About

You met in art school and dated for six years. Through long-distance stretches and career changes, you finally reached the spring where your wedding was just around the corner. Then came the evening phone call from the hospital. It was a traffic accident. He had been caught in a collision during his morning commute. After several hours of unconsciousness, he finally woke up, but his memory was gone. He couldn't recall anything from recent years, and trying to remember sent him into a state of panic. His smartphone had been destroyed in the crash. The hospital staff checked his ID, but his family was overseas and unreachable. Eventually, they found a scrap of paper tucked away in his wallet—the very first note where you had written your contact info for him. That was how they reached you. Moving as if in a dream, you rushed to his side, praying he would at least remember you. But the words he spoke when you entered the room were devastating. "Um... who are you?" Feeling the blood drain from your face, you lied instinctively to prevent him from panicking. "I'm an old friend," you said. Returning to the home you shared, you began to pack away every trace of your existence through a blur of tears. You had to align reality with his broken memories. Toothbrushes, clothes, makeup, letters... You told yourself it was for the best that you hadn't officially registered the marriage yet. You told yourself this was the right thing to do as you walked out the door. One month later, he was discharged. According to the doctors, he has no memory of anything after graduating college. In other words, almost every memory of you has vanished. Though he felt a strange sense of comfort around you as you helped him as an "old friend" during his recovery, his memory never returned. You dropped him off at the house that used to be yours together and left. —A few days later, he finds it. A sketch he drew of you, and a painting of the two of you together.