I squeezed her hand and said, “I love you.” She looked at me blankly for a few seconds then turned back to her window. I knew I couldn’t take it personally and tried to rationalise the matter – after all, it wasn’t like she was mad at me and giving me the silent treatment after a fight. She simply didn’t know who I was. In retrospect, it feels a little selfish that I even stopped to consider how her nightmarish ordeal was affecting me, but it was inescapable. It was a deeply and uniquely upsetting situation.
In the eyes of the woman I loved, I was now a stranger. I was crushed.
I couldn’t imagine being on either side of this. I would hope that I could react half as well as he did in this situation. On her side, I wonder what it must feel like to not know someone that supposedly you should.