Ji-hoo didn’t meet her eyes. “Are you the one who… Did you… undress me?” He didn’t know why, but the thought unnerved him.

Her surprised laugh tinkled through the air like chimes. “No, I didn’t. Does that make you feel better? The medics did that when they brought you here. They had to check for hidden contusions and other injuries.” With that, she disappeared out the door, leaving Ji-hoo holding onto his unanswered questions.

He didn’t have to wait long before the door opened again, admitting a middle-aged man in a white coat. He had salt-and-pepper hair, a face starting to crease with laugh lines, and a pair of old-fashioned bifocals balanced precariously on the end of his rather long nose. As he approached, he smiled with a naturalness that spoke of long habit. This was a cheerful face, and Ji-hoo warmed to it instantly.

“I’m Dr. Kwon,” he introduced himself, then glanced at the clipboard in his hand. “Well, young man, you took quite a tumble. I don’t suppose I have to tell you that you were going a bit too fast for our little country lane, do I?”

Ji-hoo had the grace to look embarrassed. “No, ajusshi. I was… distracted.” He took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his ribs.

The doctor shrugged good-naturedly. “It wasn’t all your fault. That truck was stalled out across both lanes. There was going to be an accident one way or another.” He flipped over the top sheet on his clipboard. “Believe it or not, you were very lucky. Most of your injuries are shallow abrasions and bruises. You’re going to be very sore for a while. You had your bell rung hard, but there are no signs of subdural hematoma or swelling. The worst of it is your leg, though. You have a pretty bad break in your fibula and a hairline fracture in one of your ankle bones.”

“Talus or calcaneus?” Jihoo asked.  Dr. Kwon raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I’m also a doctor,” he explained, “albeit an inexperienced one. I’ve only been practicing for a few years.”

“Well, that brings me to the part of your chart we weren’t able to fill out while you were unconscious. What is your name?”

Ji-hoo smiled wryly. “Yoon Ji-hoo,” he said, quickly filling in the blanks of his personal information while Min-ah scribbled furiously. “Before we go any farther, would it be all right if I used your phone? My grandfather will be wondering where I am. He hasn’t heard from me since yesterday, and I’m sure he’s worried.”

…

Jan-di hung up the phone and slumped back on her pillows in relief. He was okay. Ji-hoo sunbae was all right. Tears spilled over as the emotional exhaustion of the day caught up with her. For a few hours, she had been forced to imagine a world without Yoon Ji-hoo in it, and the bleakness of it had dragged her down into a vortex of fear for him. Life without the reassuring warmth of his friendship? Impossible. She had once told Ga-eul that Jun-pyo was her love, but Ji-hoo was her soulmate. Today had brought home to her how very true that was. His presence in her life was like the music underlying everything else she did. Easy not to notice it, until it stopped. The thought caused a fresh burst of tears, and she didn’t notice that Jun-pyo had entered the room until she felt his weight pressing down on the bed next to her and his warm hand softly brushing away the moisture on her cheeks. Gently, he s his arms around her waist and drew her into the curve of his body, just holding her. She relaxed into his embrace and let the tears run their course, grateful for this man she had married, this passionate, emotional man who challenged her, enraged her, loved her, and somehow always managed to know exactly what she needed most from him.

…

After getting copies of his x-rays and his chart to take home with him, Ji-hoo stayed to eat dinner with Dr. Kwon and Min-ah-sshi. Their small home was adjacent to the doctor’s office, so he hobbled over on a pair of cast-off crutches and shared a delicious pot of ox bone soup. Having slept through two meals, he was ravenous, and, at Min-ah’s insistence, took rather more than his fair share.

Looking around, he saw that the three rooms they lived in were piled high with boxes and suitcases. “Are you moving?” he asked.

“You’re actually lucky we were here tonight. We’re in the process of transferring the practice to a new physician,” the doctor answered. “It’s hard leaving our patients and this community, to be honest, but Min-ah and I are ready for our next great adventure, I think.” Min-ah’s eyes shone as she nodded at her father.

“Where will you go?” Ji-hoo asked.

Dr. Kwon looked at him with sudden interest. “Dr. Yoon, have you ever heard of Doctors Without Borders?”

…

…