"Remember? The first time you made me a birthday cake, it was burnt to a crisp."
She said with a laugh, but tears kept streaming down her face.
By this point, I had become extremely weak, with my waking hours growing shorter each day.
My memory was also deteriorating.
I asked in confusion, "Did I ever bake you a cake?"
"You don't remember?"
She looked somewhat disappointed, "I told you it was the best cake I'd ever had, because you made it."
I coughed painfully and didn't say anything.
Because in my limited memory, everything related to her was slowly fading away.
As if a gentle breeze could scatter it all in an instant.
Leaving no trace behind.
She held my hand, "Tom, I'm sorry. I really know I was wrong."
I looked at her and said softly.
"Vivienne, I don't blame you anymore."
"Really?" She looked up in surprise.
"Yes."
I closed my eyes, "Because I no longer have the strength to hate."