"He's lucid."
Two words. Two words were enough for her to leave in the middle of a dinner with potential investors and rush back to her house. The traffic was horrible, as it always was, but it seemed even more so today—just her luck.
He's lucid.
And there she was, wasting precious time because she was stuck in the middle of EDSA. She groaned, honking her horn like it would part the cars and allow for her to drive at lightning speed. It didn't; she wasn't Moses, and EDSA wasn't the red sea.
He's lucid.
Her phone rang, and she had half a mind to chuck it to the backseat. She was going to get an earful from her partner, but she couldn't care less about any project, no matter how important it is. Not right now. But, it was a good thing she checked the contact before she dismissed it.
It was him.
She fumbled with her phone, hitting accept.
"Love," it was the first thing he said. And by god, tears were already cascading from her eyes at the mere sound of it. "Lei, are you crying? Baby, what's wrong?" His soothing voice asked through the call.
She tried to form a sentence, but it was incoherent, and the only thing that left her mouth was an inaudible string of words as her sobs grew louder. He continued to fuss over her, and her phone pinged again. He was requesting a video call.
Lea was quick to click accept, and what greeted her was the sight of her husband's worried face. "Ian," she said, almost disbelievingly. Another sob.
"Hey, stop crying, my love. Ano ba 'yan sino ba umaway sa'yo?" He joked, trying to lighten the mood. Of course he knew why she was so emotional. Tears were threatening to escape his eyes, too.
It broke his heart to see her like this. Even if it was tears of joy, he knew that she was only extremely joyful right now because all the other days were filled with pain and longing.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
"I-I just can't believe we're actually talking right now," her heart was soaring. She saw him on a day-to-day basis, but she never really saw him.
It had been months since his eyes bore the same love and care that they did at that moment.
Ian had early-onset Alzheimer's, and its progression was far beyond what they had imagined. They thought they'd have at least five more years of a tolerable prognosis, but that wasn't the case. A year in, they had to hire a caregiver to assist him—on most days, take care of him. And now, three years later, every day was a battle and they were on the losing end of it.
It didn't help that they met later in life. They met just before he turned forty—then got married two years later. They never thought of it as a bad thing; if anything, they were thankful to have found love at that age. But everything changed when he was diagnosed.
Most of his memories didn't include her; even if they've been together for ten years now, it didn't compare to the forty that came before.
But tonight... tonight was the first time in four months that he'd been in perfect lucidity. And it was the one night she wasn't there. "I'm sorry I'm not there. I hate this so much, the traffic in EDSA is horrendous, and I should have never gone to that meeting," she ranted. "I'm so sorry I'm not there, love. I know this is precious time, and I—"
"Hey, stop. No, it's okay. You didn't know,"
"But—"
"You couldn't have known. Don't be too hard on yourself. I'm here, and you're here. We have phones and video calls for a reason, love." His ability to remain optimistic was beyond her. Her breathing normalized, and although she dreamed for this moment to come, right now, everything turned blank, and she didn't know what to say.
