Chapter 1

I fell in love with my therapist.

Everyone warned me she was a player who toyed with men's hearts and never caught real feelings.

Yet she treated me differently, cooking meals in an apron and whispering sweet comforts into the dead of night.

Recently, she even told me she wanted to have a baby with me.

I genuinely believed I was her one exception.

That was until I found the hidden medical chart in her bookshelf.

The photograph attached showed a boy who looked uncannily like me.

Only then did I realize I was never her exception―I was just a stand-in for a ghost.

1.

The yellowed medical records slipped from my trembling fingers.

I had just read every single word.

Corinne, the woman I had lived with for three whole years, never loved me at all.

I was merely a replacement.

The horrifying truth hit me, sending a sharp, agonizing ache through my chest.

"Brandon, dinner's ready!"

Her voice drifted from the kitchen.

I hurriedly picked up the papers and tucked them back into place.

When I walked out, the table was already set.

"Look, I made your favorites―glazed ribs and buttered salmon."

She smiled warmly, piling food onto my plate.

Ever since we moved in together, she cooked for me every single day.

She never once asked what I actually liked to eat; she simply followed her own menu.

I never particularly loved the food, but I never hated it either.

I always cleaned my plate just to keep her happy.

"Go ahead, eat. Why are you just staring?" she urged gently.

Looking down at the fish, my mind drifted to the note scribbled on the back of that file:

*He loves buttered salmon, glazed ribs, roasted eggplant...*

The handwriting was neat and meticulous, showing how deeply she cared for that boy's tastes.

I took a bite, and she began pouring red wine.

"A little wine makes dinner perfect."

She leaned in and planted a soft kiss on my cheek.

This was her routine before every single meal, without fail.

I used to think it was proof of her love.

Now I knew the bitter truth.

The chart was filled with Silas's quirks.

*He likes a glass of wine before dinner.*

*He always feels down during meals, so I must kiss his cheek every time. Corinne, remember this, never forget!*

Silas, just like me, suffered from severe clinical depression.

The file was dated five years ago, when he first became her patient.

It documented their exact sessions.

At one point, he had asked: "Dr. Hayes, it's Valentine's Day. Could you give me a rose?"

"I already got a huge bouquet ready for you."

On the back, she wrote: *He loves roses. I must remember to give him a bouquet every Valentine's Day.*

The doorbell rang, snapping me out of my daze.

Corinne hopped up to answer the door.

A delivery driver handed her a massive bouquet of deep red roses.

She accepted them with a beaming smile and walked back toward me.

"I got your Valentine's gift ready early. A huge bouquet of roses. Do you love it?"

Her gaze was dripping with affection.

A wave of dizziness hit me, making me momentarily forget who I was.

As the stems were pressed into my hands, clarity rushed back.

I was Brandon, not Silas.

I was just the phantom she projected him onto.