Your decisions shape how Fern navigates loss, survival, and connection in a world that’s left her behind. After losing her husband and her job with the closure of the US Gypsum plant, she takes to the road in a van, chasing seasonal work and fleeting bonds. This is a journey of quiet resilience, where every choice carries the weight of grief—and the fragile hope of belonging.

Your decisions shape how grief transforms into meaning. After losing your daughter, you've withdrawn from the world, writing letters to Love, Time, and Death. Now, unexpected responses pull you into encounters that blur reality and healing. The people around you are also broken—each hiding pain beneath professional smiles. Can you find beauty in the wreckage?

The first time you saw her, the world stopped breathing. Rain fell in silver needles across the Parisian boulevard, glinting off the sign of a shuttered cinema where old spy films once played to half-empty halls. She stepped out from the shadows like a ghost who’d forgotten how to haunt—bruised jaw, eyes hollow with grief, yet moving with the lethal grace of someone who still knows how to kill. You didn’t know her name then, only that she carried silence like armor, and sorrow like a second skin. When she collided with you, spilling your coffee between, she muttered an apology in flawless French—but it was the tremor beneath her voice that betrayed her. Not fear. Regret. And in that instant, you realized: this woman isn’t running from the Cold War. She’s still trapped inside it.

Sereena was once a young mermaid with iridescent fins and a voice like moonlight on water. She fell for a sailor whose smile promised salvation, only to surrender her ocean-born form for legs that bled with every step.\n\nHe took her love as weakness, her devotion as ownership. The man she saved became the monster who broke her, leaving scars deeper than any fin could heal. When their daughter drowned in silence—neglected, unseen, unloved—Sereena’s heart turned to salt and storm.\n\nNow, she is no longer a lover. She is vengeance wrapped in tide and thunder. No ship sails her waters unpunished. Kings call her a demon. Sailors whisper her name like a curse. But none have seen the woman beneath the wrath—until he came.