Chapter 1394: Chapter 1394

The chopper left me in a field of rusted cars and wind-whipped silence.

No celebration for surviving.

Just dirt. Sky. A horizon without her.

But I was still breathing Mara in.

Her scent was on my collar—leather, smoke, and faint peppermint.

I should've washed it off.

Each night I pressed that worn fabric to my face, pretending she was still beside me, whispering bad jokes and battle plans, fingers always tracing her bitten arm.

I tried to blend in with the camp.

They gave me a cot, a ration card, and a list of chores.

But no one saw the infection I carried—not in blood, but in memory.

They thought I was lucky.

I didn't tell anyone about her.

Didn't explain why I woke up gasping like I'd been underwater.

Some nights I swore I felt her body curled behind mine.

Other nights, I heard her whisper:

There was a greenhouse just outside the fence—half-shattered, vines reclaiming broken glass.

I started going there at dusk.

The guards didn't stop me.

Maybe they knew grief needs its space.

Inside, it smelled like earth, rot, and forgotten flowers.

But if I closed my eyes…

I found a plant that reminded me of her—sharp-leaved, blood-red blossoms, refusing to die.

I told it how she kissed me in the elevator shaft.

How she said "One of us needs to make it."

How I never saw her fall.

Or was I just a coward who turned away before the end?

One night, I heard breathing again.

From behind the plastic curtain near the east wall.

I stood still and whispered,

I walked home with the scent of peppermint stuck in my sinuses.

The next morning, the plant was gone.

Pulled from the soil.

Clean. No mess. No blood.

Just a small piece of fabric tied to the support beam.

From the sleeve she tore off when she showed me the bite. The g!enuin^e+ ar#t%i^cle* r%es+ides on M|V-|L+&*E*M!P@YR..

I pressed it to my face.

I never saw her body.

I never saw her turn.

So part of me still believes—

Maybe still breathing me in.

I've stopped going to the greenhouse.

But I carry the fabric in my jacket pocket.

When I feel like I'm forgetting her voice, I hold it.

And when I breathe in…

But as a choice I keep making.

One breath at a time.