Day 75.
I woke up and didn't recognize my room.
Not the desk.Not the photos on the wall.Not even the person in the mirror.
I touched my face.Slowly. Cautiously.Like it might belong to someone else.
The notebook on my table had my name on it.
Sakuragi Aoi.
It felt like a stranger's handwriting.
I opened the first page.
"Day 100: You are forgetting. But it's okay.There's someone who remembers for you."
The words meant nothing.
But I kept reading.
Each day was written like a letter from someone I couldn't see—but who seemed to love me very, very much.
Then the doorbell rang.
I walked downstairs slowly.Opened it.
And there he was.
A boy.
Dark hair. Quiet eyes.Familiar but unfamiliar.
He smiled.
"Hey," he said. "You probably don't remember me today."
I didn't.
"That's okay. My name's Ren.I'm someone important to you."
He held out his hand, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Can I come in?"
I should've said no.
But something in my chest pulled me toward him.
I stepped aside.
He entered.
He looked around the room, at the walls, the sofa, the cup I hadn't touched.
"Do you want me to read your notebook to you?" he asked.
I nodded.
We sat.He opened the pages.
And with a soft, steady voice,he began reading who I wasback to me.
Day 74.
Still blank.
But I remembered a sound—
Laughter.
Not mine.His.
I told him that.
He smiled.
"Maybe that's the first thing you'll keep."
That night, in my notebook, a new entry appeared.Not in my handwriting.His.
"Day 75.She forgot everything today.But she let me in."
"I think that means something."
Day 74.
We walked to the park.
I asked him questions like a curious child:
"What's your favorite color?"
"How long have we known each other?"
"Have I always been like this?"
He answered all of themas if it wasn't the tenth, or twentieth, or hundredth time.
Like every first time was still worth it.
Later, I looked at him and asked:
"Will you stay until I remember you?"
He said—
"I'll stay even if you don't."