Chicago, August 2016
Hannah sat on a weathered park bench, her gaze following the steady flow of strangers drifting past her. The corners of her mouth curved into a gentle smile, not because she knew them, but because she had begun to enjoy watching life unfold around her, as if each passerby carried a fragment of a story she could only guess at.
Another warm August had arrived, the kind that wrapped the city in golden light, yet this summer felt different. Hannah was no longer the fragile girl of yesterday. She had been of age for over a year now, free to make her own decisions, even the difficult ones. Her visits to the psychiatrist continued, but they were her choice now. She went not out of obligation, but because she wanted to keep moving forward. Progress was visible—subtle, yet undeniable. From the beginning, she had fought with a stubborn determination, unwilling to let the illness claim her. Still, she knew it lingered somewhere in the shadows of her mind, like a ghost that would never completely vanish.
More than two years had passed since she had walked away from Horace Mann High School. Time had slipped away too quickly, blurring into memories until suddenly she was holding her diploma in her hands. It was not from one of the elite schools of the country, only a modest public institution in Chicago, yet for Hannah it had been a triumph. Against odds, she had been accepted into one of New York's better universities, carried forward by her perseverance and hunger to learn. It was her dream made tangible, and she swore she would not let it shatter this time.
A lot had changed in those two years.
Her treatment was working. Her condition improved, step by step. Therapy sessions had begun peeling back the heavy layers of repression, slowly unlocking the door to that one day she had buried so deep within herself—the day of Danielle's death. Her mind resisted, fighting to keep the pieces scattered. At night, the fragments slipped through in dreams: blurred images, fleeting voices, moments that refused to connect into a whole. Her subconscious guarded her fiercely, as though protecting her from truths too sharp to face.
One feeling, however, remained clear. Guilt. Hannah carried it like a secret scar, hidden deep inside. Somewhere in those forgotten fragments lay the reason she blamed herself for her twin's death.
And within those dreamlike visions, Jin always appeared. The boy who had seen through her from the very beginning. He had recognized her instantly on the first day of school, calling her Hannah with unshakable certainty. He had never confused her with Danielle. He had simply played along once he realized she had lost her memory of that pivotal day.
It had all been a lie.
Their bond was no longer the same. Once close, they now spoke only sporadically—an occasional message, a short call. Hannah felt uneasy in his presence, even from afar, because she knew he guarded a truth too dangerous to name. She feared that by staying close to him, she might finally unearth what her own mind had hidden. And so, when Jin left for college, she allowed distance to grow between them. He seemed to sense her withdrawal. He no longer pushed to see her, excusing it with claims of being too busy with his studies.
But Hannah knew better. He was lying.
How? Because of Joseph.
Joseph and Jin shared a dorm room at university.
Joseph—the so-called dark prince—was not where people expected him to be. Instead of Chicago, he too had ended up back in New York. The same summer he had come to visit Hannah, his father had summoned him back with fury. He had demanded Joseph enroll in the university of his choosing. At first, Joseph rebelled, but when Mr. Scott threatened to cut off his money, Joseph surrendered. Everyone knew Joseph was hopeless at physical labor; no one could imagine him waiting tables or stocking shelves. He had no illusions about that himself. That summer, he obeyed.
His father's influence had smoothed the way. A belated admission to New York University was arranged without issue—the very same institution Hannah herself would soon enter. It meant she and Jin would inevitably cross paths again. She dreaded it, though she told herself not to dwell on the past. Perhaps she could still preserve what remained of their friendship if she refused to dig too deeply.
As for Joseph, her relationship with him had taken its own peculiar shape. He was still difficult, still arrogant, still an expert at getting under people's skin. To most, he remained insufferable. And yet… for Hannah, it was different. He teased her relentlessly, provoked her, and unsettled her with his moods, but beneath it all she found herself strangely at ease around him.
And he, too, had changed.
College had altered his appearance. The brooding boy with black-rimmed eyes and an aura of menace was gone. His dark eyeliner had vanished, his once-raven hair had softened to brown, his wardrobe brightened with color. He looked less like a shadow, more like a young man stepping into the light.
Handsome. Undeniably so. And, as always, women noticed. Joseph's effortless charm and sharp tongue only amplified the magnetism that surrounded him. He had grown sharper, more confident—and his success with girls was almost absurd in its ease.
Hannah watched these transformations with a strange mixture of amusement and caution. Whatever lay ahead, she knew her story was once again about to entwine with his—and with Jin's. And in the quiet places of her mind, the fragments of memory stirred restlessly, waiting for the moment they would no longer remain hidden.