"Then don't remember," Mei Xing said, her voice cracking with desperation as his condition worsened. "Don't go back there. Stay here with me. Focus on my voice, on this moment."
But her words seemed to dissolve before reaching him. His eyes had gone glassy, unfocused, pupils dilated with terror. She watched helplessly as he slipped further away from her, drowning in memories she couldn't fight.
Panic clawed at her own chest. Nothing was working—not her voice, not her touch, not her presence. In that moment of desperate clarity, she made a choice that crossed every boundary between them.
Without hesitation, she pressed her forehead firmly against his, her hands sliding to the back of his neck to hold him steady. The intimate closeness was immediate, undeniable—their breaths mingling in the small space between them as she anchored him with her unwavering presence.
