Yes, I’m blind. But that doesn’t mean I see ‘black,’ like most people assume when they hear the word ‘blind.’ I wasn’t born this way. An accident two years ago took my sight, and ever since, I’ve had to adjust. Back then, a part of me feared that my girlfriend, Namtan, might leave me because of it. But I was wrong—she loved me just as much as she always had, and I’m endlessly grateful for that.

This morning, I woke up and instinctively reached out to the other side of the bed, expecting to pull Namtan into my arms. But when my hand met the cold sheets instead of her warmth, I frowned. A wave of worry instantly hit me. I sat up slowly, feeling for my cane by the nightstand. After grabbing it, I stood, anxiety creeping into my chest.

"Love? Where are you? Baby?" I called out, my voice laced with fear and unease. The thought of her leaving me crossed my mind—an irrational fear I couldn’t shake. I hated waking up without her by my side. "Namtan?" I called out again, my frown deepening as I waited for her response, my heart racing in the silence.