After the car accident, my boyfriend and I both lost our memories. We had no choice but to void our relationship. He couldn't wait to chase after his newly single "White Moonlight" – the girl who got away. I started dating my old deskmate who had just returned from abroad. I thought we both had bright futures ahead of us. Until I sincerely wished him luck in pursuing his true love. He went crazy, screaming at me: "Who gave you permission to actually lose your memories and forget me?!" I didn't understand. Was he faking his amnesia all along? 1 I broke up with Liam. On our two-year anniversary, we got into a car accident and both ended up with amnesia. Close friends came to the hospital and told us we were a couple. Liam looked me up and down, raised an eyebrow, and made a quick decision: "Since neither of us remembers, I guess we aren't a couple anymore." I understood what he meant, but I hesitated. "But we might remember eventually. What if we regret it? Everyone knows we were together." He chuckled lightly, sounding completely sure of himself. "If you truly like someone, even if you forget the details, the feeling remains. Besides, who can say if we'll ever get our memories back?" True. Even the doctor couldn't guarantee when or if our memories would return. He just suggested we interact with people and things from our past to jog our memories. The doctor explained that there are many types of amnesia. Ours seemed to be selective amnesia. We only forgot specific people and events—like our relationship and each other. Everything else, we remembered clearly. This usually happens when the brain or heart suffers severe trauma. It's a self-defense mechanism to lock away bad memories. Unless the patient is willing to unlock them from within, external intervention doesn't do much. A friend visiting us had an epiphany after hearing this: "So, basically, you can't wake a person who's pretending to be asleep." I lowered my head and breathed slowly, then glanced at Liam, who was pursing his lips in silence. He turned his face away and scoffed: "If we're both willing to forget, it means it wasn't important." Fair point. One person forgetting might be a coincidence. Two people forgetting means it didn't matter. When I first woke up in the hospital and learned he was my boyfriend but I had no memory of him, I was nervous. I met his scrutinizing gaze and apologized weakly: "Sorry, I don't remember you." Unexpectedly, he smiled as if a heavy burden had been lifted: "It's okay. I forgot you too." And so, our two-year relationship was officially voided in that moment. Liam couldn't wait to post on social media: [The End.] Letting everyone know we broke up. The first comment was from Sophie. She teased: "Liam, copying me again?" Copying what? She dated, he dated. She broke up, he broke up. Sophie and Liam were high school classmates. In college, she became my roommate. She was the one who introduced Liam to me, saying: "Why let an outsider have him? Keep the good stuff in the circle. What do you think? Is my high school buddy handsome?" He was handsome. Tall, long legs, sharp features. Especially when he smiled—cool but boyish. I wanted to be with him the moment I saw him. Later, because of Sophie, we got closer. On the night Sophie announced her new relationship, Liam confessed to me. Now, coincidentally, we were both single again. 2 Everything went back to square one. But Liam still showed up downstairs at our dorm every day. He was there for Sophie. Unlike us, whose relationship ended due to amnesia, she remembered her relationship and was having a hard time moving on. Liam tried every trick to cheer her up. I saw them when I was coming back from the library. Liam handed Sophie a bag of roasted chestnuts and some artisanal pastries that supposedly required a three-hour wait. He comforted her gently: "Don't be sad. Tomorrow I'll take you to the arcade." "We'll win as many Cinnamoroll plushies as you want." The next second, he looked up and saw me walking toward them. The hallway lights were bright. I couldn't see his expression clearly against the backlight, but I felt him stiffen. Probably because we just broke up. Even though we were now strangers, less than friends. Sophie, on the other hand, walked over with red eyes. She must have been crying, but she still forced a brave smile for me: "Sarah, don't misunderstand. There's nothing going on between me and Liam. Once he gets his memory back, everything will be fine. He's just helping me distract myself from the breakup." This wasn't the first time she'd said this to me. Even