Evan didn't believe Maya was really dead.
If he accepted that, then everything he'd done—every regret, every word he'd swallowed, every night he'd stayed awake wondering what if—would become meaningless. And he wasn't ready for that kind of ending.
So he abandoned the company.
Board meetings were canceled. Emails went unanswered. Contracts piled up untouched. The empire he had once built with obsessive devotion became something he barely glanced at. Compared to the possibility of Maya still breathing somewhere in this world, nothing else mattered.
He traveled endlessly. Airports blurred together. Time zones lost their meaning. He searched hospitals, small towns, charity clinics, coastal villages—anywhere she might have gone to quietly disappear. He followed rumors like lifelines, even when they were absurd, even when they hurt.
Then one day, out of nowhere, someone tagged Mystic Waterfalls on Slogram.
"I think I just ran into Maya in a small town near Germany."
The photo attached was blurry, taken from behind. But the side profile—
That slope of the nose.
That familiar curve of the jaw.
That way her hair fell softly against her cheek.
Evan's hands began to shake.
He was already in Germany.
The hotel door slammed behind him as he sprinted down the street, the cold pavement biting into his bare feet. His breath tore from his chest, his heart pounding so violently it felt like it might burst through his ribs. He had never run this fast in his life—not for success, not for deadlines, not even for survival.
Only for her.
He wasn't the first to arrive.
A small crowd had already gathered—locals, tourists, netizens who had recognized the face from the photo and rushed over out of curiosity. Someone had even started filming.
They stood around a woman near a garden café.
Evan slowed to a walk, forcing himself to breathe, forcing his expression into a smile. His legs trembled—not from exhaustion, but from fear.
He looked at their faces and froze.
They weren't excited.
They weren't curious.
They were… pitying him.
Why?
His smile wavered.
'Did she tell them?'
'Did Maya tell them she never wanted to see me again?'
It didn't matter.
He stepped forward anyway.
If she hated him, he would accept it.
If she cursed him, he would kneel.
If she told him to leave, he would stay nearby—forever, if that's what it took.
He had faith.
He was willing to spend the rest of his life making amends.
The breeze in the small garden town brushed past him, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and fresh soil. The sky was impossibly blue. It felt cruel—how beautiful the world still was when his heart was breaking apart piece by piece.
He was more nervous than he had been on the day he first confessed his love to Maya.
Would she forgive me?
Surely she would.
They had loved each other for so many years—through poverty, through struggle, through nights when the future looked like nothing but darkness. Love like that didn't just vanish.
But Evan had forgotten something.
Distance isn't the only thing that separates people.
Death does, too.
As he drew closer, that familiar profile turned.
Hope surged—bright, blinding—
And then shattered.
The face that looked back at him was completely unfamiliar.
Not Maya.
Not even close.
For a moment, Evan didn't understand what he was seeing. His mind refused to accept it. His eyes searched desperately for something—anything—that resembled her.
There was nothing.
'Who was she?'
'Where was Maya?'
A roaring sound filled his ears, as if the world had suddenly submerged underwater. People were speaking, mouths moving, hands gesturing—but he couldn't hear a single word.
The woman spoke in clear German, confusion in her voice. "Is he the man you were talking about? The one looking for his love?"
Someone beside her answered softly, almost cruelly gentle. "Yes… he probably won't find her in this lifetime."
Something inside Evan snapped.
The strength left his legs.
The sky tilted.
The ground rushed up to meet him.
Amidst gasps and startled cries, he collapsed onto the cold stone pavement, his hands clutching empty air as if still trying to hold onto her.
After that day, Evan returned home.
He didn't search anymore.He didn't ask anymore.
It was as if he had finally accepted reality.
He threw himself back into work with frightening intensity—sleeping little, speaking less, moving through life like a machine wound too tightly to break. Projects multiplied. New games were launched. Profits soared.
From the outside, it looked like recovery.
But those who knew him could see it.
There was no light left in his eyes.
He worked not because he wanted to live—but because staying busy was the only way to keep himself from remembering that somewhere in the world, there was a sea holding Maya's ashes, and a life he would never get to live with her again.