Joanna rolled down the car window, gulping fresh air to combat the suffocating weight on her heart.

So, this was it.

She finally understood. To Henley, the one who had once saved him had now become the very embodiment of his trauma. People were contradictory and complicated.

Memories of their darkest days together flooded back—the blood-stained walls, the violence, the young man clinging to her as if she were his last lifeline.

His desperate whisper echoed in her mind. "Joanna, I have nothing left. You're all I have. If you ever leave me, take me with you. Don't let me suffer here alone."

No. Someone as selfish and greedy as Henley deserved to be left behind. Let him drown in his past, swallowed by guilt until he fell into the deepest pits of hell.

-

Back home, Joanna locked herself in her bedroom. She set up the new video recorder and filmed a short message. Then, she saved it to the memory card and scheduled its delivery.

"Please send this card back here exactly one year from today," she instructed the courier.

The courier accepted the card and asked curiously, "Is it a surprise for your husband? An anniversary gift?"

Only then did Joanna find the courier familiar.

"Have you forgotten? Your husband always sends you flowers for your anniversary. I'm usually the one delivering them," he reminded her. "And I remember each bouquet came with a long, heartfelt letter. He even handpicked the flowers himself. He really loves you."

The courier's genuine admiration stung like a cruel joke.

Joanna smiled, offering no response.

"Today's your anniversary, isn't it? I thought he might've sent you flowers again. But I guess this time, it's your turn to surprise him," the courier added.

Only then did Joanna realize—it was their wedding anniversary.

In past years, she would've received flowers and gifts.

This year, she received betrayal, wrapped in raw, unforgiving truth.

After the courier left cheerfully with the memory card, Joanna collapsed onto the sofa. The searing pain from her illness clawed at her body.

In desperation, she reached for her medication, but a jagged nail from the drawer scratched her arm.

Ignoring the bleeding wound, she shakily emptied the bottle into her palm, swallowing pill after pill until it was empty.

Finally, the pain subsided just enough to let her breathe.

Before she could have a moment to herself, knocks sounded at the door.

At first, she thought the courier had forgotten something.

Dragging her weak body, she moved slowly toward the door.

The knocking grew louder and more urgent, almost frantic.

Joanna's instincts told her something was wrong. She quickened her pace.

When she opened the door, a blinding flash of lightning lit up the room, followed by the deafening roar of thunder.

Henley fell into her arms, trembling like a bird with broken wings. His clothes were damp, but not from rain—his body was drenched in cold sweat.

He clung to her like a drowning man, his eyes wild and desperate.

"Joanna... Joanna..." he repeated.

Of course. Even now, Henley couldn't escape his past. Thunderstorms always pushed him into the depths of terror, robbing him of reason.

Lost in his fear, he would hurt himself, spiraling into madness. Only Joanna's presence could pull him back from the abyss.

Clinging to her as though she were his lifeline, he let out a guttural cry, his voice raw with desperation.

"Joanna, don't leave me. Never... Never leave me!"

The early morning sunlight bathed the streets, washing away the remnants of the torrential rain and thunderstorm from the night before. It was as if none of it had ever happened.

When Henley woke up, all he found in his arms was one of Joanna's scarves.

"Joanna? Joanna, where are you?" he called.

Panic-stricken, he stumbled out of the bedroom, shouting her name as he searched every corner of the house. But there was no sign of her.

A suffocating fear gripped him.

Although the storm had passed, a lingering dread consumed him. He called Joanna's phone repeatedly.

Once, twice, three times...

Henley called over a hundred times, but not a single call was answered.

He wanted to go out and look for her, but the fear left over from the night before paralyzed him. Stepping outside felt like an insurmountable task.

This had never happened before.

Joanna always stayed by his side during his episodes.

She would hold him gently, her soft fingertips brushing against his forehead as she whispered soothingly, "Don't be afraid, Henley. I'll always be here. I won't leave."

But this time, Joanna was gone. She wasn't answering her phone.

Desperate, Henley retreated into her closet and clutched her clothes, trying to calm himself with the faint scent she had left behind.

Joanna would come back. She had to come back. There was no way she could leave him.

Still, he kept calling her.

Tears blurred his vision, dripping onto his phone screen and causing it to switch erratically between apps. His trembling hands struggled to wipe the screen, but the phone slipped from his grip.

The phone hit the floor with a clatter, shattering into pieces. The screen went dark.

"No! Joanna... Joanna!" Henley's anguished cries echoed through the empty house.

The pain was unbearable.

In his despair, he picked up a sharp shard of glass from the shattered phone and pressed it against his wrist.

