Mera Jensen had always been the strong one. The kind of woman who woke up before dawn, carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, and never let anyone see her sweat. At 29, she was already used to doing everything on her own. A single mother to her two-year-old son, Noah, Mera had learned early that life wasn’t going to hand her anything. She had lost her job, her car, and almost everything she’d worked for in the blink of an eye. But she wasn’t the type to break. Not in front of anyone.
Her world revolved around Noah, his smile the only thing that kept her going some days. The small apartment above a local pharmacy, the sound of the old refrigerator humming in the background, the bills that piled up but never got paid—this was Mera’s reality. But she never complained. She couldn’t afford to. She’d always been the fighter—the one who would push through, even when her legs felt too heavy to move, even when her heart was breaking.
Yet, deep inside, there was a quiet loneliness. A fear that if she let herself fall, there would be no one to catch her. She tried to reach out sometimes, but it felt like no one understood. Until one night, when a wrong number changed everything.
Mera Jensen didn’t mean to text a billionaire. She was just desperate, exhausted, and trying to get her baby to stop crying. It was well past midnight, the kind of hour when the world feels like it’s holding its breath. The apartment was cold, but not from the weather—there had been no heat for days. Her legs were pulled up to her chest on the small kitchen floor, wrapped in the worn baby blanket she had kept since her son was born. The power company didn’t care about her situation. And neither did anyone else.
Her son, Noah, was crying again from the bedroom, the kind of cry that could break anyone’s heart. She stood up slowly, the room spinning, her stomach empty. Noah’s bottle was mostly water tonight. She looked over at the counter, where the empty can of formula sat, mocking her. She shouldn’t have waited this long to ask for help. Ben had helped before, reluctantly. But he was her brother, and she hated asking him for anything. Tonight, she couldn’t afford to be proud.
She grabbed her phone with shaky hands, her thumb hovering over her brother’s name. She didn’t want to ask again, but it was Noah’s stomach. She was already losing him to hunger and exhaustion. Her pride had to wait. She typed the message quickly:
“Ben, I’m sorry to bother you again. I need $50 for formula. Noah’s almost out. I get paid Friday. I’ll pay you back, please.”
Her thumb hovered over the send button. She glanced at the time—1:05 AM. Noah’s cries were a constant beat in the background. She hit send and dropped the phone on the floor, wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Her forehead dropped to her knees, waiting for the cold, familiar emptiness that always came after she asked for help.
The phone buzzed after five minutes.
“I think you meant to send that to someone else.”
Mera’s eyes snapped open. She reached for the phone, her hands trembling as she saw the message. One wrong digit. She had texted a stranger. Her stomach dropped to the floor. She stared at the message, completely stunned.
“I’m so sorry. Please ignore the wrong number,” she typed quickly.
Her thumb hovered over the send button again, but something stopped her. She locked the phone instead, tossing it aside. The weight of the mistake sank into her chest. She was a failure, again. She could hear Noah’s cries growing louder from the bedroom, but she felt too tired to get up.
Three blocks away, across town, Jackson Albbright sat in his penthouse office, his eyes scanning the message that had just pinged on his private phone. The one he never gave out. His number was only for family—of which, there were fewer each year. No press, no assistance. Jackson had built his empire with silence, privacy, and a growing collection of enemies.
But this message wasn’t spam. It wasn’t a scam either. It was raw. Real. It was a mother, just barely holding on.
Noah’s almost out. I get paid Friday.
Jackson leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen longer than he should have.
The message hit harder than expected. It wasn’t just a request. It was a quiet plea. A mother negotiating with her own dignity. He had his fair share of messages asking for favors, partnerships, investments, even ones disguised as pleas for help. But this felt different.
Jackson didn’t reply immediately. He should have ignored it. Most nights, he would have. But tonight… tonight, something made him type back, “Is your baby going to be okay?”
When the reply came through, it wasn’t what he expected.
“What kind of stranger follows up like that?”
Mera’s first instinct was to block him, to shut this whole thing down, but something in the way he asked, so simply, made her pause. She felt a shift inside her, a moment of vulnerability.
“We’ll manage,” she wrote back. “Sorry again.”
“I can help,” he replied almost immediately. “No strings.”
She scoffed at the phone in her lap, shaking her head. “Thanks, but I don’t take money from strangers.”
“Smart policy,” he wrote back. “I’m Jackson, now. I’m not a stranger.”
Her hand hovered over the phone for a long moment. She didn’t respond, not at first. She rocked Noah back to sleep, silently crying. Not because she was broke. Not because her life had collapsed in so many ways. She cried because, for the first time in ages, she realized she was drowning. She hadn’t even noticed how deep the water had gotten.
She typed again. “I’m sorry. You really shouldn’t have.”
And then, a response almost instantly.
“I don’t mind. Take care of your son.”
Mera froze. She hadn’t told him Noah’s name.
She could hear the weight of the words. It was simple. Uncomplicated. Like Jackson wasn’t afraid to help someone who needed it. But she didn’t know him. This wasn’t normal. People didn’t do this. It was too much.
