"Richard," she whispered, as if saying his name would bring him closer. Her hand, delicate and shaking, reached out across the light between them. "You came back."
Liam's smile was soft. Not just gentle—soft like memory, like a photograph that's been touched too many times. He moved toward her slowly, like he didn't want to disturb the orbit of her world.
"Of course I did," he murmured, kneeling beside her. "I promised, didn't I?"
I hovered in the doorway, a bystander in someone else's galaxy.
"I thought maybe you'd gotten lost again," she said. "You always traveled so far. You loved the stars too much to stay grounded."
He laughed—just barely. "I did. But I always knew I'd find my way back to you."
She beamed. Then, as if sensing me out of the corner of her fading memory, she turned. "And who's this beautiful girl?"
Liam glanced back at me, almost embarrassed. "This is June. A friend."
She blinked, considering. "Like the month?"
I stepped forward. "Exactly."
"Lovely," she said, with an air of certainty. "she looks beautiful."
"I think she does," Liam said softly, brushing a loose wisp of hair from his mother's temple. " and she's kind."
She nodded, satisfied. "Bring her around again."
"I will." He kissed her knuckles like she was royalty. "But now, I think it's time you rest your starlit mind."
She sighed, already sinking into sleep. "You'll be here when I wake up?"
"Always."
He tucked the blanket gently around her shoulders, like gravity was something he could protect her from. Then he leaned in, kissed her forehead like a vow, and stood.
We walked out in silence, not toward the exit but into a quiet side room. Liam dropped onto one of the worn-out couches and exhaled like he'd been holding his breath for years.
"She's had Alzheimer's for more than a decade," he said, staring at nothing. "At first, it was small things. Time slipping sideways. Her world shrinking. Then faces. Names. Me."
He rubbed at his face with both hands. "Now she thinks I'm him. My father. Richard. He died before I was born—military mission overseas. My mom never let go of him. Not once. It was like... like her heart decided to keep orbiting a star that had already gone dark."
"That's not just love," I whispered. "That's... something more."
"Devotion," he murmured. "Or madness. The lines blur after a while."
He didn't look at me when he said it. His eyes were fixed ahead,on something I couldn't see. Or maybe something he could no longer reach.
"She was a nurse here. Helped families say goodbye, held hands through grief. And now..."
His voice cracked.
"...now she's the one disappearing."
My chest tightened. "And you let her believe it. That you're him."
"I used to tell her the truth," he said. "Every time. And every time, I watched the light vanish from her eyes. Like the world ended again and again. And she had to bury him all over."
He paused, drawing in a breath like it hurt.
"So I stopped. I stopped taking him away from her. I figured...sometimes peace is a kinder thing than truth."
