Forgetting You

fourth

The doctors said it would happen gradually.
That some days, he’d seem perfectly fine..laughing, painting, teasing me like always..
and on others, the world around him would blur like a photo out of focus.

They were right.

At first, it was little things.
He forgot where he left his phone, or the name of a restaurant we’d gone to dozens of times. He’d laugh it off, make jokes about “his brain buffering,” but behind that laugh, I saw it.. the flicker of fear.

One morning, he woke up early and made breakfast.
“Look, I’m learning from you!” he said proudly, setting a plate of half-burnt pancakes in front of me.
I laughed, kissed his forehead, and said, “You’re getting better.”

But that same night, he called me by the wrong name.
“Goodnight, Jun,” he mumbled, half-asleep.

I froze.

He must have realized it, because his eyes fluttered open, confusion written all over his face.
“Ziyu?” he whispered. “What did I just say?”

I smiled weakly, brushing his hair aside. “Nothing. Go to sleep.”

And I sat there beside him for hours, pretending everything was okay.

---

The days blurred together. Hospital visits, test results, treatments. I kept a notebook of every doctor’s word, every instruction, every date.. like if I wrote enough, I could somehow keep him from slipping away.

But memory doesn’t work like that.

He started to forget more like songs he used to hum, people he grew up with, even his favorite art pieces.
One day, I found him sitting by the window, sketchbook open, staring at a blank page.

“Don’t you want to draw today?” I asked gently.

He looked up, puzzled. “Draw what?”

I smiled, though my heart sank. “Anything. You always draw something beautiful.”

He tilted his head, almost like a child, and said, “Can you remind me what I usually draw?”

That was the first time I cried in front of him.
Right there, holding him as the late afternoon sun poured over us, I let myself break.. quietly, so he wouldn’t feel guilty.

He cupped my face and whispered, “Hey, don’t cry, Ziyu. I’ll remember again. I will.”

I nodded. “I know you will.”

But deep down, I knew the truth.
He wasn’t forgetting because he wanted to.
He was fading..slowly, cruelly..one memory at a time.

And all I could do was love him harder,
as if my love could anchor him to the world a little longer.