I’m so tired of it. We should save the money and make our lives—especially Jun-ha’s—as good as we can with the time we have left. I can’t keep failing him like this, pretending that we can fix everything. I can’t even keep my own department from imploding.

He still loves watching the fireworks.

JOURNAL ENTRY: JOSEPHINE LEE, AUGUST 7, 2087

Desperate times call for desperate measures. I can’t say more without self-incrimination and the risk of losing my job, but I wanted to note the occasion here in case it works. If we can keep Jun-ha from getting worse, any sacrifice will be worthwhile.

I’m glad we’re in Europe. This would be much harder to do from the USA. Or Singapore.

This is our last chance. Please, please, please let it work.

JOURNAL ENTRY: JOSEPHINE LEE, NOVEMBER 21, 2087

Snow fell this morning.

The flakes melted away.

Gone.

Like my boy, Jun-ha.

JOURNAL ENTRY: JOSEPHINE LEE, FEBRUARY 2, 2088

It’s strange, when I look back on my life, how some things happened exactly as I imagined, while others I couldn’t begin to conceive of.

We lost Don in the fog of Jun’s death. Soo-ha and I are in Brussels, together, but Don left for his parents’ house. He said it was to spend their last years together, and he’s probably right about that. They’re in Reno now that they’ve retired. He wanted to take Soo-ha, but that girl is clamped tight to me the way Jun was to Don. I’m glad—it would’ve been horrible to lose them all.

Everyone warned me that marriages don’t always survive the death of a child. Such remote, clinical words. Kanata-san was better. He reminded me of a noble truth: life is suffering, and grief a natural part of that cycle. He said that Don must find his own path through his pain, that the greatest gift we can give one another is to accept our differences and wait for the other to emerge. But we may not be the same people on the other side, and that too is part of life.

So.

Part of me hates Don for running away, but I try to hold on to Kanata-san’s words. If only for poor Soo-ha, who is so angry and confused and lost right now. She’s almost eleven, on the cusp of puberty. For her sake, I will be strong.

JOURNAL ENTRY: JOSEPHINE LEE, AUGUST 8, 2088

I had to cut half the department today.

I’m not ready for this level of pain, not yet. It’s almost as bad as losing another child. Everyone who worked for me had the best intentions at heart. They don’t deserve this.