though I always replied calmly: "It's fine. I don't remember anyway, and we broke up." Next time we met, she'd say it again, as if convinced we would definitely regain our memories and get back together. She would even sigh enviously: "I wish I had amnesia like you guys. Then I wouldn't be so heartbroken." She was heartbroken. So much so that she went out drinking right after the breakup. Once, at a bar, she saw her ex celebrating a friend's birthday and mistook the friend for a new girlfriend. She caused a scene. When the guy yelled at her, Liam rushed in and started a fight. Bottles smashed, cake flew everywhere. Liam ruined someone's birthday party and got his face cut by a shard of glass. Seeing the wound on his face, I was horrified and lost control, blurting out: "Liam, can you stop being so impulsive?!" He wiped the blood off his face, not caring at all: "If I'm not impulsive, they'll bully Sophie. That scumbag deserved it. Sophie is so sad, why does he get to celebrate happily?" I thought he was unreasonable, but I still softened my voice and begged: "Next time, be careful not to hurt your face, okay?" These were events I read about in my diary. I've always kept a diary. It also recorded how, shortly after we started dating, we walked past a row of claw machines after a movie. I excitedly wanted to win a Butter Puppy plushie. Liam kept his hands in his pockets, looking bored, and said: "Too childish. Claw machines are for kids." But now, he was telling Sophie he'd take her to the arcade and win her tons of Cinnamorolls. I guess amnesia changed his perspective. Just like my diary mentioned him saying that waiting three hours for overly sweet pastries wasn't worth it. I never got that Butter Puppy, and I never tasted those pastries. I didn't know if he meant the pastries weren't worth it. Or the person. 3 Liam didn't like these conversations between Sophie and me. She said there was nothing between them. I said we were long broken up. Every time, Liam would interrupt unhappily: "A love that can be forgotten isn't much of a love. Even if I remember, we won't be together again." Yeah. Forgotten means forgotten. Not liked enough. The past is smoke; one breath and it's gone. Nothing to hold onto. I had no interest in their developing relationship, but I bumped into them almost every day. Junior year course load was heavy. Liam wasn't even in our department, but he skipped his own classes every day to sit with Sophie in hers. I’m sure Liam never did that for me, because soon girls were asking Sophie: "Wow, is that your boyfriend? He's so hot!" Sophie would wave her hands, smiling, explaining while the light in Liam's eyes dimmed: "No, no, we're just friends." The girls would say "Oh~" suggestively, looking back and forth between them. "Friends..." They didn't say the rest, but everyone was imagining it. What kind of friend skips class every day to sit with you? Buys your favorite bubble tea every time? Eats with you after class? Specifically sits between you and other guys? Even when it rained, he got soaked protecting her from the water. Which led directly to a fever and a cold. So the next day, when he accompanied Sophie to class, he was lying on the desk, groggy and sick. During the break, he suddenly groaned hoarsely: "Sarah, I feel terrible..." The voice wasn't loud, but it was abrupt. People around us turned to look at me, sitting in the back row. Even Sophie asked him nervously: "Liam, did... did you remember?" My pen stopped. I looked up, then down. A long time later, I heard him whisper: "Dizzy. My head is foggy." Maybe he really was foggy. Because when I went to the infirmary at noon to buy Vitamin C and saw him getting an IV drip, the first thing he said when he saw me through his exhaustion was: "Shrimp and vegetable porridge again?" We both froze. I knew why he said that. My diary recorded that whenever he was sick, I brought him shrimp and vegetable porridge and ate with him. He had frowned once and asked helplessly: "Change the flavor next time." I smiled and agreed softly, but next time, I still bought shrimp and vegetable. Eventually, he got used to it. But now, he blurted it out while having amnesia. In the silence, his gaze moved to my empty hands. He seemed to wake up, realizing his mistake. Under my slightly surprised gaze, he said stiffly: "Don't misunderstand. I didn't get my memory back. I just... habit of thought. Yeah, maybe it happened before." I didn't care about his stumbling explanation. I smiled indifferently, said "No misunderstanding," and left the infirmary with my vitamins. His