The classroom felt incomplete.
Not quieter—just… off.
Like something important had been removed, and no one knew how to adjust.
But that didn't stop them from talking.
"They said she doesn't remember anything."
"Nothing at all?"
"Yeah… like, even her friends."
Ren sat still, his fingers lightly gripping the edge of his desk.
Not looking at anyone.
Just listening.
"Memory loss," the teacher confirmed later, her voice unusually soft. "Isha is stable now, but she'll need time. The doctors said it may be temporary… or it may take longer."
A pause.
"I expect all of you to be supportive when she returns."
Supportive.
The word hung in the air.
Ren lowered his eyes.
He had heard words like that before.
They never lasted.
He didn't know why he was thinking about going.
He had no reason to.
No connection.
No place there.
And yet—
That afternoon, his feet didn't take the usual road home.
The hospital stood tall and quiet, its white walls almost too clean, too distant.
Ren stopped at the entrance.
People moved in and out—worried faces, tired eyes, hurried steps.
He didn't belong here.
He knew that.
Still—
He walked in.
The smell of antiseptic filled the air.
He kept his head down, unsure of where to go, until he overheard a nurse speaking at the reception.
"Room 207. The girl from the accident."
His steps slowed.
Then continued.
Outside the room, he stopped.
The door was slightly open.
Voices came from inside.
"…you don't remember me?" a girl's voice asked, shaky.
Silence.
"I—I'm your best friend, Isha."
Another pause.
"I'm sorry…" Isha's voice came, soft and uncertain. "I don't… I don't remember."
Something tightened in Ren's chest.
More voices followed.
Names.
Memories.
Laughter that sounded forced.
Each person trying to remind her of who she used to be.
But none of it worked.
Ren stood there, unseen.
Unnoticed.
Like always.
After a while, one by one, they began to leave.
Disappointed.
Uncomfortable.
"I'm sure it'll come back," someone said on their way out.
"Yeah… just give it time."
Their voices faded down the hallway.
Silence returned.
Ren should have left.
There was no reason to stay.
But his hand moved before his mind could stop it.
And slowly—
He pushed the door open.
Isha was sitting up in bed, staring at her hands.
Like they didn't belong to her.
She looked up.
And their eyes met.
For a moment—
Neither of them spoke.
There was no recognition in her gaze.
No familiarity.
No judgment.
Just… curiosity.
"Are you… here to tell me who I am too?" she asked quietly.
Her voice held something fragile.
Something tired.
Ren shook his head.
"No."
A small pause.
"Then… why are you here?"
He didn't have an answer.
Not a real one.
"I just…" he hesitated, then looked away slightly, "saw the accident."
That wasn't the whole truth.
But it wasn't a lie either.
"Oh."
She nodded slowly, as if that made sense.
Silence settled again.
But this time—
It wasn't heavy.
Isha studied him for a moment.
"You're not saying anything about me," she said.
Ren frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
"Everyone else comes in and tells me things," she replied. "What I like. What I hate. Who I was."
She looked down again.
"They talk like I'm someone I should remember being… but I don't feel like that person."
Her fingers tightened slightly around the bedsheet.
"It's like… they're describing a stranger."
Ren didn't interrupt.
Didn't try to fix it.
Because he understood.
"I don't know who I am," she whispered.
The room felt smaller somehow.
Ren looked at her—not the girl everyone knew, not the version people kept describing—
But the one sitting right in front of him.
Lost.
Alone.
And for the first time—
He spoke without holding back.
"Then don't try to be her."
Isha looked up, surprised.
"If you don't remember," he continued quietly, "then… maybe you can just be who you are now."
A long pause followed.
She blinked.
As if no one had said something like that to her before.
"Who I am now…" she repeated softly.
A faint, almost invisible smile touched her lips.
"That's the first thing that doesn't scare me.
Ren looked away, uncomfortable with the way something shifted inside him.
"By the way," she added after a moment, "you didn't tell me your name."
He hesitated.
Just for a second.
"Ren."
She nodded.
"Ren."
She repeated it like she was memorizing it.
Not from the past.
But from now.
And somehow—
That felt different.
"Will you… come again?" she asked, her voice softer this time.
The question caught him off guard.
No one had ever asked him that before.
He looked at her.
Really looked at her.
And for the first time—
He didn't feel invisible.
"…okay," he said.
Isha smiled.
Not because she remembered him.
But because she didn't.
And for Ren—
That was enough.
For now.