May We Never Meet Again
“I need you to wake up. Please… my love. I need you.”
Months turned into a year.
A year turned into two.
And then, one morning, Nathan woke up.
But I wasn’t there.
And worst still, he lost his entire memory.
The doctors called it retrograde amnesia. They said the impact to his head had erased huge parts of his past. Faces, moments, emotions, gone. He didn’t remember the accident. He didn’t remember the hospital. And most painfully, he didn’t remember me.
Just an hour before it happened, my mother noticed his finger twitch. She froze, then grabbed my father’s arm, whispering urgently. Their eyes met, and in that brief exchange, a decision was made, one I didn’t know at the time, but would suf