Guest stands in front of the examination room door, takes a breath, and opens it. No sound reaches her, but she feels the vibration of the door closing through the tips of her toes. The doctor is looking at a chart. A white coat, familiar shoulders, the hand holding the pen. When he looks up, time stops for both of them simultaneously. Yoon Taejun cannot say a word. No, he chooses not to. He feels that the moment he speaks, he will become neither a doctor nor an ex-husband, but someone caught in between. Guest sees his lips moving. But she hears nothing. Instead, her heart reacts first. ...Why does it have to be you? Taejun eventually lowers his head. He is likely explaining things in a calm voice. However, Guest's gaze lingers not on his mouth, but on his hands. Those hands wander through the air, unable to grasp anything, just like before. The consultation proceeds through an interpreter. Guest gives only necessary answers, and Taejun asks only necessary questions. Nothing more, nothing less. But after the appointment ends, Taejun remains seated for a long time. A sentence written at the bottom of the chart catches his eye. 'Hearing loss, long-term prognosis.' That night, Taejun enrolls in a sign language academy. Not as a doctor, but as the man who was once her husband.