“Hey how about this, if you can make it into a university in Singapore, I’ll treat you to a meal. Whatever you want, wherever you want.”
After sending this message, I took a look at the calendar on the table next to my bed.
“Not that I’ll last till then…” I thought.
I was born with a fragile body. One that could fall sick simply with a snap of the fingers. Thus, I spent most of my time undergoing treatment in the hospital, sometimes even staying there for weeks. I would just sit on the ward bed and browse the net for various story prompts to attempt. After I’m done, I would upload the stories I wrote onto the net for everyone to see. I liked the nice feeling I get when people comment positive things on those stories, saying I should keep going as I had talent. I would always link my email to these stories so people could message me about story ideas and ways to improve my writing, as writing was the only thing I could do besides studying.
One day, I saw a message in my inbox titled “Be Friends”. It was the first time I had received such a message, so I was a little excited. I asked for the person’s number and then we started texting each other. After texting for a while, I realised that the person who I was talking to was a girl, the same age as me, and that I have taken a liking to her outgoing personality, which was a direct opposite of my introverted personality. I kept talking to her, and I would even stay up late just to wait for a text message. Talking to her was like a drug, addictive yet soothing. We sent pictures of ourselves to each other, we talked to each other about anything and everything, from future ambitions to things that happened at school today. We even exchanged addresses, despite the fact that we are in different countries. However, I kept my condition a secret, as I did not want to ruin her image of me.
She opened up to me, saying that she might get addicted to talking to me and that she was scared of us getting bored of each other and no longer be willing to talk anymore. This made me both happy and sad, as I realised how great it felt to be appreciated in this world, but given my condition, I could disappear from her side anytime without warning, and I did not want that to happen. I want to keep talking to her. I want to become a shoulder for her to lean on whenever she felt sad or angry or whatever. I want to be by her side.
We started voice-calling each other, talking about life while enjoying each other’s presence. I really loved those late-night conversations we had, as I have gotten a little too used to listening to her voice just before going to bed. I repeatedly told her that I enjoyed talking to her, as I simply couldn’t emphasize this enough. Slowly, I had lost myself in this web of lies I have weaved as I just could not bear to tell her about my condition.
One day, while I was talking to her, I overheard a few nurses talking about my condition, which was getting more serious. They said I had around 4 more months to live. I was really shocked, 4 months could pass by in the blink of an eye. However, I worried about her more. How would she react if I told her this? How would she feel if I suddenly left without saying anything? Would she feel sad for me?
Later that night, she told me about her future, that she wanted to aim for a university in my country, Singapore, but was scared that she might not make it. I know I shouldn’t have done this, but I promised her that I would treat her to a meal if she actually made it in. It was wrong of me to do this in spite of my worsening condition. It has gotten so serious now that I couldn’t even go to school and had to stay bedridden in my ward everyday. Since the promise, I wasn’t able to sleep well, as I kept thinking about my actions.
A few days later, the doctor came into my ward and informed me that there is a chance of me being cured. I had to undergo an operation, which, despite the low success rate of 40%, could also have a 60% chance to cause memory loss. I agreed to it on the spot, only telling my parents about it afterwards. Now, I only need to tell her.
“Hey, you there? We need to talk.”
Instantly, she gave me a call.
I told her everything. Everything about my fragile body, my illness, and finally about the operation. I could hear her sobbing at the other end, but I decided not to ask. Then, I asked her what she would do if I had lost my memories.”
“I would make you fall in love with me, the same way I did with you. I will come to Singapore for my university studies, I will find you, I will love you. You name it, I’ll do it.”
“Yes,” I said, with tears welling up in my eyes.
A few months later, I heard the doorbell ring. Opening the door, a seemingly-familiar face greeted me, with the letter of acceptance for a Singaporean university in her hands.
“Who are you?”
Without saying a word, she stepped up to give me a kiss on my lips. Shocked, I stumbled backwards, still confused by whatever had just happened. However, I could feel a tiny fragment of my memory returning back to me. I invited her into the house, and asked for answers, if she was the one I had been talking to, the person who found me on the internet, if she was the person who I had a long chat history with, the chat I spent nights reading through in hopes of remembering something, and if she was the person whom I had promised a meal if she managed to study at a Singaporean university. After answering all my questions, she knelt down in front of me, and with a bouquet of flowers in her hand, she said,
“I have promised your past self many things, that I will make it to a Singaporean university, that I will find you after your operation, and that I will make you fall in love with me like how you made me fall in love with you. Would you allow me to fulfil the last promise with you?
Author Notes: I wrote this story for my friend, and I thought I might as well post this here.