Morning in a Seoul apartment. The sun had just begun to slip through the gaps in the curtains. Urip stepped out of the room, already in his clinical rotation uniform, hair neatly combed, a satchel slung over his shoulder.
Siska looked surprised. "Gaby? You're going to the hospital? But just two days ago you—"
Urip nodded calmly, picking up his locker key from the table. "I'm feeling better, Ma. I don't feel right leaving my team for too long."
Siska paused what she was doing and approached him, worry on her face. "But the doctor said you need a lot of rest. This wasn't just a regular dizzy spell, Gaby. You almost... almost—"
Urip looked into her eyes, his voice calm but heavy. "If I stay home and do nothing, it's not just my body that gets sick... my mind does too, Ma."
Siska fell silent. There was a foreign tone in her son's voice, a maturity she'd never seen before. She slowly let out a breath, then touched his arm gently.
"Promise me, if you start feeling unwell again, you'll come home right away."
Urip gave a small smile—almost like the smile Urip used to wear. "I promise, Ma."
Siska watched as her son walked toward the door. Something was different. And she could feel it, deep in her heart.
Before stepping out, Urip turned around. His gaze was soft, piercing through Siska's. He approached, then gently bowed and kissed the crown of her head—deep, tender, and silent. After that, he extended his hand and took hers in salim, the traditional Javanese gesture of asking a mother's blessing before leaving.
Siska froze. Usually, Gaby would just give a quick hug or kiss her cheek when he was feeling sentimental. But this... this was different. There was something unspoken. A farewell that felt like both an ending and a beginning.
Urip held his breath for a second. A moment ago... he had wanted to kiss her lips. His love for Siska as Urip had almost guided him there. But Gaby's body resisted fiercely. His lips stopped at her hair. Because now, Siska wasn't his lover. She was his mother.
Siska touched the top of her head where he had kissed her. "Gab... what's going on with you?" she asked softly, barely audible.
Urip simply smiled. "I'm just... grateful I still have a mother."
Then he opened the door and left.
Siska stood frozen in the kitchen. Her eyes burned. Her hands clutched her apron tightly. She didn't know why her heart felt so warm... and yet so painful.
—
Inside the car, the Seoul morning traffic was sluggish. The red light stayed on long. Horns honked in polite protest, the usual rush hour rhythm.
Urip leaned back in the seat, staring out the window. Seoul slowly stirred from its lingering sleepiness.
Suddenly, his phone alarm went off. A soft vibration accompanied a notification on the screen:
"Music box order – gift for Mama-Papa's anniversary, 'Cheongdam Melody' store."
Urip frowned. "Anniversary? Siska's birthday isn't in May…"
Just as the thought crossed his mind, his memory clicked: "Mom and Dad's wedding anniversary – May 18, 2001. This year… the 23rd."
Urip smacked his forehead. "Ouch, Gaby…! It's May 15th already—how can you get a custom music box done in three days?! And at this hour? No shop's open," he muttered, glancing at the dashboard clock: 06:53.
He turned to the window. The traffic began to inch forward. But his mind was already racing—racing back 23 years, picturing the wedding he never attended, never approved of, but that happened anyway.
A sudden sting of jealousy pierced through. Gaby remembered the date. He planned a gift.
While Urip—inside Gaby's body—could only celebrate the wedding anniversary of the woman he once loved.
"Lim Woo," he whispered like a prayer. "I'm jealous. But I also have to thank you. You loved Siska…"
He looked at his reflection in the side mirror. But all he could see was Gaby's face. "…and you created Gaby, whose body I now inhabit."
His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Without you... maybe Siska would've been gone long ago. Or maybe she would've never smiled again. Maybe... she would've never written those emails for 26 years."
He took a deep breath. "But still... it hurts, Woo. You got what I should've fought for. And me... I disappeared."
Urip gave a bitter smile. "Thank you, Gaby… you're more thoughtful than I ever was."
—
Suddenly, Rachel's image jolted into Urip's mind.
Flashback – Hallway, St. Mary's Catholic High School, Seoul, 2019
Lim Gabriel, the new 11th grader who had just transferred from Singapore, walked briskly while staring at his class schedule. He was looking for the English classroom, but the path he took led him somewhere else.
He opened a door and found himself standing at the entrance of a small chapel. Inside, a beautiful girl with long hair was kneeling in prayer.
Gaby inhaled and tried to suppress his awkwardness.
"Sorry," he said with a thick Singlish accent. "I'm looking for the English room, but got lost."
The girl turned and smiled warmly. "You're Lim Gabriel, right? I'm Rachel!" she said, extending her hand.
Gaby was startled. "Oh... maybe you read my name on the uniform."
Rachel chuckled. "Your Korean is worse than what my dad said."
Gaby squinted in confusion. "Huh?"
Rachel patted his shoulder lightly. "My dad, Shin Michael—he's your dad's friend, Lim Woo. He said your Korean was decent. But I'm not so sure."
Gaby blushed, a little embarrassed but grateful for the warm welcome.
Urip smiled bitterly, recalling the meeting between Gaby and Rachel—formed long before he ever knew.
—
In the small chapel at school, Rachel sat beside Gaby.
"You don't seem like the religious type," she said, curious. "But you know the Bible so well. Your parents must've taught you."
Gaby lowered his gaze, then slowly lifted it.
"My dad's not Catholic, and my mom's not really a church person either. But I learned from the remnants of Mama's old books."
Rachel tilted her head. "Remnants of your mom's books?"
Gaby smiled faintly. "She doesn't go to church anymore. But I always feel peace in the cathedral. Like something touches my soul."
Rachel nodded.
Gaby looked out the window, soft light illuminating his face.
"I hope I can find something real to believe in… like you."
Rachel gently held his hand. "We'll search for it together."
—
For two years, Gaby and Rachel were nearly inseparable.
They sat side by side in the library, shared lunch in the back garden, sometimes rode the subway home together. They rarely talked about God anymore—mostly about biology, chemistry, and sometimes… the contents of their hearts.
One afternoon, just before graduation, they returned to the little chapel where they first met. It was raining, and the outside world looked gray. Rachel sat at the front pew, anxious.
"Gaby…" she said softly. "I like you."
Gaby turned. Not surprised. Not smiling either. He simply stared at the small candles on the altar.
"I want to get into med school," he finally said. "I'll be busy for four years. Then clinical rotations. Maybe residency in Singapore."
He looked at Rachel. "Would you still want to be with me?"
Rachel bit her lower lip. She didn't answer.
Gaby's voice grew quieter. "I might not even have four years. What if I suddenly die? Are you ready for that?"
Rachel bowed her head, holding her breath.
"Don't say that…" she whispered, almost inaudibly.
Gaby gave a crooked smile. "Sometimes my body feels... like it's not mine. Something's wrong. Always has been. But no one knows what."
Rachel lifted her tear-filled eyes. "I still want to be with you. Even just for one day."