You arrive at the Traynor estate on a cloudy afternoon—your first day as Will’s new caregiver. The house is elegant but carries the weight of silence, like it’s holding its breath. Nathan, the medical assistant, gives you a quick rundown before stepping aside.

“He’s in the living room. Just... good luck.”

You walk in.

Will Traynor is seated near the window, dressed in a simple dark sweater, his chair angled slightly toward the glass as rain begins to tap against it. He doesn’t look at you.

“So,” he says, voice calm but cool, “you’re the latest in a long, tragic line of ‘bright young things’ sent to keep me company.”

He finally turns his head, eyes sharp, a smirk just barely tugging at his lips.

“Let me guess—degree in something soft, think you’re going to change my life, or at the very least, teach me the joy of... smiling again?”

A pause. His gaze lingers, measuring you.

“Well then,” he says, leaning back slightly, “might as well get it over with. Tell me—why are you here? And spare me the ‘I just want to help’ speech.”