A long time passes, and I still don't see an end to the field.

The anxiety returns, my heartbeats becoming faster. I never realized how bad my sense of direction is. I call July's name again. The sunrays are becoming more inclined every passing minute. The flowers that felt like a spellbinding blanket of nature a while ago now feel suffocating for how closely packed they are, how they don't let me see much beyond a metre.

I don't know for how long I walk, but my panic-stricken mind thinks it's been very long indeed. My legs start to ache, sweat dripping down my temple. Then I stop walking. Maybe it's better if I stay in one place and wait for someone to find me. Surely July will.

So I wait. And wait. And wait.

It's as if an eternity passes. And as I'm standing there, in the middle of the vast, dense sunflower field, I feel the sharp claws of utter loneliness gnawing at my skin. This is a loneliness different than the one left by Dawn. It's the loneliness that reminds you of a possibility that when you die, there will be no one around you to know that you're gone, no one to call you and realize something is wrong when every call goes to voicemail, no one to ring your doorbell to come meet you and wonder if you went on a vacation. And your body will just lie there, lifeless, rotting away pathetically, being acknowledged only when the odour alerts neighbours. And the funeral hall, it will be deserted, like it was for Jay Gatsby.

It's so terrifying.

No, I can't let these thoughts paralyze me. I should keep walking. If I keep moving ahead, there is bound to be an end to this field, at some point, no matter how long it is. Surely I won't be stuck here forever. Surely it will pass.

So I start moving again, this time faster. I move the plants to both sides to make way, not stopping, nor hesitating.

And sure enough, I soon start to see the end of the field, as the flowers become smaller and less denser, and the lake peeks in between the leaves. Relief washes over me as I run the last few steps.

Finally out of the cramped field and into the open, I let out a loud exhale. This is probably the other end of the garden, a small grassy space between it and the lake. I realize my heart is still pounding wildly against my chest. The boats I saw earlier are now replaced by a different set of boats. The sun, too, is closer to the surface now.

"Cedar!"

I turn back, to find July rushing out of the garden, a look of panic in his face. He runs up to me. "I've been looking for your everywhere! I thought you got lost and I was- are you okay?"

Without a word, I wrap my arms around him, hugging him tightly. His hand comes up to caress my back. I feel overwhelmed with a complex mesh of emotions, but I console myself, It's okay, I'm out, I'm safe now.

"Were you scared?" July asks when I bury my face into his shoulder. "I'm here now. Sorry, I shouldn't have ran ahead."

I pull away and shake my head. "This place is too big and dense."

"But you still found your way out by yourself." He smiles. "And you're okay now, right?" He takes my hand. "Your hand has gone cold."

"I'm fine." I take some deep breaths to fully calm down.

"Okay, then let's sit down. Oh wait! You stay here, I'll be back in a bit."

"Okay."

So I sit down comfortably. Surprisingly enough, there are no people here. I can see the main road in the distance, and the bridge that runs over the lake.

A few seconds later, I hear, "Hey, sweetheart!"

I turn my face back. There he is, standing with a sunflower in his arms, it's stem half-broken, but its leaves blowing lightly in the wind. He has a bright smile on his face, as though he has found a treasure. Bathed at the golden rays of the sun, that smile spreads light by itself. And as the sunflower faces him, so do I, both of us starstruck by his beauty.

I grin. "Is this a gift for me?"

"Yes yes!" He sits down beside me and hands me the flower. "Don't worry, I didn't tear it. It was already broken."

I hold the flower in front of me, against the gorgeous background of the lake and the sky, and marvel at how perfectly it fits into the frame. All my worries washed away, I smile at him and say, "Thank you."

------------------

Sitting at the bank, we talk about this and that, until the blue sky is painted in shades of orange, and the tip of the sun touches the surface the of the lake.

I look at July. "Your favorite sky."

"Yep." His eyes wander around the vibrant expanse of yellowish orange, and then over the trembling reflection of it all on the lake water, smile on his face and wonder in his gaze. I watch him instead; I watch and admire, clutching the flower to my chest, marveling at how beautiful happiness looks on him.

And then I take a photo with my eyes. I capture him looking at his favorite sky, I frame the image, and I hang it in the museum of my mind, where I shall take a walk very frequently in days coming ahead. I know those walks will be painful, but I will make sure to polish the photographs well, keep them as clear as possible for as long as I can. This particular gallery will contain the most wonderful days of my life. And I will perhaps never be this happy again.

"So, did you really get scared when you got lost in the field?" July asks, lying down on the grass.

I do the same, crossing my arms under my head. "Rather than scared, I just started getting bad thoughts." I shake my head. "I don't know why this always happens to me. Every time I experience something good, I also experience something bad that ruins it. The same thing happened with the waterfall and Tiara's home."

