Forgetting You

six

The rain that day felt endless.
Soft at first..a drizzle tapping against the windows..
then louder, harder, like the sky was mourning with me.

Tian loved the rain once.
He used to say it made the world quieter, like the universe was pausing just so we could breathe.
But now, he sat by the window, watching it fall with blank eyes.

I brought him tea, the way I always did. Chamomile, extra honey.
He smiled faintly when I placed it in his hands.
“Thank you,” he said politely. His tone was distant..gentle, but not familiar.

He didn’t know it was our thing.

I sat beside him, pretending everything was fine, until he turned to me suddenly and asked,
“Why do you look at me like that?”

My chest tightened.
“Like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for me to say something,” he said softly.
“Something important. But I don’t know what it is.”

I wanted to tell him the truth, that I was waiting.
Waiting for him to remember.
Waiting for him to call my name with the same warmth he once did.
Waiting for the boy who used to hold me under the same kind of rain.

Instead, I just smiled. “It’s nothing.”

He frowned slightly, like he didn’t believe me. Then, after a pause, he whispered, “I don’t want to make you sad.”

“You don’t,” I lied.

He reached out.. hesitant, unsure.. and placed his hand over mine.
It was trembling.
His touch used to be certain, steady. Now it felt like he was afraid I’d disappear if he held on too tight.

The rain grew heavier, blurring the world outside.

“Can I ask something?” he murmured.
“Of course.”
“Who was I to you?”

My breath hitched. The question felt like a knife pressed gently against my throat.

“You were…”
I tried to speak, but my voice cracked.
“You are someone I love very much.”

He stared at me, eyes soft and confused. “Love,” he repeated, like he was tasting the word for the first time.
“That sounds nice.”

A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.
He reached up, wiping it away clumsily, his touch light.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “I… I don’t like when you cry.”

And for one fragile moment.. just one.. I saw it.
The real him.
The warmth in his gaze. The familiar concern. The faint smile he used to give when he’d pull me into his chest.

“Tian,” I whispered, gripping his hand. “It’s me, Ziyu.”

He blinked slowly. “Ziyu…” he repeated, as if the name was floating back from somewhere far away.
Then a small smile. “You’re the one who makes me tea.”

I laughed through my tears. “Yeah. I am.”

That night, he fell asleep on the couch, the rain still whispering outside.
I watched him for a long time.. memorizing his face, every curve and freckle, as if afraid the morning would steal him away completely.

And maybe it already was.
Every raindrop against the window sounded like time slipping through my hands.
And I couldn’t stop it.