She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the phone in her hands. She re-read the message. “Take care of Noah.” It was like a secret he knew, like he had seen her before. And then, she did something she never thought she would.
She sent him her Venmo.
The phone buzzed again. She picked it up, barely able to process what she saw.
$5,000.
She blinked twice, opened the app again, and checked. $5,000. It was still there. Still real.
This was too much. Too fast.
She typed back. “I only needed $50. It’s already yours. No catch. One less thing to worry about.”
She felt something break inside her. She hadn’t cried when she was laid off, when they took the car, when Noah’s father disappeared without a word. But this… this broke her.
Her hands shook as she typed.
“Thank you.”
She didn’t know how long she sat there. Her phone was still in her lap, the screen lit up with the notification of the transfer.
She didn’t know if she could trust it. Or him. People didn’t do things like this without wanting something in return. But there was no video, no cameras, no receipts. Just this. Just the text.
She didn’t expect a response. But it came.
“I know I didn’t have to do that,” Jackson wrote. “I wanted to.”
She sat there for a long time, staring at the screen. The words didn’t make sense. There was no reason behind them, no strings, no promises. Just words. And it felt like a secret she was being told.
She typed, hesitated, then deleted the message.
Finally, she wrote, “You didn’t have to do that.”
Another long pause, and then the reply came:
“I know. But I wanted to.”
Mera held the phone in her lap and closed her eyes. She let the weight of it sink in. She let herself believe, even for a moment, that someone, even a stranger, might care. Might actually help.
But she wasn’t naïve. No one helped without asking for something in return. There had to be more to it.
Her phone buzzed again.
“Is everything okay with Noah?”
Mera stared at the screen. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard, wondering if she should block him now. Wondering if this was too good to be true.
She didn’t reply. She just closed her eyes and tried to sleep, letting herself believe, just for tonight, that she might have gotten the help she needed.
No questions. No strings. Just someone who understood.
Mera woke up the next morning to silence.
Noah was still asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling steadily, his face soft and relaxed for the first time in days. It should’ve been comforting, but it only made the house feel colder.
She got out of bed quietly, not wanting to disturb him. The empty can of formula was still on the counter, a cruel reminder of the night before. But the money, the unexpected, overwhelming money—it felt like a dream. It had to be a mistake.
She opened her Venmo app again, staring at the balance, the $5,000 that was still there. She kept checking, tapping the screen, refreshing the app, trying to convince herself that she hadn’t imagined it. But it was real. And with each passing second, the weight of it grew heavier.
Her mind couldn’t wrap itself around the generosity of it. A stranger—Jackson—had sent her money without a second thought, without asking for anything in return. It didn’t make sense. No one did things like this. Not in her world. Not in the world she’d been living in for the past few years.
She ran a hand through her hair, the silence in the apartment pressing down on her. She didn’t want to feel grateful. She didn’t want to owe anyone anything. But the reality was—she did. And she didn’t know how to deal with it.
She made herself breakfast. A cup of coffee, some toast. But it felt like chewing through cement. The thought of Noah’s father—wherever he was—made her stomach churn. The thought of Ben, who had always been distant, who had helped only when absolutely necessary, made her feel small.
What kind of person would send money like that? No one with that kind of wealth did things without a reason. She hadn’t told him her son’s name, but he knew. He’d helped. And now, there were no strings—except the ones she couldn’t see yet.
She tried to push the thoughts away. She had enough on her plate. She had to get to work. But the day stretched out like a nightmare. Every sound felt too loud. The mailman’s knock at the door, the sound of the apartment complex’s elevator groaning, the chatter of neighbors she barely knew. It all felt foreign, like she didn’t belong here. She couldn’t shake the feeling that the world was watching her. Or maybe she was watching it. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.
She grabbed her bag, checked on Noah one last time, and headed out the door, trying to put the strange feeling out of her mind.
The streets outside were still damp from the rain the night before. A chill hung in the air, but it wasn’t cold enough to feel like winter. Just enough to make her pull her jacket tighter around her shoulders. She passed the usual spots: the same corner store with the broken sign, the little café where the old man still worked the counter, and the park where the homeless man with the dog always sat on the bench, his cardboard sign tucked between his legs.
She didn’t look at him today. She couldn’t.
At the diner, she clocked in and tied on her faded blue apron, the one that had started to fray at the edges. Rosie’s Diner hadn’t changed since the day she’d started. It was still the same small, quiet place tucked between a laundromat and a hardware store, where the only real conversation was about the weather or the latest gossip about the town’s few high school kids who never quite left.
Mera didn’t mind the work. She never had. The customers were simple, kind enough, even if they didn’t know her name. They all came in, ordered the same coffee, paid in cash, and left without a word.
But today, everything felt off.
She wiped down the counter with a cloth that had seen better days, the sound of the rag against the worn wood loud in the stillness. The bell above the door jingled as a customer walked in, but it wasn’t just any customer. It was him.
Jackson.
