Age : 33 (July 9th, 1992 — Cancer)

Address : 601, 6th Floor, The Heights, Hannam-dong, Seoul, South Korea

Base : Seoul, South Korea

Status : Divorced

Orientation : Heterosexual

Age 22 :
Graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in Neurobiology & Economics (University of California, Berkeley)

Age 23–26 :
Doctor of Medicine (MD)
(Johns Hopkins School of Medicine)

Age 27–30 :
Neurosurgery Residency (Severance Hospital, Yonsei University Health System, Seoul)

Age 31 :
Senior Resident, Neurosurgery

Age 32:
Chief Resident, Neurosurgery

Age 33:
Attending Neurosurgeon & Director of Surgical Operations
(Seoul National University Hospital)

For most of her early years, she wanted to create things you could taste. She dreamed about culinary school, long nights in professional kitchens, learning from demanding chefs and finding her rhythm with a knife and a flame. Cooking made sense to her. It felt warm, intuitive and alive.

Medicine didn’t.

That path only entered her life after her older sister stepped away from it. Their father, a well-known neurosurgeon, didn’t let the idea go. What began as a casual suggestion slowly hardened into expectation. Someone had to carry on the work and Louise found herself in the frame.

At the time, she had just finished a culinary diploma. She was running a small bistro, juggling an internship at a hospital in Seochon and barely keeping her head above water financially. The idea of medical school felt distant and impersonal, nothing like the world she loved. She assumed it would be temporary. Something she’d try and eventually leave behind.

That didn’t happen.

Somewhere between her first anatomy lab and her first time assisting in surgery, something clicked. Her hands didn’t shake. She noticed details others missed. Instead of panicking under pressure, she became calmer. Surgery didn’t frighten her, it demanded her full attention and she thrived on that.

So she made the switch. The chef’s knife became a scalpel.

Studying anatomy began to feel familiar, almost comforting. Procedures replaced recipes. Every movement mattered. The discipline she’d learned in kitchens carried over more than she expected. Through residency, fellowship and moments when doubt crept in, Louise kept going, not to live up to anyone else but to prove to herself that she belonged.

Now 33, Louise is a leading neurosurgeon.

She runs an operating room with quiet confidence, focused and exacting, the same way she once ran a kitchen. She still cooks when she can, especially for the people closest to her.

… but her most important work now isn’t plated, it’s measured in lives saved, recoveries made possible and the steady return of a heartbeat on a monitor.

… But behind the scrubs and sterile lights, it’s a different story.

Louise is finding moments for the things she used to push aside. Weekend mornings with her sister Olivia who still makes too much breakfast and reminds her she’s more than her job. Sunday calls with her father who checks in on her work with pride and a little guilt for the way she ended up carrying the ambition he once pressed down. The rare weeknight dinners where she doesn’t have to lead, impress or calculate. Going to a kids cafe with her daughter, always a stone’s throw away from the hospital she works at.

She’s still the sharp-edged neurosurgeon Monday through Friday, scalpels in hand, life-and-death decisions, allergic to fluff but lately she’s learning to show up for herself in quieter ways. Success isn’t just flawless procedures and accolades. It’s calm. It’s care. It’s the people who remind you where you started. And maybe, in those rare moments she lets her armor slip, it’s with her family, her few friends who understand, and with Soyul, even if it’s only for a weekend at a time.

She’s learning not to carry the world alone, not even in the OR, and not even when it comes to loving her daughter from afar.

Soyul is two. Two years of stolen mornings, missed birthdays, and milestones she’ll never get back. The court called her life ‘unstable’. Too many late nights in the hospital, too many emergencies she couldn’t walk away from. Custody went to her ex-husband. Weekend visits only. And if she was late? Supervised. “ Don’t confuse her … ‘ he said. “ If you can’t be here, stay away. ”

Louise tries anyway. She tries to fill the gaps with phone calls, video chats, tiny notes slipped into backpacks. She imagines syrup on pancakes as magic potion, kisses her little forehead in the dark, folds her tiny shirts perfectly. Every visit is a countdown, every goodbye a knife in her chest.

She misses her. She misses her like oxygen. Every time she has to leave for work, she feels her heart cracking in slow motion. Emergencies, surgeries, patients … it all comes first, and yet she can’t help thinking that maybe this is the one thing she failed at.

And still, she loves her daughter more than anything. More than herself. More than life, maybe. Even if the world decided she isn’t allowed to show it.

Sometimes, late at night, she pictures Soyul sleeping in her own bed, completely unaware of what she’s missing. She imagines tucking her in, whispering I love you, always, running her fingers through her hair and then reality hits

.. and all she can do is stare at the clock, counting the days until she sees her again, knowing that even when she does, she’ll have to leave.

“ Given your schedule and Soyul’s age, the court finds it in her best interest to live primarily with your ex-husband. ”

Her ex-husband sat a few benches away, silent and his face, neutral. He didn’t need to say anything, the outcome was already written on both their lives.

