When Love Becomes a Thing of the Past (Zoey) novel Chapter 14

Chapter 14 

When I regained consciousness, the sterile scent of antiseptic filled my nostrils. I had been evacuated to a hospital back in Meridia. The doctor explained that I’d spent two weeks in intensive care. My internal injuries were severe, and I had taken a bullet to the shoulder. But by some miracle, 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 reached out desperately to everyone I could, searching for any trace of him. But they all said the same thing: the chaos made recovering his body impossible. With casualties mounting, 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 played 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 forward, to let go of the past. But how could I? He died 

protecting me. 

This thought became an inescapable shadow, constantly looming over me. 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 at the edge of 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 after my leave. But I could no longer bear to handle 

cameras or photographs. I requested a transfer to an administrative role. 

Time crawled by, yet I remained a shell of myself, hollow and lifeless. My colleagues 

When Love Becomes a Thing of the Past 

0.7% 

gouldn’t stand watching my decline and encouraged me to socialize, even arranging a blind date. I planned to exchange mere 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 together. When nightmares jolted me awake, seeing him sleeping beside me would ease me back to 

rest. 

These were the 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?