🔷 requested by beyoncea28
At first, it was subtle. Little things slipped from her grasp, like the name of a favorite song or the location of her keys. Concerned, Night tried to reassure Ink that these lapses were mere slips of memory. But as time went on, her forgetfulness grew more pronounced and frequent.
Each day, Night tirelessly attempted to piece together the fragments of Ink's memory. He would recount their cherished memories together, hoping to trigger a spark that might rekindle her recollection. Countless photos were flipped through, notes were written, and even recordings of their conversations were kept. Night refused to let the memories fade.
Their child, was just a young girl, struggling to understand what was happening to her mother. She watched, bewildered as Ink's once bright and lively personality began to flicker, fading away piece by piece. Luna yearned for the warmth of her mother's love, desperately clinging to the fleeting moments when Ink's true self momentarily emerged.
Months passed and Ink's condition continued to deteriorate. She grew increasingly dependent on Night's unwavering support and patience. Night navigating the labyrinth of her lost memories, hoping to uncover even the tiniest shards of her former self.
Night became a master at fabricating stories, snippets of their past that he hoped would evoke emotions from Ink. He took her to places they had frequented and recounted tales of their adventures together. But the depths of Ink's memory loss were too profound, and her confusion only deepened.
As the weight of responsibility grew heavier, Night's own spirit began to fade. He felt helpless, desperate for a way to restore his beloved wife's memories. He sought advice from doctors, specialists, and scholars, but they all offered no solution - only words of comfort. The devastating truth was there was nothing he could do.
Days turned into months, and months blended into years. Ink's memory became a blank canvas where Night could only try to etch fragments of their past. Nevertheless, their bond remained strong. Ink may not remember the years they spent together, but their love was rooted deep in her heart.
Luna, being only seven years old, couldn't fully grasp what was happening to her mother. She often found her mother in a state of confusion, staring blankly at a canvas that was begging to be painted. Luna would hold Ink's hand and ask, "Mommy, what's wrong? Why don't you remember things anymore?" Night would always be there, trying his best to provide an explanation, but it was never enough to satisfy Luna's innocence.
Night felt Luna's tiny arms wrap around his leg, seeking solace in the warmth of her father's embrace. In that moment, he found a flicker of strength, a few remaining embers of hope. He knew he had to be there for Luna, to guide her through this bewildering journey and fill the void left by her mother's fading memories.
Although the days grew darker, Night and Luna held on to the fragments of their memories, cherishing each brushstroke of love they shared with Ink. They understood that sometimes, even the most vibrant colors fade away, but the essence of who they were would forever reside within their hearts. Together, Night and Luna found solace in art. They spent hours exploring various forms of creativity: painting, drawing, writing, and sculpting. These shared moments, where imagination and curiosity thrived, became a lifeline for their family.
