1. The First Time She Couldn't Remember
It started with the coffee.
Lena always took hers black with one sugar. But that morning, she stared into the mug Noah handed her like she'd never seen liquid before.
"Since when do I drink coffee with sugar?" she asked, voice still rough with sleep.
Noah froze. "You… always do."
Lena blinked. A slow, creeping horror dawned in her eyes as she realized—she'd forgotten.
She covered it with a laugh too sharp to be real. "Must be the meds frying my brain." She took a sip and grimaced. "Tastes like shit."
Noah watched her force it down anyway, his chest so tight he couldn't breathe.
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2. The Medicine Cabinet
Noah started keeping a list on his phone:
- 8 AM: Keppra (anti-seizure)
- 12 PM: Propranolol (migraines)
- 6 PM: Lorazepam (anxiety)
- 10 PM: Oxycodone (pain)
The bottles multiplied like ghosts haunting their apartment. Lena pretended not to notice when Noah hid the stronger ones—the ones that made her sleep for fourteen hours straight, the ones that left her groggy and disoriented, staring at her own hands like they belonged to someone else.
One night, he found her sitting on the bathroom floor, the contents of the cabinet strewn around her.
"I can't open it," she whispered, holding up a childproof bottle with trembling fingers.
Noah knelt beside her, prying the cap off with ease. Lena burst into tears.
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#3. The ER at 3 AM
The seizure hit without warning.
One moment Lena was laughing at some stupid movie, the next she was rigid, her back arched off the couch, her teeth clenched so hard Noah heard something crack.
Noah had never called 911 before. He didn't remember dialing. Didn't remember the paramedics bursting in. Only fragments:
- The way Lena's eyes rolled back, showing only white.
- The guttural, animal sound he realized was coming from his own throat.
- The paramedic asking "How long has she been like this?" and Noah screaming "FIX HER" instead of answering.
At the hospital, a doctor with tired eyes used phrases like "neurological degradation" and "quality of life." Noah threw a chair at the wall.
They sedated him.
When he woke, Lena was propped up in bed, an IV in her arm, smiling like nothing had happened. "Hey, you."
Noah broke down sobbing at her feet.
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4. The Wheelchair
Lena refused it at first.
"I'm not there yet," she snapped when Noah brought it home.
But the truth was in the way she leaned heavily on walls after walking just a few steps. The way her legs sometimes gave out mid-sentence. The way Noah would wake to find her crawling to the bathroom because standing was too hard.
The first time she used it, they both pretended it was a joke.
"Race you to the kitchen," Noah said, pushing her too fast, making her shriek with laughter.
Later, he'd find her slumped in it at 4 AM, silently crying, her fists clenched in her lap.
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5. The Last Good Day
They went to the beach again.
Lena slept the entire drive, her head lolling against the window. Noah carried her to their usual spot, her body frighteningly light in his arms.
She woke to the sound of waves, blinking up at him. "Did I miss it?"
"Miss what?"
"Everything."
Noah kissed her instead of answering.
That afternoon, Lena could still walk a little—just to the water's edge, leaning heavily on Noah. She let the waves lick her toes, her face tilted toward the sun.
"Tell me something happy," she murmured.
Noah told her about the first time he saw her, how she'd laughed instead of yelling when he ruined her books. How he'd fallen in love with her in that instant without even realizing it.
Lena rested her head on his shoulder. "That *is* happy."
They both pretended not to notice when she wet herself, the dark stain spreading down her leggings.
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6. The Night She Begged
It started as a bad headache. Then the vomiting. Then the slurred speech.
By midnight, Lena was clawing at Noah's shirt, her words barely intelligible:
"P-please… make it stop."
Noah called the hospice nurse, who came and administered a shot of something strong. Lena finally stilled, her breathing ragged.
The nurse pulled Noah aside. "It's time to consider—"
"No."
But he knew. They both did.
That night, Noah lay beside Lena's sleeping form, counting each labored breath.
*Stay. Stay. Stay.*