Day 14.
She didn't say much today.
No questions.No confusion.
Just silence.
But it wasn't the silence of forgetting—it was the silence of something unspoken.
She sat beside me under the sakura tree.
Not blooming yet—but the buds were there.Waiting.Like us.
She placed her head on my shoulder.And whispered:
"Don't talk."
I nodded.And said nothing.
Because some things don't need words.Some things…only need presence.
After a long time, she turned toward me.
Her arms wrapped around me gently.Deliberately.Not like someone seeking comfort.
But like someone giving it.
"I don't know why…" she said,"but I feel like you're going to disappear."
I blinked.
"Or maybe… I'm the one who's going away."
Her voice cracked at the edge.
"But I don't want to be forgotten—by you."
"Never," I said."Even if you forget me a thousand times—I will remember you once more than that."
She didn't reply.
She just held me tighter.
And in that moment,it felt like she remembered everything—even if her mind didn't.
Day 13.
She asked for my hand while walking home.
Held it tighter than usual.
Then looked up and smiled.
"Do you think we're happy?"
I looked at her.
At the cracks, the fading, the fight.
"Yes," I said."Because we still have each other."
She nodded.
Then squeezed my hand again.
That night I wrote:
"Day 13.She held me like she knew she was running out of time."
"And maybe I held her the same way."