"Mai, tea!" my husband called through to me at around 10am. I could barely suppress a smile. I made him his tea and carefully carried it through. He looked up when I entered and frowned at me.

"I bought you your tea," I said softly and put it down on his desk with a smile. I glanced at what he was doing. It looked like he was planning a trip, there was a map and pencil drawn crosses on a few lakes.

I looked into his eyes and my smile faltered slightly.

"Who are you?" he asked slowly. "You look like… Like you could be Mai's mother."

Today was not going to be a good day.

I swallowed.

"I'm Mai," I said as I looked him straight in the eye.

"But you look so old," he said tactlessly. His frown had not disappeared.

"It happens to all of us," I said.

"This is not funny," he replied sharply and then raised his voice. "Mai! Mai! Get in here!" He was shouting towards his office door. I watched him and tried to hold back tears. When no one replied, he tried something else. "Lin!"

"Lin isn't here," I said with a slight shake of my head.

"Where is he?" he demanded.

"Probably at home with Madoka."

"But its Monday," he said, pointing at the calendar on his desk. "He should be at work."

"He retired when you did," I reminded him gently.

"What are you talking about?"

He looked angry. His brows were furrowed and his fists clenched. I watched him storm passed me and stop in the doorway, looking out at the interior beyond.

"Where is the office?"

"This is our home," I told him. "Someone else rents the office now."

I could see the confusion darting across his face. He stalked around the house where we had lived together for years, taking in his surroundings as if he'd never seen them before.

I watched him take in the photos on the mantelpiece.

"Who are these people?"

"Our children," I replied softly.

"I don't have any children."

I didn't bother to correct him. There wasn't much point if he didn't remember.

"This is Mai!" He picked up the picture from our wedding. "Where is she? Why is she dressed like…?"

He dropped the photograph and rounded on me.

"Did Yasuhara put you up to this? This is the sort of hare-brained scheme he would come up with. Who are you?"

"I'm Mai," I said again, knowing that telling him my surname would only confuse him further.

"This is ridiculous. Stop pretending. Stop this façade. Where is Lin? We should be…" he trailed off and his face contorted. "I was..." I didn't push him, but let him come to his own conclusion. "Where is Gene?"

He looked up at me in horror.

"He's not here anymore," I told him quietly.

"Why can't I hear him?"

This was always the worst part. Some days, he was the brilliant young man I fell in love with; the arrogant, intelligent, tea-loving jerk. But lately, lately he wasn't so much.

I could tell by his face that he was screaming inside his head, trying to contact his twin who had been gone for decades.

"He's gone," I said. I wanted so much to comfort him, but knew that physical contact wasn't a good idea right now.

At least I no longer that to worry that he would blow up the house with his PK ability. Its power had diminished with his brain. Had his former self known this, I'm sure he would have loved to have studied it, I thought bitterly.

I watched him storm around the house as if searching for something. I followed until he found a mirror. He studied his aged reflection with a look of concern.

He never lost his hair, but it was almost white now. His face was heavily lined, but still handsome. But he'd always be handsome to me.

"Mai?" he whispered.

"Yes?"

He turned away from the mirror to look at me.

"Gene is dead, isn't he?"

I nodded slowly.

"Yes."

The doctor's told me when he was diagnosed that he might undergo some changes in personality. He had jested then that everyone would like him better if he did. The doctor's had encouraged us to use humour.

But right now, I hated the change.

The Oliver Davis I fell in love with would never break down like he was now.

He sank to the floor and cried for his long dead twin and finally I knew it was safe to touch him.

It always seemed to be the thought of Gene that brought him back.

As I wrapped an arm around my husband's shoulders, I did my best not to cry. I needed to be strong for him, no matter how tired I was.

I can remember every happy moment in my life.

I can remember laughing on cases, the first time he smiled at me, when he returned from England, when he proposed; when I found out I was pregnant and so on…

No one really considers certain aspects of being an orphan, especially after they have been adopted. Once adopted, they have a family and everything is okay.

But it's not.

And you never know whether today is going to be a good day or not.

Perhaps if we'd known there was a family history of the disease, we would've taken note of the signs sooner. We could've started treatment earlier…

When he woke, I thought today might be a good one. He washed himself and dressed and remembered his pills. He didn't kiss me good morning, but that wasn't too unusual. He hid in his little home office surrounded by his books and I guessed he was working. Even after officially retiring, he continued his work.

I never stopped him from doing it, it made him happy. And I guess I hoped it would help.

My husband has dementia. I lose pieces of him every day. But I will love him, for better or for worse.

Author's note: My Nana was adopted and so they didn't know she had a family history of Dementia. She has it now and was the inspiration for this piece. I still can't decide what is scarier: having Dementia or losing someone you love to it?

I'm sorry for any tears, but please review.