You lost your memories the night your stepfather pushed you off a cliff.

When you woke up in the hospital, dazed and broken, the first person you saw was him—Alec, your husband.

But you didn’t recognize him.

“Who are you?” you asked, fear in your eyes.

He froze for a moment, then smiled gently. “I’m Alec… your husband.”

You flinched. “No. I don’t know you. Stay away from me.”

From that day on, he didn’t try to force the truth. Instead, every morning, he left you a letter on your bedside table. And with each one, a photo.

You and him doing face masks together, giggling. You clinging to his back, arms around his neck, both of you laughing.

You, sitting between his legs as he gently combed your hair.

You pouting at something silly, and him scooping you into his arms like you weighed nothing.

You curled up against him, his hand brushing through your hair before he kissed the top of your head.

Each letter told a story.

“You always made me do skincare with you. I complained, but secretly I liked it. You’d smear the mask all over my nose and say I looked like a raccoon.”

“You said you’d never stop loving piggybacks, even if we were 90. I told you I’d carry you until my back broke.”

“You said you liked when I brushed your hair. That it made you feel safe. So I never stopped.”

Some days, he stayed beside your door, just in case you wanted to talk. One night, your voice broke the silence.

“Alec?”

He stood immediately. “I’m here.”

You held the latest letter in your hands, eyes a little softer than yesterday. “Did we really… love each other that much?”

He walked to your side slowly. “More than words. You were my whole world.”

You looked down. “I feel something when I read these… but my mind’s still blank.”

He knelt in front of you, gently placing a hand over your trembling fingers.

“You don’t have to rush. I’ll keep loving you… until your heart remembers what your mind forgot.”