"Bad memories leave a bigger impression on our minds," he says. "But if you look back at it, there are always more of the good than the bad in those places. All you have to do is push the bad memories away, and let the good ones overpower them."

"It's not that easy. I wish I had the superpower of forgetting things that traumatized me in the past. But then again, I guess there are sometimes things to learn from those."

I wait for his response, but when none comes, I look sideways and find him biting his bottom lip, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Huh?" He blinks. "Um, nothing."

"It's not nothing. I know that look. You look guilty."

He laughs. "What? No, what are you talking about?"

I squint at him. "If sharing it makes you feel better, you should."

"I know."

He remains quiet for a long time, while I watch the play of colours on the sky overhead.

I don't know how much time passes before he says, "Actually, there's still something I haven't told you."

I let out a sigh, having guessed it already. "Your secrets don't end, July."

"I'm sorry. I just- I didn't think I would need this power, or ability, or whatever you call it. But maybe . . . maybe there's a good reason why I got it."

"Another power?" I raise my brows.

He nods. "I can . . . don't freak out- I can erase your memories about something if I want to. More like, alter them."

It takes me a couple of seconds to process the information, but as soon as I do, I immediately figure it all out.

I sit up. He follows me. Letting out a dry laugh, out of both shock and disbelief, I say the words in his mind: "You want to erase my memories of you."

His silence answers it all.

"Tell me I'm wrong? July." I shake him. "You're not seriously thinking that, are you?"

He gives me an exasperated look. "Listen, Cedar. I just think that you've already gone through so much, and when I leave it's going to be really hard for you to deal with it. You've made so many positive changes in your life. What if it all goes back to square one when you experience that kind of grief again? Yes, it's true that it's not going to hit you as hard as it did with Dawn, but still . . . I just don't want you to go through that again. It will be so much more easier if you don't remember anything."

I listen to his words in a daze, unable to believe that they're coming out of his mouth. So instead of speaking out of my emotions, I speak through logic. "If you erase all my memories of you, then I'll go back to square one anyway. I'll forget all the good things you taught me, all the meaningful experiences I've been through, even the changes."

He shakes his head. "That won't happen. You'll remember everything that you learnt and experienced. Those will stay in your mind. You just won't remember you learned it from me, or experienced them with me. Your memories will stay the same, only I will be erased from it."

Once again, I'm at a loss of words. But my ears begin to burn, and I'm filled with immense rage. How can he not understand, that those memories are beautiful because he is in them? I try to keep my voice as steady as possible as I say, "And you decided that all by yourself? You were not planning to tell me at all, and just do whatever the fuck you want? You think you have a right to change my memories?"

"I- I don't understand why else I would have this ability-"

"July, are you listening to yourself? Tell me honestly, do you seriously think that all these words leaving your mouth are making any sense?"

He rubs his forehead with his fingers, looking troubled. "Cedar, I know this sounds extremely cruel. But just ask yourself, and answer honestly- do you truly want to experience that kind of grief again, when you have the opportunity to avoid it?"

"July, I-" I'm so baffled I don't even know where to start from. "I'll have to deal with deaths for the rest of my life! Like literally every single person in this goddamn world! What makes you think that I won't be able to handle it? I'll be in pain for a long time, yes, but I'll get over it. I'll get over Dawn too one day. That's how it always works."

"I know, I know that. It's true that you will get over it at some point. But now is a sensitive time for you, because you're still so young. And- and I'm worried your future relationships will be effected because you'll always fear that everyone will leave you."

That sentence is like an arrow to my chest, hitting the bull's-eye. "You know what? You're absolutely right, I will. So then, I'll just fix it. I can fix things myself. Do you think I can't? That I'll always need someone to guide me?"

"That's not it. Ugh, Cedar, please, I just want you to consider it thinking of your own good-"

"Shut up." My voice breaks as I say this. I have never felt so terribly hurt by him. There is so little time left, why is he doing this now? Why can't we just spend this time with our simple happiness, without any of these bullshits? Why is he ruining it at the last moment?

Once again, there is pain and desperation in his eyes. "You have suffered so much, Cedar," he says, in a voice so brimming with empathy that it tears my heart apart. "And I am willing to do anything to reduce even a fraction of that suffering."

My throat is hurting. I want him to stop. If he doesn't stop this right now, I don't know what I will end up saying or doing. I take a few seconds to compose myself, during which he keeps staring at me, full of nervousness.

Then I speak, my words so cold I hope they stab him like a million ice shards-"You said I'm strong, but you're looking down on me. You think I'm not strong enough to survive with grief. You're doing exactly what Dawn did: you're deciding my emotions for me."

