On my birthday, I burned our ten years of memories with my own hands.
The phone lit up as the flames engulfed the last photo.
He sent a message: "Suddenly I miss you so much, would you like to meet up?"
But he has forgotten me for ten years.
In these ten years, he got married, had children, and had a successful career.
And I, guarding the vegetative diagnosis certificate, waited for him to wake up.
Now that he is awake, he only remembers me when I was sixteen.
The doctor said it was selective amnesia, excluding everything about me.
Meet? I laughed and cried, okay, let's just get to know each other again.
He looked at my red and swollen eyes: Is your boyfriend treating you badly?
I shook my head: He died for me ten years ago.
