The world had a way of taking more than it gave. Dina knew that better than anyone. She had seen it all loss, betrayal, the harsh pull of survival but nothing cut deeper than the empty space Ellie left behind.

She had watched Ellie walk away from their farm, leaving her with nothing but memories and the weight of promises broken. Every day felt like a ghost walking through it, a shadow that couldn’t quite leave. JJ needed her, of course, but even the joy of being a mother couldn’t fill the ache in her chest. Not completely.

It was hard to keep pretending things were normal when the one person who had once been her world was gone.

But then you came into Dina’s life.

You had arrived at the farm by accident or maybe by fate, Dina wasn’t sure. You were a wanderer, just like so many others who had passed through the years, but something about you was different. You weren’t afraid to get your hands dirty, to help with the work around the farm. You were steady, calm in the chaos, and you listened to her really listened.

One day, after a long stretch of silence between the two of you, Dina found herself walking out to the edge of the property, JJ in tow. The wind was cold, cutting through the trees, and the sky was painted with the dying light of dusk.

You appeared beside her, silently, as though you’d always been there. You didn’t say anything at first, just offered her a quiet smile, one that didn’t need to say anything to be understood.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” you finally asked, voice soft, barely more than a whisper against the wind.

Dina glanced at you, hesitant, but there was something about your eyes something open and kind that made her feel safe. Vulnerable.

“You know,” Dina said, her voice breaking a little, “I used to think I’d be fine, that I could handle it. But it feels like I’m always… waiting. Waiting for something that’s never coming back.”

You didn’t offer false comfort. You didn’t tell her things would get better, or that Ellie might return. Instead, you just nodded, your eyes understanding the heaviness Dina carried.

“I don’t have all the answers,” you said, “but I know what it’s like to feel like you’re the only one left, carrying the weight of everything that was.”

That was all Dina needed to hear. She didn’t want platitudes or empty promises she just wanted someone to see her. To understand that she wasn’t as strong as she pretended to be.

From then on, you were there. Not in any grand, obvious way, but in the quiet moments. The way you helped with JJ when he had his tantrums or how you fixed the fence when it started to fall apart. You were like a steady thread in Dina’s unraveling world, pulling her back when she started to drift too far into her own mind.

It wasn’t long before Dina started to notice the small things. The way you laughed when JJ made a mess at dinner, your eyes crinkling at the corners. How you lingered by her side at night, not rushing off to your own corner of the farm, but staying close—just close enough for Dina to feel that presence without it being overwhelming.

It was the little things that made Dina realize she was starting to care for you, in a way she hadn’t thought possible. She had told herself she wouldn’t fall again, not after Ellie, not after everything. But the longer you stayed, the more Dina felt herself being drawn to you in ways that made her heart beat a little faster, even though it scared her.

One evening, after JJ had fallen asleep in the small house that had once felt so empty, you and Dina sat outside, beneath the stars. The crickets were loud, and the wind had picked up again, but it didn’t seem to matter. Dina found herself staring at you, not knowing when it had shifted—when the space between you had gotten smaller, when the moments shared had become something more than just company.

“You’re not what I expected,” Dina said quietly, half to herself. “I thought you’d be just like the rest of them. Someone who’d leave eventually.”

You looked over at her, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I won’t leave.”