gaze lingered on my back for a long time. I didn't look back. My phone buzzed in my pocket. Reminder for my tutoring gig. Math, physics, chem for a high schooler. I rushed over with my lesson plans. As soon as I walked in, the student ran out of the study to greet me: "Miss Sarah!" A second later, another figure walked out of the study. Elegant, tall, holding a test paper. His gaze landed on my face without hesitation. Our eyes met, and my smile froze. The student excitedly told me: "Miss Sarah, this is the cousin I told you about with the terrible grades, Chen. He just got back from abroad today." She turned to him proudly: "This is the teacher I told you about, Sarah. She's amazing. She goes to the university I dream of getting into." Chen stood by the door, one hand in his pocket, looking relaxed. After hearing the intro, he looked at me with a half-smile: "Teacher Sarah..." "Long time no see." 4 It had been a long time since we parted before college entrance exams. Long enough that I thought I'd never see him again. My high school deskmate—Chen. The impression was too deep. Back then, his terrible grades stuck out like a sore thumb in the advanced class at City High. His personality was cold and jerky. For a long time, I thought he was useless except for his face. Until one day after PE class, I accidentally got locked in the equipment room. As Friday evening approached, the school emptied out. I tried climbing the high windows repeatedly but failed. Just as I was curling up in a darkening corner, hopeless, the door was kicked open. Light poured in. Slowly revealing Chen's silhouette. I had to admit, in that moment, backlit and glowing, he looked like a god descending from heaven. I stood up and thanked him earnestly. He walked closer, smiling down at me: "Verbal thanks aren't enough, Student Sarah. I plan to demand repayment for my kindness." It wasn't an unacceptable demand. Just tutoring. When we first started school, I saw him frustrated over a test score of 15/100 and kindly offered to explain the questions. Back then, he just looked at me coldly and said: "Mind your business. Who wants to listen to you?" But the next time he encountered the same type of question, he remembered to use the method I mentioned. However, his defensiveness was strong. No matter how kind and enthusiastic I was, I eventually retreated. I didn't expect him to ask for help now. At least he had ambition. We got closer through tutoring. In those youthful days of burying our heads in books, my life seemed to consist only of schoolwork and Chen. Once, I got sick and was hospitalized. My parents were busy with work and couldn't come. The person who showed up in my ward was Chen. I lay in bed, looking at him with his backpack slung over one shoulder, surprised: "Did you skip class?" He raised an eyebrow at me: "Is that weird?" True. Skipping class used to be his daily routine. He stopped because of the tutoring, so I had forgotten. Seeing I was silent, he took off his bag and said leisurely: "I'm not here for a lecture, Teacher Sarah." I was shocked and accused him: "Chen, are you an evil capitalist? I'm sick and you want me to work? This is exploitation!" He chuckled and pulled a takeout box from his bag. Suddenly serious, his voice softened: "Yeah. Compensation for exploitation." It was shrimp and vegetable porridge. The ward was quiet. Soft sunset light filtered through the window. He ate porridge with me, slowly. I held my spoon and tilted my head, smiling at him: "Thank you, Chen." The only person who came to visit me. The taste of quiet days makes you think the future is long. But change always comes suddenly. Before the college entrance exams, a criminal my dad had arrested was released. Seeking revenge, he deliberately tried to hit me with a car. At the critical moment, Chen pushed me away. In the chaos, I threw myself next to his bloodied body, afraid to touch him. I only remember through my blurred vision, he seemed to use his last bit of strength to twitch his lips: "Don't cry. Wait for me to wake up and demand repayment!" I didn't wait. Because he completely disappeared from my life. The medical staff told me his family took him away. I knew it. Entering the advanced class with bottom-tier grades, the respectful attitude of the homeroom teacher... the distance between us was so vast I could never cross it. It was fine. He would have better medical resources. I just had some regrets. I hadn't properly said thank you yet. A life debt. How did he want me to repay him back then?
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