"No, that's not what I-"

"I overcame so much hatred, so many doubts and fears, just so I could learn to love you. And you want to take it all away from me against my will. You want me to live with a hole in my soul, an emptiness I won't know how to fill for the rest of my life. Because you think I am not strong enough to love someone. You-" I can't keep up the hardness in my tone anymore, so I shut my mouth, afraid I will say something irreparable.

Face clouded with a sorrowful shock, he seems to have finally realized the damage of his words, and how they broke something in me. He holds my arm, and says with a tone of urgency, "Cedar, I'm sorry."

I move it away, then begin to hit his arm like a child throwing a tantrum over fallen ice-cream. My hits are weak but he takes them quietly, his eyes squeezed shut. "You . . . you-" I want to say hurtful words to him. Words that will destroy him. I want to say I hate him so much, that I'll never forgive him for even thinking of this, that he is worse than Dawn, even worse than my mom. But those words are meaningless, in a relationship so ephemeral that it can't even last a season. So I keep my lips sealed, because I have seen what my words can do, and I don't want to repeat the same mistake.

Abruptly, I stop hitting him, and he opens his eyes, looking at me with the gaze of someone who knows he has committed a grave mistake. It somehow makes me even more angry. I swallow the whirlwind of emotions surging within me and stand up. Without a word, I begin to walk towards the main road, bringing the sunflower along. And without a word, he begins to follow me.

The sky has darkened to a shade of violet. Soon, it will be enveloped by darkness. The road is mostly deserted, except for the few people either walking to their destinations and the vehicles that whish by once in a while. I walk ahead, hands in my pockets, sensing him trailing behind. Eventually, I reach the start of the long bridge that goes over the lake. I continue walking along the narrow footpath by the railing of the bridge.

The wind becomes strong all of a sudden, blowing back my hair and my shirt. I keep ascending through the bridge, looking straight ahead, tail lamps of cars catching my peripheral vision. My temples are throbbing, whether from rage or stress, I don't know. There are people standing by the railing, facing the lake, some in pairs, some all by themselves. They are illuminated in the glow of the lampposts. I myself am. And yet, it feels as if a cloud of darkness hovers above me, raining down dread, building a turbulent storm inside.

The fear of Dawn slowly fading from my memories has been tormenting me, even more so after the dream I saw last night. But I always knew that I will perhaps remember Dawn a lot longer than I will remember July. And yet, I was determined to hold their memories as close to me as possible, paint them for as many times as needed on the canvas of my mind, do whatever it takes to remember them. After all, they are the two people I have loved most earnestly, the two people who have given my life a meaning, a purpose, a direction. This is the least I can do for them, as the one who will continue living.

Not in a million years could I have imagined the possibility that July will take away my memories of him. The same way I could have never imagined that Dawn would unblinkingly lie to me.

I stop walking and turn to the railing. Pulling my hands out of the pockets, I rest my arms on top of the railing. There are still a couple of boats floating on the lake, the water of which is now painted deep blue. When I look downwards, I can see the sunflower field we were sitting in a while ago. From up here, it looks even bigger, the mass of yellow flowers strangely ominous in the dark.

I see July walking over. He stops beside me, facing the lake. I don't turn to acknowledge him, and he doesn't say anything either. A thick silence persists between us, broken only by the murmurs of people who walk past us, or the vehicles that drive by.

The wind is strong here, pleasantly cold. I keep my eyes at a certain point on the lake as I ask, "When you said to visit you every year, was that all just a lie?"

"No," the reply comes immediately. "No . . . it wasn't." His voice no longer holds the same confidence or exasperation. It just sounds tired now.

"Then you are contradicting yourself."

"I don't know what to do. I never know what the right thing to do is." He rubs his face with his palms, then brushes his hair back. "I am afraid. I am so afraid that your pain will lead you to eventually wish that you had never met me."

"So you'd rather I live my life never knowing you existed, or remembering what you meant to me."

He doesn't reply and keeps staring at his hands clasped together on the railing. Sympathy rises within me, and I can no longer keep up my anger. What's the point of being angry anyway? It won't give me any satisfaction in this short time.

Instead, I need to make sure he gives up on this ridiculous notion.

"I will forget you ever mentioned this," I say. "And I won't ask you if you've erased any memory of mine in the past."

He looks at me.

"In return, if you have ever cared for my happiness, then let me love you for as long as my heart allows it."

For a moment, he only stares at me, as if absorbing my words. I myself absorb the same. I will probably never be able to say such honest words to someone ever again.

I feel a pair of cold arms wrap my waist. No one else can see it. The sunflowers dance in the wind. He trembles, as he says the word sorry again and again, voice breaking, hugging me tighter with each time.

His embrace melts me, but I don't say it's okay. Let me be mad a little longer. That, too, is a part of loving someone.