15

The next morning, Elsa found herself sitting in a cafe, facing a blurry figure. She hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, and it had been an exhausting day. All she wanted was to crawl into bed, but she hadn’t eaten anything since morning, so she forced herself to the cafe. Ella was busy at the counter, and Elsa sat with her elbows resting on the table, her hands wrapped around a cup as she stared blankly into it, lost in thought. That’s when John took the seat across from her. He was a classmate who frequently professed his love for her, which Elsa always found amusing. She didn’t laugh because she liked what he said, but because the way he spoke was so theatrical, like scenes from a movie. He’d even bring himself to the point of tears, but it only made Elsa laugh harder. His acting was impeccable.

If he had been mad and stayed away for ten days, Elsa would have been even more relieved. But eventually, he’d come back, pacing in front of her like nothing had happened. She often thought he might leave her alone, but he always returned. Normally, she would listen with one ear and let it go out the other, but today was different. She wasn’t in the mood to listen, nor to laugh. She secretly wished he would just leave, but he noticed the shift in her expression.

"Is something wrong, Elsa? You look upset," he asked, sounding concerned. Whether his worry was genuine or just another act, Elsa couldn’t tell.

"I'm not feeling well," she said, subtly hinting for him to leave.

Ella, carrying a burger and coke, saw John sitting with Elsa from across the cafe and raised her eyebrows knowingly. "Today, he's in for it," she thought, expecting Elsa to finally tell him off.

John, sensing something was off, reached across the table to feel her forehead for a temperature. Elsa recoiled, making him pull his hand back in embarrassment.

"How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?" Elsa snapped, knowing she’d embarrassed him, but she didn’t care. Just then, Ella arrived at the table.

"Hi, John, how are you?" she asked with a smile.

"I'm fine. How about you?" he replied, as upbeat as ever. Elsa, meanwhile, shot Ella a look, silently begging her to help get rid of him.

"Elsa’s not feeling well... Maybe you should meet up some other time?" Ella suggested diplomatically.

"Elsa’s not well? Then I should stay with her," John responded, slipping back into his usual melodrama.

Ella gave him a knowing wink, but it was too late—John had already launched into his performance.

"You have no idea what Elsa means to me. I can't bear to see her in pain. How could I leave her like this?"

"If you don’t leave in the next minute, I’ll smash your head with one of these bottles," Elsa said, standing up suddenly and grabbing a bottle from the table, as if she were ready to follow through on her threat.

"If I’ve done something wrong, I’m sorry, but I just want you to know how important you are to me..." John started again, his voice thick with emotion.

"I’m giving you one more minute!" Elsa shouted, louder this time.

"Okay, I’m going," John muttered, standing up and looking around awkwardly.

"And kindly, in the future, if the spirit of a lover ever possesses you again, don’t bother coming near me!" Elsa yelled after him, slamming the bottle back onto the table. A few students at nearby tables looked over. Exhausted, she sank back into her seat and buried her head in her hands. Her head throbbed, and in that moment, she forgot where she was. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

Then, out of nowhere, a voice echoed in her mind: "Never mock someone’s love, because when it takes hold of you, there’s no escaping it." She snapped her eyes open. It was her voice, but she had never said those words. She didn’t even know anything about love. How could they be hers? She sat there for hours, trying to shake the strangeness of it all. Ella called after her as she suddenly stood and walked out of the cafe, but Elsa didn’t stop. Everything was becoming more and more surreal.

"Dad, can I ask you something?" she said into the phone, having just finished class. Her father had called, as he often did when her schedule allowed it. She signaled that she was heading to her dorm, then moved to a quiet corner of the lawn, feeling the need to finally talk openly with her father. She had a theory about Joseph—maybe she’d met him when she was too young to remember, and if that was the case, her father might know something.

"Dad, who was Joseph?" she asked hesitantly. On the other end, there was a long silence.

"That’s the question I’ve been asking you for the past six months. Then I figured maybe you’d tell me yourself," her father finally replied, his voice careful.

"You remember that horrible accident six months ago, right? You were on your way to the airport, and your car crashed into a truck. You went on a trip for a month, but there was no contact with anyone. I had no idea about your accident until a month later. But I prayed for your safety every day. When the month passed and you still hadn’t come back... don’t even ask me what that time was like. I eventually learned you never made it to the airport. You were missing for 30 days. I can’t even imagine what you went through. I went to every hospital, every morgue. You don’t know the pain of walking into a morgue...”

Her father’s voice trailed off as he took a breath, and Elsa’s heart ached. This was the first time he was telling her about the accident.

"A month later, I got a call from a hospital in another city. You had been in a coma for two months, but you’d finally woken up. When I got there, you didn’t recognize me. Your memory was affected, and I spent the next week in the hospital, awake on the sofa in your room, watching over you. Every night, you called out for Joseph. I was shocked to hear that name coming from you. You used to tell me everything."

Elsa’s heart shattered. “Dad, I swear, I don’t know any Joseph,” she said through sobs, her voice breaking.

“I believe you. Don’t cry,” he soothed, concerned.

"Dad, I’m in so much pain. I want to cry, but I can’t. I’m so exhausted," she whispered, her throat tight with emotion. Her father, alarmed by her words, quickly cut the conversation short.

“I’m coming to pick you up. Be ready. I’ll be there in an hour,” he said before hanging up.

Her father, who had raised her single-handedly, couldn’t bear her pain, and hearing her distress left him no choice but to rush to her side.

When she arrived home, the first thing he did was suggest she see a psychiatrist. “I didn’t know you were bringing me home just to see a psychiatrist,” she grumbled, feeling betrayed. She’d always been skeptical of them. But her father wouldn’t listen, and now, sitting in Dr. Knox’s clinic, she regretted coming. To her, psychiatrists were just guessers, reading expressions and twisting stories to fit their diagnoses. If this one said she knew Joseph and was just hiding it from her father, she swore she’d throw the heaviest object on the desk at him.

She was brooding on the waiting bench when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen, irritation etched across her face, before entering the doctor’s office.

Dr. Knox greeted her with a warm smile, and for a moment, Elsa was caught off guard.