Ming couldn't shake the unease that had settled in his chest. The dream, the girl, those two letters—everything seemed like a puzzle piece that didn't fit the life he was living now. His thoughts were distant, even as Xueyao continued her cheerful chatter during breakfast.
"You've been distracted lately," Xueyao said, eyeing him from across the table. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Ming looked up, blinking as he was pulled out of his reverie. "Yeah... I'm fine. Just... thinking."
Xueyao leaned forward, her gaze narrowing. "About what?"
Ming hesitated. The dream felt too strange, too personal to share. Especially with her. "Just work stuff," he lied, forcing a smile. "Nothing serious."
Xueyao didn't seem convinced, but she let it go. "Well, don't overthink it. You need to relax. Maybe we can go out tonight, have some fun."
"Yeah, maybe," Ming replied absentmindedly, his thoughts already drifting back to the girl in his dream.
As the day passed, Ming found himself more consumed by the mystery. He couldn't understand why the dream affected him so much. The letters H and A echoed in his mind, but no name seemed to match. And that kiss—it felt like a memory, not just a dream. Who was she?
By evening, Ming's restlessness reached its peak. He wandered through the house, pacing back and forth, his mind lost in thought. That's when it hit him. The moment of clarity was brief but sharp—a memory surfaced, unbidden and incomplete. A girl, laughing in the rain, her hair clinging to her face as she playfully ran from him. It wasn't Xueyao.
It was... someone else.
The fog in his mind grew thicker, but the memory was like a light cutting through the darkness. He stopped mid-step, gripping the back of a chair for support. "Who are you?" he whispered again, frustration building inside him.
At that moment, Xueyao walked in, a smile on her face as she approached him. "Hey, I was thinking, maybe we could go to that new restaurant downtown? It's supposed to have amazing views of the skyline."
Ming's heart was racing, his mind too consumed by the fragments of memories to focus on her words. He shook his head, trying to focus. "Xueyao, I... I think I need some space."
Xueyao froze, her eyes widening in surprise. "What? What do you mean?"
Ming turned to face her, struggling to find the right words. "I've been having these dreams... and memories. And they're not about you. I don't know what's happening, but I need to figure this out."
Xueyao's expression hardened. "Memories? Are you remembering someone else?"
"I don't know," Ming admitted, running a hand through his hair. "I don't remember her face, but I feel like... I feel like I loved her."
Xueyao's face paled, and for a moment, her confident facade cracked. But she quickly recovered, forcing a smile. "Ming, those are just dreams. They don't mean anything. You've been through a lot, and maybe your mind is just playing tricks on you."
Ming shook his head. "No, this feels real. These dreams... they're too vivid to be random. There's someone I'm forgetting."
Xueyao's grip tightened on his arm, her voice soft but firm. "You don't need to worry about the past, Ming. You have me now."
But the doubt in Ming's heart had already taken root. The dream girl, the letters, the kiss—everything felt too real. And Xueyao's presence, once comforting, now felt suffocating.
"I need to figure this out," he said quietly, pulling away from her grasp. "Please, just give me some time."
Xueyao's eyes flashed with frustration, but she nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Fine. Take your time. But remember, Ming—I'm the one who's here now. Not some girl from your dreams."
Ming nodded absentmindedly, but as Xueyao walked away, his thoughts were already somewhere else. Somewhere with the girl whose name started with H and ended with A. And for the first time in months, a flicker of hope stirred in his chest.
He was starting to remember.
---
That night, as Ming lay in bed, he couldn't stop replaying the memories in his head. The rain, the laughter, the kiss. His heart ached as if he had lost something precious, something he couldn't even fully recall.
As he closed his eyes, the girl appeared in his dreams again. This time, her figure was clearer, her presence stronger. She was standing in the same misty field, but now, she was closer, her hand reaching out to him.
Ming took a step forward, his hand trembling as he reached for hers. "Who are you?" he asked softly, his voice filled with longing.
The girl smiled, a sad but tender smile. "You already know," she whispered.
Ming's heart skipped a beat. "Hua..." he breathed.
And just like that, the fog lifted. Her face, once obscured, came into focus. Her eyes, her smile, her laugh—it all came rushing back to him. Hua.
Suddenly, Ming woke up, his heart pounding in his chest. "Hua," he whispered again, the name now clear in his mind.
It wasn't a dream. It was a memory.