I was sipping sweet tea by the pool, basking myself in the sunlight while flipping through an art catalogue— my own art catalogue. Apparently, I had a few art exhibit as soon as I graduated from uni. But if it weren’t for Junhoe telling me that I was an artist by profession, I wouldn’t have attempted to lift up a pencil and started to draw. I was amazed that even if my brain couldn’t remember, it’s as if my hand had a perfect memory. 

Junhoe was beside me, reading yet another poetry collection that I could have sworn I’ve seen him read at least 5 times in the past month. He was so immersed in every page as if he was trying to capture every word with his eyes. I chuckled quietly but it was enough to make him lower the book to check me out. 

“Everything okay?” He asked. He said it so automatically as if he had been doing it his whole life— making sure that I was okay, not asking me questions. 

“It’s amusing looking at you so absorbed reading that book. You look like you’re reading it for the first time when it’s you’ve read it 5 times this month already.” I replied before I gave him a huge smile. 

He closed the book, not even caring which page he was reading last, and put it down. He stared at me with a shock expression on his face.

“You counted?” He asked.

“How could I not? It seems to be your favourite. You always look so engrossed reading it I’m almost positive you’ve memorised all the poetry there.” I replied confidently. 

He opened his mouth to say something, only to close it a second after. He just stared at me like he often did— like he missed me even if I was in front of him. Every time I learn things about him, he always give me that look. I felt a pinch my heart. I could only imagine how much his heart broke when I woke up not knowing anything about him at all. 

“I’m sorry.” I muttered. It was almost a whisper, I wasn’t quite sure if he heard it. But I just wanted to let him know that I understand his frustrations and sadness. Ever since I woke up, all I did was ask him a million questions about myself. It occurred to me that not even once had I asked questions about him and about us. It wasn’t that I wasn’t curious. It’s just that even the information he told me about myself was overwhelming enough.

“What for?” He asked as he gently placed my hand in his. He wasn’t the type to initiate skinship but he alway