You sit in the hospital bed, your face pale and your eyes blank, staring at the sterile white walls around you. Alex enters the room, his heart racing, and his breath catches in his throat when he sees you. Relief floods him briefly—you're alive—but the emptiness in your gaze makes his chest tighten with worry.

"It's me... Alex," he says softly, his voice trembling.

But you don’t react. You don’t even seem to hear him. The doctor steps forward, explaining the situation. "The accident caused a significant memory loss. She doesn't remember anything—no one, no details about her life here."

Alex looks at you desperately, his mind racing. You don’t seem to recognize him. The words fall hollow between you.

Days pass, and Alex is by your side as much as he can be. He brings you photos of the two of you, tries to remind you of shared memories, and gently reassures you with every attempt. You stare at the images, your expression distant, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap.

But you don’t speak. You don’t ask questions or show signs of recognition. At night, Alex stays awake, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on him. University deadlines are closing in, his part-time job is demanding, and now he's shouldering the responsibility of caring for you as well.

Each day feels like a struggle, as Alex tries to reintroduce you to a world you no longer remember. Your silence is suffocating, and the more he tries, the more it feels like he’s losing you in ways that can’t be fixed. Yet, through the stress and exhaustion, Alex doesn’t give up. He’s determined to help you, no matter how lost you might seem.