The days after James's breakdown in the café became a blur, a series of fragmented moments, each one more fragile than the last. Evelyn stayed close, always there, always watching. She was trying to balance the delicate dance of giving him space while also offering him the support he so clearly needed. It was a balancing act that often left her drained, both emotionally and physically, but she couldn't bring herself to pull away, no matter how heavy the burden seemed.
James, despite his illness, still had his pride. He tried to continue with life as normally as possible—showing up at the small bookstore he worked at, taking long walks when he could muster the strength. But Evelyn could see the toll his condition was taking on him. His face had grown thinner in the past few weeks, his skin a shade paler, the usual spark in his eyes fading with each passing day.
One evening, as the first snow of the season fell gently outside her window, Evelyn sat at her kitchen table, a cup of tea in her hands. The soft light from the lamp above flickered across the pages of the book she wasn't really reading. Her thoughts kept drifting back to James, to his quiet words that still echoed in her mind—I don't want you to watch me die. The weight of those words sat heavily on her chest, pressing down with a suffocating force that she couldn't seem to escape.
Her phone buzzed on the table, pulling her from her reverie. She glanced down, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the name on the screen: James.
Evelyn quickly answered. "James? Are you okay?"
There was a long pause on the other end, and for a moment, she thought the line had gone dead. Then his voice came through, rough and strained.
"I need to see you."
The request hung in the air like a plea, and she didn't hesitate.
"I'll be right there."
James was waiting for her when she arrived at his apartment. The light from the streetlamps cast long shadows across the small living room, the bare walls giving the place an empty, almost desolate feel. She stepped inside and immediately felt the difference. The warmth of his presence was still there, but there was something colder about the space now—something different in the way he held himself.
He was sitting on the edge of the couch, his hands folded in his lap, his posture hunched. His eyes were distant, lost in thought. He looked like someone who had spent too much time alone with their demons, and the weight of them had finally begun to break through the walls he had built around himself.
"James…" Evelyn said softly, stepping closer. She knelt in front of him, placing a hand on his knee. "What's going on?"
He didn't meet her gaze at first. His lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, his hand moved to his chest, rubbing over the area where his heart should be. "I feel like I'm running out of time," he murmured, barely audible. "And it's not just the illness, Evelyn. It's... everything."
Evelyn frowned, her heart aching for him. She had known something like this was coming, but hearing him voice it, hearing the desperation in his voice, made it real in a way it hadn't been before. The illness wasn't just a physical ailment for James; it was a psychological weight, something that gnawed at his very soul.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice gentle, coaxing him to open up.
He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking briefly to the floor before meeting hers. "I've spent so much of my life trying to shut everything out. The pain, the fear, the... the memories." He paused, a shadow passing over his face, darkening his eyes. "There are things I've never told you. Things I never wanted to."
Evelyn's hand tightened on his knee, a quiet signal for him to continue. She had sensed there was more to James's story, pieces of his past he kept hidden, but she hadn't expected it to be this difficult for him to speak of. She wasn't going to force him to open up, but she needed to know if he was ready to share what had been weighing on him all this time.
"I'm listening," she said softly, her heart pounding in anticipation.
James took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he ran them through his hair. His gaze drifted toward the window, the streetlights outside casting a dim glow on his face. His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke again, the words heavy, as though they had been trapped inside for years.
"I wasn't always this... this person you see now," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I used to be... different. When I was younger, I was reckless, selfish. I hurt people. People I loved."
Evelyn's chest tightened as she processed his words. She had known there was something buried deep within him, but she hadn't imagined it would be something so painful.
"James..." she started, but he shook his head, cutting her off.
"I wasn't always alone," he continued, his eyes distant as if he were reliving something he couldn't escape. "I had a family. A younger sister. But I lost them. My sister—she... she died in an accident. And I couldn't save her."
Evelyn felt a sharp pain in her chest as the weight of his words hit her. She had never imagined that James's past could be so tragic, so full of regret and loss. She reached out, her hand finding his, holding it gently, silently offering him the comfort he needed.
"I was there, Evelyn," he continued, his voice barely a whisper. "I was supposed to protect her, to look out for her. But I couldn't. I was too late. And I've carried that guilt with me every single day since. That's why I shut everyone out. Because I didn't want to hurt anyone again. I didn't want anyone else to see the person I became after that."
Tears welled in Evelyn's eyes as she listened, the pain in his words so raw, so visceral, that it left her breathless. She had always known there was more to James, but this—this was something she hadn't expected.
"James, you didn't deserve that," she whispered, squeezing his hand. "You're not the reason your sister died. It was an accident, and there was nothing you could have done."
He looked at her, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself. And now... now with the illness, with everything else, I feel like I'm running out of time. I don't want to die without telling you everything, without being honest with you."
Evelyn leaned forward, her forehead resting gently against his. She didn't know what to say, how to make him see that the guilt he carried wasn't his to bear. But she knew one thing for certain: she wasn't going to leave him. Not now. Not ever.
"You're not alone anymore," she said softly, her voice steady. "You don't have to carry all of this by yourself. I'm here. I'll always be here, James."
For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to close his eyes and let out a long, shuddering breath. The weight he had carried for so many years seemed to lighten, if only slightly, under the touch of her hand, under the gentleness of her words.
"I don't deserve you," he whispered, the words heavy with regret.
Evelyn gently cupped his face, tilting his head up so their eyes met. "Maybe not," she said with a soft smile. "But I'm here anyway."
And for the first time in a long while, James allowed himself to believe her.