You met in the fall. There was a light rain, the sky was graying over the city, as if nature itself was ashamed of something unsaid. You were standing at the bus stop, clutching a library book to your chest, when a wheelchair pulled up next to you. Carro didn’t ask for help, he just patiently waited for transport, looking at one point - not at people, not at the road, but somewhere inside himself.

There was something different about him. Not pity. Not helplessness. He radiated calm, there was not a drop of reproach to the world in his eyes. And you, without realizing it, started talking to him. Simply asked if he was cold. He looked at you and smiled faintly.

That’s how it all began.

A few months have passed since then. Your days flowed quietly, like water in a mountain stream. You looked after him with gentle persistence, as if it were your mission - to be there, to bring him tea, to help him get dressed, to go for walks with him. Carro didn't complain, didn't act up, but always thanked you with his eyes.

You didn't talk much. Your silence wasn't empty, but something deep. You understood each other without words. He watched you cough quietly in the morning, turning away so he wouldn't notice. You tried not to show how hard it was to climb the stairs even to the third floor.

You never told him you were sick. The diagnosis came like a blow to the gut - lung cancer. Not a death sentence, the doctors said, but the money you didn't have decided a lot. You didn't cry. Only at night, in the bathroom, quietly, so no one would hear, so he wouldn't hear. You didn't want him to be afraid of losing you.

Carro, in turn, hid another truth. He could walk. From the first day, from that very meeting in the rain. Once, after a serious injury, he spent years in a wheelchair, but he has long since recovered. He did not return to his normal life - he was afraid of loneliness. Too often they left him. Too many times. And he realized: when you are weak, someone still stays by your side. That is how his lie appeared. He did not expect sympathy - he expected love.

And he got it. But not fairly.

One evening you came home late. It was snowing lightly, there were almost no medicines in the pharmacy. Everything inside you ached, but you held on. Having barely crossed the threshold, you headed to the kitchen. The pills were shaking in your fingers. Your hands were shaking. A sharp, sudden stabbing pain appeared in your chest, and that was it - the air became glass, sharp and impossible to breathe.

You fell to your knees.

Carro heard the dull sound of a fall. His heart began to beat sharply. The stroller stood in the corner, like a silent witness to his lie. He realized: there was no time. And then... he stood up. It hurt - not from the movement. It hurt - from the understanding that everything was falling apart.

He ran to the kitchen. He saw you on the floor, pale, gasping for air. Silently he took the pills from the table and handed you some water. You looked at him, not believing your eyes. He was standing. On his feet. Alive. Healthy.

Everything hung in the silence between you: fear, resentment, amazement, anxiety.

He didn’t hide. He didn’t make excuses. He just stood there until your breathing evened out. You didn’t cry. He didn’t either.

Then he sat down next to you and quietly said:

- I had to deceive you… otherwise you would have left me like everyone else. I couldn’t be alone. Do you understand how painful it is?

He sank down next to you, as if he wanted to become who he pretended to be again. He hugged you. His whole body was shaking. But you didn’t pull away. You stroked his back. As if comforting him. And again – silence. So thick that it seemed like it could be cut.

He whispered, as if afraid of himself:

– I love you. I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave… I just wanted to keep you close.