Louise’s chest tightened. She tried to swallow, tried to focus, but the room felt like it was closing in. She nodded automatically when instructed to, stood mechanically and walked out without looking at him.

On the stairwell outside, she slid down to sit on the cold steps, hands pressed to her face. Her shoulders shook, barely audible sobs escaping. The world felt hollow.

She could picture Soyul in her ex-husband’s arms, the routines she would miss, the small moments she wouldn’t see. The guilt and grief rolled together, knotting her stomach. She didn’t cry out loud … just let it leak out in small, ragged breaths.

Somewhere above, people passed by, oblivious. Louise stayed there, letting the quiet grief consume her fully, knowing she’d have to get up eventually, but not yet …. because for the first time in her life, she wasn’t in control.

Louise dropped her bag by the door. “ I know. ” Her shoulders sagging the second the word left her mouth.

“ She stood right there … “ He added, nodding at the door. “ Wouldn’t move. Said you were coming. ” There was something tight in his jaw, like he was grinding his teeth down.

“ My surgery ran late. ” Louise slipped off her shoes, slow and careful, like the wrong movement might shatter something.

“ It always does. ” He laughed once, sharp. Not amused.

She stepped farther into the penthouse. Toys are everywhere. A stuffed rabbit on its side. A tiny cup on the table, milk dried along the rim but she looked away.

“ She asked if you got lost. “ He continued. “ I told her you were helping someone sick. ” He watched her closely when he said it.

“ That’s not a lie. ” Louise’s voice was already defensive.

“ It’s not the truth either. “ He exhaled, running a hand through his hair.

“ She’s two … ” Louise snapped. “ She doesn’t need to know about hospital politics. ”

“ She needs her mother. ” The words sat there, heavy.

“ I am her mother. ” Louise turned on him, exhausted eyes flashing.

“ Then why am I the one who puts her to bed every night? ” He fired back, finally raising his voice. “ Why am I the one on the floor because she won’t sleep unless someone’s there? ”

“ Because I work. ” Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

“ You disappear … “ He continued. “ There’s a difference. ”

“ I’m a neurosurgeon in Seoul. “ Louise said, bitterly. “ I didn’t get here by clocking out at five everyday. ”

“ … and Soyul didn’t ask for extraordinary. ” He snapped, again. It was two in the morning. “ She asked for you. ”

Louise took a step back and bumped into a chair but she didn’t fill the vacant seat. “ Don’t talk like I don’t love her. ”

“ Then why does she run to the door every time the elevator dings? ” His voice cracked just enough to piss her off.

“ That’s not fair — ”

“ She called me ‘엄마‘ tonight. ” He said it quietly. That was what does it.

Louise was forced to release out a hollow laugh. “ She’s a baby, she mixes words up. “

“ She didn’t correct herself. ” He looked down at the floor. “ She just stared at me. Like she didn’t know anymore. ”

Louise gripped the back of the chair. Her knuckles turned white. “ Why would you tell me that? ”

“ Because you don’t fucking listen unless it hurts. ”

“ I can do both! ” She yelled. “ Why is that so fucking impossible for you to understand? ”

“ Because you’re not doing both! ” He yelled back, matching the intensity of her voice and her emotions. “ You’re doing one thing perfectly and neglecting the other. ”

“ That’s a fucking lie! ”

“ When was the last time you bathed her? ” He didn’t wait, he didn’t give her a chance. “ When was the last time you put her to sleep? ”

Louise opens her mouth. Nothing comes out.

“ Love isn’t what you promise. ” He had a look, one that said, this is it. “ It’s what you show up for. ”

“ So what? ” She screamed, tears spilling freely now. “ You want me to quit? Shrink myself down so you don’t feel alone!? ”

“ I just want my wife back. ” He shouted. “ I want Soyul to have a mother who’s more than a fucking voice note. ”

“ Watch your mouth. ” Her voice was shaking, furious.

“ No! I’m done lying. Maybe you’re just better at loving people when they’re unconscious and can’t ask anything of you. ”

Louise froze. “ Say that again.” Her chest was heaving.

But he didn’t. He just looked at her, devastatingly.

“ Stop! ” She screamed. “ Stop fucking talking. ”

“ You’re brilliant … ” He continued with a wrecked voice. “ Just not here. Not with us. ”

Something in her broke clean. “ You think I’m a bad mother? ” She yelled. “ Say it. Say it.”

He hesitated.

“ Fucking say it! “ Her scream echoed off the walls.

“ I think Soyul deserves someone who actually comes home. “ He looked devastated when he said it.

Silence.

Louise wiped her face hard. Her voice dropping, cold and final. “ Then leave. ”

He nodded slowly. “ Maybe I should. “

“ Good because I won’t apologize for being who I am. ”

Outside, the city kept moving.

Inside, their marriage was already over.