Khun Neung's voice echoed through the airwaves that fateful night, her confession of love carried on the breeze, hoping to reach the ears of the woman she loved. But Aneung wasn't listening. She had packed her bags, leaving behind the bustling streets of Thailand for a distant place where she could escape the memories that haunted her.
Khun Neung waited, her heart pounding, expecting any moment to hear Aneung's voice after calling the station or to see her walk through her bedroom door. But neither happened. Days turned into weeks, and soon, the vibrant spark in Khun Neung's eyes began to dim.
Sam, her younger sister, watched with growing concern as her once lively and spirited sister began to fade. The late nights, the endless waiting, and the emptiness in the house weighed heavily on Khun Neung, pulling her into a spiral of despair. Sam decided it was time to intervene.
"We need to see a doctor, Khun Neung," Sam insisted one morning, finding her sister staring blankly out the window. "This isn't just about Aneung anymore. You're not well."
Khun Neung turned to face her sister, her expression one of resignation. She knew Sam was right, but a part of her didn't care anymore. Without Aneung, nothing seemed to matter. But the look in Sam's eyes, a mix of determination and love, made her nod in agreement.
At the hospital, the tests began. Blood tests, scans, and endless questions from doctors left Khun Neung feeling like she was on autopilot. Sam stayed by her side, holding her hand, offering quiet words of encouragement as they navigated through the sterile halls of the medical center.
Days later, they found themselves back in the general practitioner's office. The doctor, a man in his mid-fifties with graying hair and kind eyes, looked somber as he reviewed the results.
"There's something concerning," he said gently, glancing between the sisters. "We've found a mass in your brain, Khun Neung. I recommend seeing a neurologist for further examination."
Sam's grip tightened on her sister's hand, fear flashing in her eyes. Khun Neung remained quiet, her thoughts a swirling mess. They left the office in silence, the weight of the news settling heavily on their shoulders.
The neurologist confirmed their worst fears. The mass was a glioblastoma, an aggressive brain tumor known for its rapid growth and devastating effects. More tests were ordered to assess the severity, but the prognosis was grim.
Within weeks, Khun Neung underwent surgery to remove as much of the tumor as possible. But the operation was only partially successful. The surgeon could only remove half of the tumor, leaving the rest nestled deep within the delicate tissues of her brain.
Radiation and chemotherapy followed, each session taking a toll on Khun Neung's body and spirit. The side effects were brutal, leaving her weak and disoriented. But the most crushing blow came when the doctors informed them that the tumor had not shrunk. Instead, it had grown.
Sam's desperation grew alongside the tumor. She pleaded with the doctors, asking if there was anything else they could do. The neurologist mentioned experimental treatments, including tumor treating fields, but warned that they were still in the early stages of development and carried no guarantees.
Khun Neung listened quietly, her mind already made up. She turned to the doctor, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.
"What happens if I don't get more treatment?" she asked, shocking her sister.
The neurologist hesitated before responding, "The tumor might continue to grow, causing more side effects, including memory loss. Eventually, you may lose your ability to remember... anything."
Sam's eyes filled with tears. "Khun Neung, you can't be serious. You have to fight this. We'll find a way."
Khun Neung smiled faintly, reaching out to cup her sister's cheek. "Tuo lek, I've already made my decision. I want to be with Aneung while I still can, while I still remember her."
"But what's the point if you're not healthy?" Sam's voice wavered. "You're not going to be yourself with this tumor still there."
Khun Neung sighed, looking out the window. "I just want to be with her, Sam. I want to hold on to the memories while I still can, even if it's just for a little while longer."
The days following their conversation were a blur of emotion and preparation. Khun Neung gathered her strength, determined to find Aneung and make things right before it was too late. Sam, though reluctant, supported her sister's decision, knowing that time was running out.
Finally, the day arrived. Khun Neung stood outside Aneung's door, her heart pounding in her chest. She knocked, and when the door opened, she was met with the sight of the woman she loved. Aneung looked surprised, her expression guarded.
"I came to get you back," Khun Neung said softly, her voice full of longing.
Aneung frowned, crossing her arms. "Are you nuts or something?"
"No, I—"
Aneung cut her off, frustration evident in her tone. "We talked about this yesterday. Don't you remember that you said you would give me some time?"
Khun Neung blinked, the memory slipping through her fingers like sand. "I... I just thought one day was enough, but don't worry, I'll give you a couple of days to think about it. I... I gotta go."
She turned and left, her heart heavy with the realization that she had forgotten their conversation. The drive home was a blur, her thoughts scattered and confused. Once she was back at the hotel, she went straight to her laptop, searching for the vlog she had recorded the night before.
"Today is Tuesday, July 2nd, 2024," her recorded voice said, her image filling the screen. "My name is Neung, for some Mhom Luang Sipakorn. I have a malignant glioblastoma which is causing short- and long-term memory loss. This message is for future Neung. We talked with Aneung today. She said she needed some time to think first because of how hurt she was with our breakup. If you also don't remember why we broke up—"
Khun Neung paused the video, her hand trembling. "Damn it! I knew that extra alarm this morning meant something. I forgot to check last night's vlog."
Sam entered the room, placing her hands on her sister's shoulders. "Don't worry about it. We will stay here as long as it takes until you two get back together."
Khun Neung nodded reluctantly. "Do you want to try seeing the neuro here about the experimental treatments?"
"No, tuo lek. I already told you I'm not doing any more treatments."
Sam rolled her eyes, frustration evident. "Of course, you remember that clearly. Aneung will realize eventually that you're not the same woman she fell in love with."
Khun Neung sighed, her gaze distant. "I just... I want to be with her while I still remember her."
The sisters sat in silence, the weight of Khun Neung's decision settling between them. The road ahead was uncertain, filled with challenges and heartache. But in that moment, all Khun Neung cared about was finding her way back to Aneung, to the love they once shared.
And so, with determination in her heart and the support of her sister, Khun Neung prepared to fight her last battle—not against the tumor, but for the love that gave her a reason to keep going.
