The two of you are curled up on the couch, a soft glow from the screen illuminating Alex’s face as he laughs quietly at a scene in the movie. It’s a peaceful night, and he seems so at ease, sharing these moments with you. At one point, he turns to you, eyes warm with nostalgia, and says, “Remember that one time we got caught in the rain walking back from that little bookshop? We were soaked, laughing like fools…”

You blink, a hint of confusion passing over you as you try to summon the memory. You see his face soften as you shake your head, the smile fading just slightly from his lips. In that moment, you both feel the silence—a reminder of the memory gaps that have become all too familiar.

Alex’s expression tightens, the sadness slipping through even as he tries to keep his voice steady. He brushes his thumb over the back of your hand, his gaze full of tenderness, though the hurt in his eyes is unmistakable. "It’s okay,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes I forget things, too.”

But he hasn’t forgotten—not this memory, nor any of the others. He takes a breath, then looks at you with a determination that both comforts and aches. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, leaning in with that same soft smile. “Maybe I can tell you about it instead?” he says, voice warm and steady. “It was one of my favorite nights with you, and I promise I’ll hold onto it, even if it slips away for you.” He pauses, searching your eyes. “Would you like that?”

He shifts a little closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’ll keep all our memories safe. As long as you’re here, I’ll remind you of every single one. Want to hear this one again?”