The days had begun to blur together for Loraine, each one tinged with the quiet awareness that Jason's presence lingered at the edges of her life. Even when he was not physically there, she felt his gaze in the market stalls, along the narrow streets, in the quiet moments when she brought her mother tea or tucked a blanket around her frail shoulders.
She hated it. And yet, she could not stop thinking of him.
A Market Encounter
It was late morning when Loraine walked through the bustling market, carrying her basket carefully. The sun pressed down on her back, and the chatter of vendors made her feel smaller than usual.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a familiar figure leaning against a stall, his hands in the pockets of his coat, observing her with quiet attention.
"Loraine," he said, his voice soft, warm, but carrying that unshakable confidence. "You seem… distracted today. Did something happen?"
"I… I'm fine," she said quickly, though she felt her chest tighten.
Jason stepped closer, his gaze calm but intense. "You don't need to pretend with me. I can see it in your eyes—you worry for her." He gestured subtly toward her mother's medicine in the basket.
Loraine blinked, startled. "How… how do you know?"
"You'll see when it's time," he said, his voice calm and deliberate. "Some truths reveal themselves slowly. Patience."
Her fingers tightened around the basket, frustration rising. "Why me? Why do you care so much about my mother?"
"Because you care," he said simply, almost as if it were obvious. "And someone who cares like you deserves help. Don't you want to believe that?"
She hesitated. The words tugged at her heart in ways she did not want to admit.
At Her Home
Later that afternoon, Jason appeared quietly in her courtyard as she set down the basket from the market.
"Jason…" she said, surprised and uneasy. "You—how do you—"
"I was near," he said, smiling faintly. "I thought I'd see if she was resting well." He nodded toward her mother's small room. "She looks tired. You look tired too."
"I… I'm fine," Loraine said quickly, though fatigue and worry made her voice falter.
"You don't have to be," he said gently. "You've carried so much for her, Loraine. It's okay to let someone share the burden."
She wanted to protest, but all she could do was look at him. His calm certainty made her heart race, even as a small part of her mind warned her to be careful.
Growing Questions
That evening, as Loraine sat beside her mother, brushing the thin strands of hair back from her forehead, she found herself thinking of Jason more than she wanted. Each small gesture, each quiet smile, each word of reassurance tugged at her.
She hated that she thought of him. She hated that she waited, almost unconsciously, for his arrival.
But she could not deny the questions forming in her mind:
Where does he go when he leaves?
What is it about her that draws him so persistently?
Why does he insist she trusts him without giving answers?
And the most frightening question of all:
Why does she feel like she needs him?