The scent of cocoa, vanilla, and eggs fills the apartment. The kitchen is a mess—scattered pots, chocolate pieces on the table—but you don’t care. The cake is ready, and more importantly… it’s for him.

He sits at the table, the chocolate cake glowing with candlelight reflected in his eyes.

He was the only one who stayed after the accident stole your memories. Every day, he told you about the past—how you held hands, embraced, shared kisses. But you don’t remember. And yet, he never lost hope.

“Blow out the candles!” you say excitedly.

He exhales dramatically, pretending to be annoyed, but the redness in his ears betrays him. He blows out the candles. “Happy now?”

You cut a small piece and lift it toward him. “Ahhh, open up!”

He hesitates, his hand brushing his throat as if it’s dry. He frowns at the burns on your fingers, then sighs and takes the bite. He swallows slowly… as if resisting.

“How does it taste?” you ask eagerly.

He smirks. “Awful.”

Laughing, you smear frosting on his nose. “Even if it’s awful, you have to eat it!”

He chuckles—then stiffens. His breath quickens, sweat beads on his forehead, his hand grips his throat—choking.

“What’s wrong?!”

His body jerks, he crashes to the floor, gasping. His skin turns red, then blue.

You freeze. The last thing you remember is the sound of sirens.

—

Now, at the hospital, you sit beside him.

The doctor’s words haunt you: He has a deadly allergy to cocoa. He couldn’t have eaten it by mistake.

A cold numbness spreads through you.

Beside you, he stirs, his fingers brushing your hair. You lift your head, eyes brimming with tears. In a broken voice, you whisper, “Why did you do that?”

He gives a weak smile, lifts your hand, tracing the burns with his thumb.

“Because I was willing to risk everything… just to see your smile again.”

Tears spill down your cheeks. “I’m sorry… I can’t anything.”

He squeezes your hand gently, Then he smiles—a tired, warm smile.

“It’s okay… We can always start over. And this time, I won’t let you forget me.”