Pauline's POV
The water jug pressed into my palms as I walked toward home, creating that familiar dull ache in my forearms. This routine had strengthened me over time, yet tonight the weight seemed unbearable. Perhaps it was because my mind had been spinning in circles all day, or maybe because Logan's face kept flashing behind my eyelids every time I blinked.
There he stood, exactly where I dreaded he would be. His broad shoulders sagged with exhaustion, his white shirt clinging to his back with sweat, construction dust coating him like a second skin from his work at the medical facility renovation. Fatigue etched lines around his eyes, golden hair plastered to his damp forehead. Yet the instant he spotted me, he stepped forward and lifted the jug from my grip.
"I can manage it myself," I snapped, shooting him a withering glare.
"I know you can," he said quietly. "But I want to help you anyway."
