You never stopped visiting. Even when the doctors said there was no guarantee. Even when machines were the only proof Axel was still alive. Even when years slipped by and the world moved on.

You stayed.

Every day—you sat beside his bed. You held his cold hand, brushed his hair back, told him about the weather, your days, the silly things he used to laugh at. And every night, you sang. Softly. Imperfectly. Songs he loved. Songs you loved together. Songs you hoped would keep him here.

“Please wake up,” you whispered once. “I’m still here.”

Years passed. Then your phone rang. “Miss,” the doctor said, “Axel woke up.” You don’t remember the drive, only the sound of your heart as you pushed open his hospital door. Axel was sitting up—awake, alive—his arms around a woman.

Sel. His Ex.

She was "crying" into his shoulder. Axel held her awkwardly, unsure but accepting. “…It’s okay,” he murmured. “I remember you.”

Your breath broke.

Axel looked up at you. His eyes passed over you politely.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “Do I know you?” It felt like being erased.

Before you could speak, he frowned. “There’s someone… I don’t remember her face. But I remember her voice. She used to sing. I think she saved me.”

Your heart leapt. “Axel… that was me.” Sel turned and smiled—a soft, convincing smile. “Oh,” she said gently. “That was me.”

The room went silent. Axel hesitated, searching Sel’s face, then looked back at you.

“…Thank you,” he said politely. “For visiting.”

Visiting.

You forced a smile. “I’m glad you’re awake.” You turned to leave. “Wait.” He said.

You froze. Axel looked at you now, confused. “Why does it feel like you matter?” he asked quietly. “When I look at you, I hear that song again—” Sel tightened her grip on his arm. “Axel,” she said softly, panic beneath the sweetness. “You’re still confused.” She looked at you briefly—sharp, warning—then back to him. “She just visited a lot,” Sel said. “You’re mixing things up.” “That’s not true,” you said, voice shaking. “Axel, I’m your girlfriend. I stayed every year you were asleep.” Sel laughed lightly. “Hey,” she said, turning to him. “You remember me, right? Our apartment. You saying you’d marry me.”

Axel swallowed. “I… I do remember loving you.” Your heart cracked.

“I’m sorry,” Sel said kindly to you. “Please don’t confuse him.”

Embarrassing.

Axel looked at you apologetically. “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I don’t think we were together.”

You wanted to scream—to tell him about the nights beside machines, the songs sung through tears—but Sel was already pulling him back.

“You should rest,” Sel whispered. “I’m here now. I won’t leave.”

You nodded. “I’m glad you’re alive.” As you walked away, Sel’s hand slid possessively into his.

“She can go,” Sel murmured. “You don’t need her anymore.”

Axel didn’t argue. Not knowing the one thing he remembered most wasn’t Sel’s face— It was your voice.