Evelyn had learned to love the rhythm of life in Maple Grove, the way the days unfolded lazily like the pages of a worn novel. The air was always crisp, and the town was slow to change, a quiet place where it felt as though time held its breath. But the more she immersed herself in the quiet, the more she realized there were things about Maple Grove—and about James—that were far from still.
It had been almost a month since her first real conversation with him by the river. Since then, their encounters had become more frequent. They'd gone for long walks through the forest, exchanged books at the local library, and shared coffee in the bakery as the autumn leaves outside painted the windows in rich shades of gold and amber. Every time they met, there was a quiet ease between them, a connection that grew stronger each day, even though she could sense that James was still holding something back.
He had been distant lately, more so than usual. Their conversations, once open and effortless, were now laced with pauses, as if he were trying to measure every word. Evelyn had started to wonder if he regretted becoming so close. Maybe she had overstepped. But she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more going on with him than he was letting on.
It was late afternoon one Saturday when she ran into him again. This time, it wasn't a chance meeting on the streets of the town. She'd been walking down the path near the river, when she spotted James sitting on the bench they'd visited together weeks ago. His shoulders were hunched, his head down, eyes focused on something she couldn't see.
As she approached, he didn't notice her at first. Evelyn hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to disturb the silence that seemed to hang so heavily around him. But she knew she couldn't keep avoiding him. Not when the distance between them was growing with every passing day.
"James?" she called softly, stepping closer.
He looked up, startled, his eyes wide as if he hadn't expected anyone. A faint smile appeared on his lips, but it was thin, as if he were trying to convince himself more than her that everything was fine.
"Oh, Evelyn. Didn't see you there," he said, his voice a little too quick, too rehearsed.
Evelyn sat down beside him, not saying anything at first. She could feel the tension between them, the crackling energy of something unsaid. The wind rustled the leaves around them, filling the space with a soft, steady rhythm.
For a long moment, they both just watched the river. Evelyn tried to decide how to approach the conversation without pushing him too hard, but the silence was too thick, too loaded for her to remain quiet any longer.
"You've been distant lately," she said gently. "I... I don't want to pry, but if something's bothering you, you can talk about it. I'm here."
James's hand clenched around the edge of the bench, his knuckles turning white. He seemed to fight with himself for a few moments, then finally spoke, his voice quieter than usual.
"It's not that simple, Evelyn," he said, his eyes still fixed on the water. "There are things... things I can't talk about. Not yet."
Her heart tightened. There was that familiar barrier again, that invisible wall that kept her from fully reaching him.
"You don't have to tell me everything all at once," she said softly. "But I want you to know that I care. I want to be here for you."
For the first time in weeks, James looked at her fully. His eyes searched hers, as if he were trying to find something in her expression that might give him the courage to open up. For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of the river and the rustling trees.
Finally, he sighed, a deep, heavy exhale that seemed to release a part of the weight he'd been carrying. "I know you do," he said quietly. "It's just… it's hard for me to let anyone in. I've been carrying this weight for so long, and I don't want to drag anyone else into it."
Evelyn didn't know what to say. The words she had been rehearsing in her mind felt suddenly inadequate. Instead, she reached out, placing her hand lightly on his arm. The simple gesture felt almost too intimate, but she needed him to know she wasn't going anywhere.
"You don't have to carry it alone," she said softly.
James's eyes flickered to her hand, then back to the river, his jaw tightening. It was as if he was fighting with something inside himself, the urge to stay closed off battling with the longing to share. But after a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.
"There's no easy way to say this," he started, his eyes never leaving the water. "I've been sick. For a long time."
Evelyn froze, her heart skipping a beat. She felt the world narrow around her, as if the entire town, the rustling trees, the soft breeze, all faded into the background, leaving just the two of them.
"You're sick?" she echoed, her voice thick with disbelief.
James nodded, his gaze still distant. "It's... it's something I've been dealing with for years. I've kept it hidden, even from most people here. But it's getting worse."
The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. She tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come.
"I'm not going to get better," James continued, his voice steady but tinged with sorrow. "The doctors have told me there's not much they can do anymore. It's just a matter of time."
Evelyn felt the ground shift beneath her feet. She had suspected something, the way James carried himself, the quiet sadness that lingered in his eyes. But hearing it out loud, hearing the raw truth of his illness—it shattered her.
"I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want anyone to feel sorry for me," he said, his eyes finally meeting hers. "But I think you deserve to know."
Tears welled up in Evelyn's eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. She wanted to say something, anything to ease his pain, but the lump in her throat made it impossible.
Instead, she simply nodded, her hand tightening on his arm, offering him a steady presence that she hoped might offer some comfort in return.
"I'm here," she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. "For whatever you need. You're not alone, James. I'm not going anywhere."
He looked at her, his expression softening, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. For the first time, he seemed to allow himself to be vulnerable, his guard finally lowering, if only slightly.
"I don't know what I would do without you," he admitted, his voice raw. "I didn't want to get too close, but... I think I'm already too far in."
Evelyn reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to do this alone. Not if you don't want to."
They sat there for a long while, the evening slipping into night. The air was colder now, the river darkening beneath them, but they didn't move. Evelyn didn't know how much time had passed, only that the weight of silence between them had shifted. She didn't have the answers, but she knew this: she wouldn't let James face this alone.
And for the first time since their paths had crossed, she felt like maybe—just maybe—she was beginning to understand him.