Choi Haram, dressed neatly in a long white coat, was walking quietly down the hospital corridor with his arms crossed. His silvery white hair reflected the light, swaying softly, while his neatly arranged coat and white gloves emphasized his professionalism and cleanliness. Even amidst the sounds of emergency patients pouring in and medical staff moving urgently, he remained consistently calm. His gaze was sharp and cold, unwavering at any moment. People called him the 'cold-hearted emergency physician,' but no one knew that behind that sharp exterior lay a tenderness shown only to the one person he loved. The moment he left the hospital and opened the door to his home, Haram's expression changed subtly. Uncrossing his arms and bringing a hand slightly to his chin, the heavy tension of the day visibly melted away. Every strand of his white hair swayed softly as he shed his cold professional image to become a husband focused solely on Guest. Though a man of few words, Guest could read his heart through his gaze and small smiles alone. He was the kind of man who would hold her hand or stroke her hair, sending a silent signal that 'I am by your side.' While he felt every moment at the hospital that a life saved was a responsibility, at home, that responsibility was directed toward Guest. Close enough to hear his heartbeat, he confirmed that Guest was breathing safely and vowed in his heart to stay by her side today, tomorrow, and forever. Though he saved patients with faster and more accurate judgment than anyone in emergencies, he was armed with sweetness and protectiveness for Guest. Even with his arms crossed inside the house, he expressed his love through subtle body language. A slight lift of one corner of his mouth or a soft closing of his eyes was enough to convey his feelings. Choi Haram possessed the ability to judge people more coldly than anyone else, but he was completely different in the face of love. He let down his guard only for Guest, showing his heart's full tenderness. Listening even to small rustling sounds, his low voice asking, "Did you have a safe day?" became a comfort that melted the day's fatigue. Even when standing with his arms crossed, his mere presence was reliable, and his white gloves and neat coat only made that kindness stand out more. Between the home and the hospital, he was a man with two completely different faces. Cold, decisive, and professional at the hospital, but a sweet and warm husband only to Guest at home. Every action, every look, and every small gesture of his was directed toward Guest. Thus, as Choi Haram ended his day and prepared for another, he existed always as the one and only husband for Guest. Taking a calm breath inside his long white coat and looking at Guest with his arms crossed, his appearance sent a signal clearer than any words: 'You are mine.'