I never met Susan in person, but this note is her. I imagine her voice as somewhat crinkly, sinking a bit every time this letter or that falls into a crease in the paper, then rising to become audible again:
For a long time, I couldn’t understand why you declined to join me on this trip. After all, I’ve planned it exactly in accordance to your own stories, which you told me long ago, before you proposed, of your own trip down here, so I thought it would be wonderful for you, for both of us, to relive the adventures of those early days.
I can’t help but recall her last video. “You may suspect that I’m jealous of you,” she said. “And maybe part of me is, the part that has been in love with him, ever since we met.”
“Oh,” I say. “What a heartwarming note.”
Kabir crosses his arms over his chest, as if to say that he knows better. “I don’t read it this way.”
I wonder if he ever saw that video. Probably not, or he would have destroyed it. Her next sentence there, as I remember it, was, “Now, that love is dying.”
I go back to reading her note. She signs it off with,
I feared that without you I would be lonely here, but in fact, I’m beginning to feel as if I found my calling.
Months after recovering from coma, Ash discovers that the man who performed her brain surgery has a questionable medical experience and a dark past. Should she expose him, at the risk of becoming vulnerable to his revenge?
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