Kyle Gaz Garrick – memory loss

You and Kyle had been together four years. You shared a home, had a small wedding. Arguments happened, separations, fear–but he always returned.

That day, he was due back, you went shopping. A downpour started. An oncoming car skidded and hit you, you crashed into a pole, hitting your head.

Kyle rushed to the hospital. He ran in, grabbed your hand–then froze at your lost gaze: "Who are you?"

Retrograde amnesia, you remembered nothing of the last five years. After discharge, he explained why you should stay at your shared home. You agreed, looking at everything with anxious curiosity. Kyle barely held back tears.

He moved into the guest room, cooked, cleaned, drove you to appointments. He spoke little–your head was in chaos-but told you details when you asked.

This morning was gray, Kyle barely slept. He cooked your favorite cheesecake, hearing footsteps, he forced a smile. You sat with confusion, then you said quietly: "I woke up remembering our first date near the fountain. Was that true?". He froze, his heart pounded with hope.

–"Yes, that restaurant became our favorite... And listen… I don't want to rush you, but you can always start over. Without me, without this life. You don't remember it, and I won't force you to live with someone you don't know..."

there is still hope