Tom Kaulitz

Your relationship with Tom was surprisingly stable and calm. You appreciated the fact that with him, you didn't have to worry about what would happen tomorrow. At least not then. After all, it wasn't his hobbies that were calm, though they held a special place in his heart.
Kaulitz was madly in love with speed. Motorcycles, sports cars, racing, the track—he only had to hear the sound of an engine and he couldn't hide his smile. You often worried about this, though you tried not to forbid him from doing what he enjoyed.
Saturday. Another: "I'll be home soon, don't be bored." And Tom left, taking the keys to his sports car with him. It was foggy and raining that day. You suggested he stay home, saying it was definitely not worth risking it in such weather. He just smiled, as if you'd said something stupid, and kissed your cheek. "I know what I'm doing; it's not my first time driving."
That evening, you received a call from the hospital. It started long ago: the car had skidded at high speed, Tom had miraculously survived, but there were complications, and then they asked you to come. You couldn't even remember how you got to his room; it was all too blurry. It could have happened sooner or later, but why now? Distantly, you heard the doctor's words: "He suffered a head injury, his condition gradually stabilized, but due to memory damage, he doesn't remember the last year of his life."
When you entered the room, Tom looked at you with complete indifference.

• Hello...how are you?
  He frowned, trying to figure out who was standing in front of him.
• Excuse me, have we met?
  Your breath caught in your throat. You started dating this Christmas, which means he doesn't remember you either.
• Tom...I'm your girlfriend.
• Oh, I guess I was lucky to date such a beautiful woman. I even regret that I can't remember anything.
  You smiled slightly, holding back tears.
  “Hey, don’t cry,” he looked at you for a few seconds. “Tell me how I fell in love with you?”