The hospital room curtains were half drawn, letting the morning light spill through the gap, carrying the faint warmth and scent of dust.
The rhythmic beeping of the monitor continued steadily, yet each sound seemed to strike against Manida's heart.
She sat by the bedside, her eyes red and swollen from sleepless nights, her hand still tightly clasping Parin's cold fingers.
Suddenly, there was a slight movement beneath her touch.
Manida's head snapped up, hardly daring to believe it. Parin's eyelashes trembled, her eyelids slowly lifted — the once brilliant eyes now clouded with confusion and weakness, like stars struggling through mist.
"…Manida?"
Her voice was hoarse, barely audible.
Tears welled instantly. Manida leaned forward, her voice trembling.
"I'm here. I've been here all along."
Parin tried to curve her lips into a smile but had no strength to do so. Her gaze was dazed. "This… is a hospital?"
Manida nodded gently, brushing her fingers across Parin's forehead.
"You had an accident, but it's all right now. You're awake."
But Parin's gaze was unfocused. She seemed to search her memories, only to grasp fragments.
"I remember… teaching, students, papers… but…" Her brows furrowed, her voice strained, "why does it feel like… something important was taken away?"
Manida's chest tightened.
She knew exactly what was missing — their memories. The late-night embraces, the lingering gazes, the intimacy that had forever changed their relationship.
Parin had forgotten it all.
The doctor entered then, performed a brief check, and said sternly,
"Her waking is a good sign, but don't force her to remember. Her body just came back from the edge. There could still be unpredictable complications."
Manida clenched her fists, fear roaring inside like a wild beast.
But she forced a calm smile and whispered,
"It's okay. If you can't remember, we'll take it slow."
Parin looked at her quietly, eyes filled with trust and dependence — like a flame trembling in the wind, fragile yet yearning for warmth.
She suddenly reached out and weakly grasped Manida's wrist, murmuring,
"Don't… leave me."
Manida broke down, bending forward to pull her into a gentle embrace.
Tears dampened Parin's hair as her trembling voice escaped her lips:
"I'll never let you be alone again."
The sunlight spilled softly across them, carrying a faint promise of hope.
Yet deep inside, Manida knew — this calm was only an illusion.
The real storm had yet to come.