Just as the shard was about to pierce his skin, a familiar voice came from the doorway. "Henley?"

Joanna stood leaning against the doorframe, her expression calm and detached.

The moment Henley saw her, he let go of the shard and threw himself at her, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

Inhaling her familiar scent, he felt as though his feet had touched solid ground for the first time in hours.

He didn't question where she had gone or why she hadn't answered his calls.

He had only one thought—he couldn't lose Joanna. Never.

-

Over the next few days, Henley clung to Joanna like a shadow, refusing to leave her side.

Normally, he would have been able to return to his routine by now, but her sudden disappearance had shaken him to the core, leaving him even more fragile.

Even at night, he wouldn't let go of her hand as they slept.

The moment he loosened his grip, he would wake up in a panic, clutching her hand again before he could fall back asleep.

Joanna didn't protest, but she no longer comforted him as she once did. She didn't soothe him with her voice or her touch. Instead, she watched him quietly, her gaze tinged with a distant sense of irony.

Henley was too consumed by his own fragility to notice.

-

Three days later, Henley finally received a call from the hospital. They told him several surgeries had been scheduled during his absence, and they needed him to return immediately.

Before leaving, Henley reluctantly kissed Joanna on the forehead. "Joanna, wait for me to come home, okay? Tonight, I'll make you your favorite fish stew."

Good job for remembering what she mentioned seven days ago.

"Alright," Joanna replied. "I'll be here waiting for you tonight."

As soon as Henley left, Joanna emptied her closet of clothes and burned everything in the fireplace. She tossed anything in the house that bore her traces into the fire.

The flames roared, as though devouring every piece of beauty that had hidden a bitter truth.

Earlier that morning, Henley had snuck out to the balcony to make a phone call.

Before that, his phone had been flooded with over a hundred missed calls and messages from Addison.

Addison: [Henley, why aren't you answering my calls?]

Addison: [Are you tired of me? How could you treat me like this?]

Addison: [If you don't call me back, we're done!]

And so, Henley caved. The moment the call connected, his voice softened to a "Babe, I'll come see you today, okay?"

Joanna stood just a few steps away from the balcony, hearing every word with unsettling calm. Her heart felt nothing but numbness.

After clearing out the house, Joanna took one last look around.

She could still vividly remember the day they first walked through the front door.

At the time, they had just graduated, with little money to their name. The real estate agent had shown them the house—its floor-to-ceiling windows and spacious balcony had instantly captivated her.

Despite that, it had been far beyond their budget.

Joanna had been about to drag Henley away, but he had held her hand firmly, saying, "We'll take it."

Joanna had been stunned, ready to protest, when Henley said, "My wife likes it. As long as she's happy, nothing else matters."

He had noticed the joy in her eyes the moment she stepped into the house.

She had understood Henley deeply back then, and he had understood her just as well.

He had worked tirelessly to give her the life she wanted, selling his academic achievements and taking on grueling work schedules.

He had always said, "As long as you're happy, Joanna, I'd give you everything. Even my life."

When had that love changed? When had he become the man who didn't even notice her illness, who failed to see the pills she swallowed daily for her pancreatic cancer?

The reasons no longer mattered. Only the outcome did.

Joanna closed the door behind her and left.

The streets were covered in fallen leaves. The chill of late autumn filled the air, and the few pedestrians hurried along, eager to reach the warmth of home and family.

Joanna walked slowly toward the hospital.

After today, her life would end peacefully. She couldn't think of anyone left to miss.

At a crosswalk, the light turned red.

She stood still in the cold wind, counting down the seconds as if counting the final moments of her life.

When the light turned green, she stepped off the curb.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light and the deafening sound of an impact.

Joanna was struck and thrown several meters beyond the crosswalk. Her vision blurred with crimson, and her mangled legs lay at unnatural angles.

Chaos erupted around her—screams from bystanders, honking cars, the sound of blood pouring from her body.

She didn't know how much time passed before she was lifted into the emergency ward.

Doctors and nurses shouted urgently.

"Severe facial trauma—no way to identify her!"

"Her condition is critical! Call Dr. Zeal now!"

"He says he can't come—Addison had a terrible scare, and he's staying with her!"

"No time to wait. Get her into surgery now!"

Joanna could feel her life slipping away, faster and faster.

The sounds of medical equipment and frantic voices blended into a fading echo.

"She's crashing! Blood pressure's plummeting!"

"Her heart rate's unstable!"

"Where's Dr. Zeal?"

"It's too late!"

The piercing flatline of the heart monitor filled the room as Joanna exhaled one final breath.