One of the nurses, an older, grizzly-looking fellow named Wyatt, promptly escorted me away from Zac's room and out of the patient's wing. Despite Wyatt's best efforts to send me on my way, I refused to leave the premises. I insisted instead on staying in the lobby to wait for Zac's mother. I intended to charm the woman's socks off and convince her to let me tag along when she went to go see her son. I even stopped by the gift shop to purchase a dozen balloons, a small brown teddy bear, a bouquet of flowers, and a "Get Well Soon" card to lend some credibility to my narrative.

There was only one small hiccup to my plan.

I'd never met Zac's mother in person before. To overcome this minor hitch, I positioned myself near the front desk of the lobby so I could eavesdrop on all visitors who were checking in with the receptionist, keeping a sharp eye and ear out for a middle-aged woman asking to see Zachary Mazur.

A few hours later, I spotted a slender, brown-eyed brunette in her forties barge through the automatic doors. Shadows and traces of Zac's features were etched all over her face. The shape of their eyes, the curve on their lips, and even their bone structure were similar enough to convince me that she was the mother of the boy I loved.

The woman's expression was bowed with stress as her four-inch Louboutins clicked frantically across the tiled floor of the hospital. I overheard her introduce herself as "Valerie Pietersen" and assumed that "Pietersen" was either her maiden name or her new husband's last name.

She spoke to the young blonde receptionist in hurried, impatient tones, "I'm here to see my son, Zachary Mazur. He was admitted here after a hit and run accident this morning. Can you tell me which room he's staying in?"

Once Ms. Pietersen was done signing in, I scurried over to her with all of Zac's gift shop goodies in tow. In the sweetest, friendliest voice I could muster, I approached the woman as though she was the Queen of England and I—her greatest fan.

"Good evening, Ms. Pietersen. My name is Cate Donati. So sorry to bother you, but I'm one of Zac's friends from school. All of us were devastated when we heard about his accident this morning, and I came here on behalf of everyone from Ashton Wellesley to wish him a speedy recovery."

I purposely kept my relationship with Zac a secret since I wasn't sure how much he had told his mother about us dating yet. I also remembered him mentioning once that his mother harbored a grudge against everyone from Ashton Wellesley due to the way they treated Zac back in middle school. I hoped my plan wouldn't backfire.

Mrs. Pietersen's eyebrows lifted at the sight of all the gift shop goodies in my arms. She sniffed in annoyance. "I appreciate the gesture, I really do, but neither Zachary nor I require well wishes from a second-rate institution like Ashton Wellesley."

I winced inwardly. Apparently, the woman's grudge ran deep as ever. Without another word, Zac's mother brushed past me. She was headed for the elevator that led up to the patient's wing.

I set my jaw and trailed after her. I wasn't about to give up that easily. "Please give me another chance, Ms. Pietersen! I completely understand why you might feel uncomfortable. I hate it at Ashton Wellesley as well. In fact, Zac and I knew each other back in middle school, and I—"

She halted in mid-stride and turned back around to face me. "Wait a minute, did you say that your name was Cate Donati, as in, Caterina Donati?"

I fidgeted a little under her scrutiny.

Had Zac told her that we were dating?

"Yes?"

Her eyes softened. They were a darker shade of brown than Zac's golden amber hue. "Ah, yes, I remember you. Zachary used to ramble on about you all the time. You were one of the few good ones from Ashton Wellesley. Thank you for looking out for my son."

Guess Zac hadn't said shit to her about us. It appeared his mother only knew me as her son's old classmate who he maybe had a crush on. I felt bummed about this for some reason, but I forced an appropriate response from my lips, "I-I wish I could've done more for him, to be honest."

"Why don't you come up with me to say a quick 'hello?' I'm sure Zachary would be thrilled to see you."

I smiled weakly, and, with far more cheer than I felt, I exclaimed, "Oh, I'd love that so much! Thank you, Ms. Pietersen."

***

Over the next three days, Ms. Pietersen allowed me to visit Zac after school.

I told Zac's mother that I needed extra volunteer hours to convince her to let me keep coming back. I don't know if she bought into my phony "good samaritan" act, but she seemed to appreciate my help more than she wanted to shoo me away. I spent most of my time running errands for them like buying takeout for dinner, picking up extra cases of water, and so on. Ms. Pietersen even sent me back to Zac's studio to grab him a week's worth of clean clothes. I took this opportunity to swipe the silver lockbox and flash drive from Zac's apartment so I could return them to the file cabinet in my dad's townhouse.

During this time, Zac's tests results started to come back as well. Dr. Zhang diagnosed him with post-traumatic retrograde amnesia, which had been caused by the concussions from his car accident. Zac's tests showed that he seemed to remember everything quite well up until his return to Wellesley this semester. She then stated that, in time, it might be possible for him to regain his memories. However, Dr. Zhang advised us against overwhelming Zac with too much too soon. We were supposed to keep him away from strong emotional triggers tied to the past and avoid filling in the gaps for him until the swelling in his brain went down some more.

What precious little time I had left to spend in Zac's company felt like agony and bliss all rolled into one. As expected, Zac's only recollection of me was from our time together in middle school, so I had to pretend as though we were mere acquaintances even though every fiber of my being yearned to tuck him into my arms and kiss away all of his pain.

I sometimes noticed Zac ogling me in wonderment when he thought I wasn't paying attention. My man stared as though he couldn't believe that I, Caterina Donati, the girl he had not-so-secretly liked for years, was actually visiting him on the daily while he was in the hospital. Instead of filling me with pleasure, however, his faint, fluttering interest left a giant gaping hole in my heart because I knew what it felt like to be wholly, completely, utterly loved by Zachary Mazur, and this measly trickle of admiration, was hardly enough to satisfy my greedy, love-starved soul.

To make matters worse, I learned that Zac's mother intended to bring Zac back to New York the moment Dr. Zhang gave him the go ahead to travel. I'd be lying if I said that I was going to be fine once he went away. There were moments when all I wanted to do was to scream and shout and sing our story to Zac, so he would at least know how much he meant to me, and how much I once meant to him. This way, our parting wouldn't feel so resolute, so final, so much like a death sentence.

Each time, though, I held myself in check because I didn't want to do anything that might impede Zac's recovery. I endeavored to be strong and do whatever it would take to help my man heal his mind, body, and soul.

Naturally, these sacrifices came with a price. I already sensed that my heart was going to crumble into an infinite collage of irreparable pieces the moment he left me. People say it's not possible to die from a broken heart, but, for me, it felt as though Zac's heart and mine had been forged from the same distant star. We shined brighter together. Our hearts beat fuller in each other's company. Without my other half, I probably wouldn't die, but I didn't know how I could live, like, really live in the most absolute way a person was capable of thriving.

For now, though, I was willing to grit my teeth and smile through the pain. Even if it meant that Zac might never learn about the beautiful, shining, star-dusted moments that we'd shared over these past few tumultuous months.

God, what if his memories never came back?

What... then?

My soul wept. It was supposed to be us against the world, but now this promise we had made to each other felt as fragile and embittered as my heart.