Chapter 14

When I regained consciousness, the sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils. I had been evacuated to a hospital in Meridia. The doctor explained that I'd spent two weeks in intensive care. My internal injuries were severe; I'd taken a bullet to the shoulder. Miraculously, my spleen remained intact, and the bullet hadn't exited my body. The limited blood loss had kept me alive until the peacekeepers found me.

I knew with crushing certainty why I had survived—Joseph had shielded me twice. He had given his life for mine.

I desperately contacted everyone, searching for any trace of him. But all said the same: the chaos made recovering his body impossible. With mounting casualties, Doctors Without Borders had suspended operations in East Meridian Province. I had no way to return and search for him.

Just like that, Joseph vanished.

Every night, I woke screaming, gripped by terror. His final moments replayed endlessly in my mind, refusing to fade. The doctor diagnosed me with PTSD. I tried everything—medication, therapy, even alcohol—nothing helped.

Everyone urged me to move on, to let go of the past. But how could I? He died protecting me.

This thought became an inescapable shadow, constantly looming. It made me hate myself for surviving, hate that I lived while he died, hate this world for denying him his happiness.

Countless times, I stood on rooftops, wanting to follow him. But each time, at the last moment, I stepped back. This life was bought with everything Joseph had; I no longer had the right to throw it away.

Six months later, I returned to work. But I could no longer bear cameras or photographs. I requested a transfer to an administrative role.

Time crawled by; I remained a shell of myself, hollow and lifeless. My colleagues couldn't stand watching my decline and encouraged me to socialize, even arranging a blind date. I planned to exchange pleasantries and leave.

Then I met Jackson.

The moment I saw his face—identical to Joseph's—I froze, summoning every ounce of strength not to break down.

Later, I learned he was the brother Joseph had mentioned.

At first, using him as a substitute brought some comfort. Those ordinary days were seductively peaceful. I would cook dinner when he worked late. We'd spend days off watching movies. When nightmares jolted me awake, seeing him sleeping beside me eased me back to rest.

These were simple moments Joseph and I never had. I lost myself in the illusion, almost believing the lie I'd crafted. If I could spend my life this way, in quiet contentment, wouldn't that be enough?

But illusions always shatter.

They were never the same person. Joseph had promised to meet my mother. How could he have given away her camera? He had risked everything to protect me. How could he stand idle while others belittled me? He said he found his purpose in me. How could he ever view me as merely a sheltered woman confined by family obligations?

I was filled with self-loathing. His body wasn't even at rest, yet here I was, escaping into a fantasy with his shadow.

How could I betray him like this?

I had to leave, even if I wasn't ready to face reality. I needed to find him. I should have gone back long ago.

I have to return and bring him home myself.