14

He closed his eyes as though absorbing every part of her. Elsa's memories were now firmly lodged in his mind, sealed away. Unless he wanted otherwise, those memories would remain his alone—Elsa wouldn’t remember a thing. Her memories would fade away with him. He had returned all her relationships back to her, but kept the one piece that mattered most: the love they shared. Elsa could have reclaimed her world by leaving Joseph. She could have stayed by his side only if she had forsaken everyone else. But he hadn’t told her that. Joseph didn’t know the answer to this dilemma, but he never wanted her to sever her ties to her family, to live an abnormal life with him. It would be an insult to his love.

He crafted the perfect plan—a plan to erase every trace of himself from Elsa’s mind. And he made this decision without telling her. Now, he was walking away from her life, forever.

Even as an alien, he understood the secrets of love. He cast one final glance at Elsa, lying there with her eyes half-open. She seemed too drained to speak, or perhaps the words failed her. If she could have, she wouldn’t have stayed silent. He stood at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a deep ravine, not belonging to Elsa’s world or his own. It was an illusion—a place where no one returned from. Falling off a regular cliff wouldn’t have killed him, but this was no ordinary hill.

Elsa fought to keep her eyes open, desperate to understand what Joseph was about to do. She tried to scream, to beg him not to, but all she managed was a slight twitch of her right-hand finger. Her body felt paralyzed. Joseph gave her one last look, full of finality, and jumped into the abyss. As he disappeared into the chasm, Elsa’s eyes fluttered shut, and her mind, already sinking into despair, prayed that she’d never open them again. She had said farewell to the world she knew months ago. After witnessing this scene, her heart had no desire to see anything else.

"Please, Joseph... don’t leave me. I’ll die without you... You can’t just leave me here, alone..." Elsa’s voice echoed through her sleep, her desperate pleas getting louder until they woke Sana, who was sleeping nearby. She sighed deeply, hearing Elsa’s voice in the darkness. It was happening again—Elsa was begging in her sleep, something she would never do when awake. Ever since Sana had known her, Elsa had never sounded this helpless, and the tone of her voice cut straight through Sana’s heart. She quickly turned on the light.

"Elsa?" she called softly. Elsa jolted awake, wiping sweat from her forehead. Sana’s worried eyes were fixed on her.

"Was I screaming again?" Elsa asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes." Sana’s voice was calm, but her eyes held questions Elsa knew were coming.

"Who is Joseph?" Sana asked.

"I don’t know. I’ve never met anyone named Joseph. How do I make you believe that?" Elsa said with frustration, but Sana nodded, trusting her.

"I believe you, but why do you keep dreaming about him? It’s not just once or twice. For three months now, you’ve dreamt of him every night." Elsa massaged her temples, her head pounding.

"I don’t know, Sana. Who would believe me about this... strange dream?" Elsa muttered.

Silence filled the room. It was true—who would believe her? Anyone hearing about Joseph would assume she knew him in real life but was hiding the truth.

For six months now, Elsa had been plagued by these nightmares. At first, she would just scream in her sleep or wake up in a panic. But for the past three months, Joseph's name had started slipping from her lips. Almost every night, she muttered the same desperate words: "Don’t leave me," or "I’ll die if you go."

That’s why she had been moved into a separate room at the hostel. There was no way to explain this to the other girls. Only Sana had stuck by her, becoming Elsa’s closest friend. Sana refused to leave Elsa alone in this strange ordeal, even when Elsa had begged her to. Elsa feared disturbing Sana’s sleep, but Sana had insisted on staying with her. She knew Elsa needed her the most right now, and she had been right.

"If this continues, I’m going to lose my mind," Elsa said, throwing her head back onto the pillow. Sana turned off the light and climbed back into bed. This was nearly a nightly routine.

"You know, the only way to end this is to find Joseph," Sana suggested gently.

"But how? He only appears in my dreams. I don’t even know what he looks like in real life." Elsa sighed, feeling the weight of hopelessness.

Sana had no clear plan either, knowing it was nearly impossible to track down someone who existed only in dreams.

After a long silence, Elsa’s soft voice broke through the dark. "You know, Sana... I saw his eyes today."

"What?" Sana sat up, excitement rising in her.

"Would you really recognize him if you saw his eyes?" she asked.

"Yes. His eyes are unlike any I’ve ever seen before." Elsa’s tone was certain.

"Then we can do something." Sana turned on the light again, her eyes gleaming with determination. "We’ll search online again. Maybe we can identify him by his eyes this time. We’ll find your Joseph." She grabbed her laptop and hurried over to Elsa’s bed.

"But we don’t even know his full name. And we’ve tried this before, so many times," Elsa said, feeling the weight of disappointment settling in.

"It doesn’t matter. We’ll try again. Tonight, we’ll look at every Joseph we can find," Sana insisted, quickly opening social media sites. Facebook, Twitter, TikTok—they searched them all, but no eyes matched Elsa’s vision.

"I think we’re wasting our time. I would’ve remembered if Joseph had anything to do with me in reality. This has to be some sort of mental illness. I should talk to Dad," Elsa said, her voice heavy with frustration.

"That might be for the best. We don’t have any other options," Sana agreed, though disappointment lingered in her voice.

For months, they had tried to unravel the mystery of Joseph, but they hadn’t made any progress. Not even one percent closer to the truth.

As Elsa closed her eyes, those strange, unforgettable eyes flickered across her mind once more. She opened her eyes again, nervously.

"I wish I could see his whole face," she whispered sadly. "His eyes alone tell me he must be beautiful."