YOU THINK WE'RE BROKEN?

YOU THINK WE'RE BROKEN?

It was late evening when Anise slipped out of Aunt Marie’s house. She needed air — not just fresh air, but air without questions, without pity, without that distant tension Gianna kept throwing at her like a shadow.

So she walked. Past the church building with the faded blue door, past the closed-up provision shop with the dented Coca-Cola sign. She hadn’t planned to go far enough to breathe in silence.

The streets were quieter than usual. A dog barked once in the distance. Somewhere, someone played Asa’s “Bibanke” on a speaker that crackled with emotion.

Then she saw it. The corner stall.

The one that used to sell cheap drinks. It was barely open now, a woman sweeping out front, counting her last sales for the night.

That’s when she noticed him.

Across the road. Leaning against a car she knew too well.

Jake.

Their eyes locked.

And for a moment, everything in her chest stilled.

Neither of them spoke. Until Jake gave a quiet, unsure smile — the kind that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I wasn’t stalking you,” he said, voice low. “I swear. I just… I come here sometimes. It’s quiet. You used to like this place.”

“I still do,” she replied, then paused. “But I didn’t come here to see you.”

“I figured.”

She crossed her arms, not to seem cold, more to hold herself together.

Jake looked tired. Not just sleep-deprived, but emotionally worn. His stubble had grown out, and his eyes were red at the corners like he’d been battling himself for hours.

“I heard about the hearing tomorrow,” he said. “Elgin.”

She nodded.

Her feet stopped before her brain caught up. She blinked, half-expecting him to disappear like a memory.

But he didn’t.

He hadn’t seen her yet. He looked down at his phone, one hand rubbing the back of his neck like he’d been pacing. Waiting.

She exhaled slowly. She could walk away. She could turn around, pretend she never saw him. But her feet moved forward instead.

By the time she reached the curb, he looked up.

Silence settled between them, stretched thin like a thread on the verge of snapping.

“I didn’t think you’d reach out,” she said.

“I wasn’t sure I should,” he admitted. “Last time I saw you… You asked me to stay away.”

“And you listened. That was the right thing to do.”

Jake glanced down, then back at her. “Then why are we standing here?”

Anise looked away.

That question cut deeper than it should have.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Maybe I needed a reminder that… not everything is broken beyond repair.”

Jake stepped closer, but cautiously. As if one wrong move could send her running.

“You think we’re broken?”

“I think we’re hurt,” she said. “And confused. And too stubborn to admit we’re both still bleeding.”

Jake’s throat worked. “I never wanted to be the one to hurt you.”

“But you did.”

“I know.”

“And I can’t forget it overnight,” she continued. “I can’t forget that you kept things from me. That when I needed truth, I got silence.”

He nodded, slowly. “I deserve that.”

“But the truth is,” she said softly, “I’ve missed you. And I hate that I have.”

His eyes flickered.

“Because part of me,” she went on, “still trusts you more than anyone. And another part keeps asking why I’d even feel that after everything.”

Jake closed the gap a little more, but still left enough space for her to leave if she wanted.

“I think about you every single day,” he said. “Even when I know I shouldn’t.”

Anise let out a dry laugh. “Same.”

Their eyes held again. It was too dark for anyone to notice them, too quiet for the world to interrupt.

“I don’t want to make this harder,” Jake said gently. “But if you let me… I’d like to be there tomorrow. Not as a detective, not as a hero. Just as someone who cares. Deeply.”

She stared at him for a long time.

Tomorrow was going to be hard. Brutal, even.

And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to face it alone.

“I can’t promise anything, Jake,” she whispered. “Not even tomorrow.”

“I’m not asking for a promise,” he said. “Just the chance to be near. Even from a distance.”

A beat of silence passed.

Then, in a quiet voice, she said, “Okay.”

Jake blinked, like he hadn’t expected her to say yes.

Then he nodded.

“Alright.”

Anise shifted on her feet. The wind picked up slightly, sweeping her hair into her face. Jake stepped forward and, without thinking, gently tucked it behind her ear.

His fingers brushed her cheek.

Neither of them moved for a moment.

It was tender.

Too tender.

Anise pulled back slightly, catching her breath. “I should go.”

He nodded again, quickly. “Yeah. Of course.”

She turned to walk away, then paused and looked back at him.

“Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for showing up. Even when I said not to.”

His lips curled into a faint smile — the real kind this time.

“Always.”