Mera’s heart skipped. She hadn’t expected him to show up in person, not so soon. She wasn’t even sure why he was there. Did he follow her? Did he really expect her to be here? She quickly turned her back, trying to steady her breathing.
“Good morning,” Jackson said, his voice calm, almost too calm for the setting. She could hear the soft click of his boots on the tile as he approached the counter.
Mera didn’t turn around at first. Her hands were shaking. She wanted to say something, anything, but her throat felt tight.
“Coffee,” he said simply.
She forced herself to nod, turning to grab the coffee pot, pouring it into the chipped mug in front of him. The steam rose in front of her, masking the tension between them.
“On the house,” she said, her voice sounding strained to her own ears.
He took the mug, his eyes locking with hers for a brief moment, his expression unreadable.
“Thanks,” he said, sipping the coffee slowly. “I figured you’d be here.”
Her stomach twisted. “Why?”
“Because you’re here every morning,” he said, his tone light but laced with something deeper, something more knowing than she was comfortable with.
She forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s my job.”
He nodded, but the way he looked at her made her feel like he saw through her—like he could see right into the parts of her life she kept buried, the parts no one ever asked about.
“You don’t need to do this,” he said suddenly, his words slicing through the silence in a way that made her flinch.
“Do what?” she asked, her voice sharp.
“Pretend you’re fine. I know it’s not easy.”
Mera froze. She gripped the counter, her knuckles white. Was he talking about her life? Or was he talking about the money?
She didn’t know how to respond. Instead, she turned away, trying to focus on anything but him.
But he didn’t let up.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he continued, his voice softer now. “But I want to help.”
Mera’s heart pounded. She wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready for him to start pushing her boundaries. She didn’t need his help. She didn’t want it.
“I don’t need help,” she said, her words coming out colder than she intended.
He didn’t seem bothered by her response. Instead, he took another sip of coffee, his gaze steady. “I’ve been where you are. It’s not a place anyone should have to stay in.”
Her breath caught in her chest. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. What could she say? How could she explain the loneliness, the exhaustion, the constant scraping by?
“I’m fine,” she repeated, though she didn’t believe it herself.
“I know you are,” Jackson said, “But I also know what it’s like to be stuck. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Mera’s stomach churned. She didn’t want to believe him. She didn’t want to need him.
But as she looked at him—standing there with his quiet strength, his piercing eyes that seemed to see right through her—she realized something.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
And maybe, just maybe, that terrified her.
Mera didn’t know what to make of Jackson.
He had slipped into her life so quietly, like a shadow, and now he was everywhere. The small gestures, the subtle acts of kindness that made her feel both seen and exposed. She’d tried to ignore him at first, trying to keep her distance, telling herself it was just a random mistake. But he kept showing up—at the diner, at the office, in the messages he sent her. Always offering, always there, always a little too close. And it wasn’t just about the money anymore. She had almost convinced herself that he was just being kind, that he was helping out of the goodness of his heart. But now? Now, the suspicion gnawed at her.
Every time she opened her phone, his name was there—waiting. But she hadn’t responded, not since that night. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the money. She did. She had to admit, it had been a relief to know that Noah would have what he needed, at least for a little while. But Jackson? He was different. He wasn’t the kind of man who just gave money and walked away. There was something more.
The silence between them had become unbearable. Jackson had stopped texting for the last couple of days, but he hadn’t really let her slip away either. He showed up at work every morning, sitting in the same booth at the back of the diner, drinking his coffee, watching her with that unreadable look in his eyes. He didn’t say much. It was like he was waiting. Waiting for her to make the next move.
Mera tried to keep her focus on Noah, on getting through the day, on making sure she didn’t think about the growing pile of questions inside her. But it wasn’t working.
She was sitting at the counter, wiping down a glass, when she heard the familiar jingle of the doorbell. Her heart skipped. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
Jackson.
She forced herself to finish the glass, keeping her back to him for a few extra seconds. It was silly, this need to avoid him. But she didn’t know how to face him without feeling like she was being pulled into something she didn’t understand.
The silence stretched between them, and she finally turned.
“Morning,” she said, her voice too loud in the quiet diner.
Jackson didn’t respond right away. He just watched her, his eyes studying her face like he was searching for something.
“Morning,” he said after a moment, his voice low, deliberate.
Mera didn’t want to engage. She didn’t want to feel this pull towards him, this unspoken thing between them that neither of them acknowledged out loud. She grabbed the coffee pot and poured without looking, trying to keep the movements automatic.
“How’s Noah?” he asked suddenly.
Mera froze for just a moment. “He’s fine,” she replied quickly. “Sleeping, finally.”
Jackson’s gaze softened for a second before his usual blank expression returned. “Good,” he said, as though he were personally invested in the answer.
She set the coffee pot down, avoiding his eyes. “You don’t have to keep showing up here.”
He didn’t flinch at the words. “I know. But I don’t mind.”
It was a simple answer, but it unsettled her. She couldn’t decide if he was being polite or if he was subtly pushing his way into her life.
“I don’t need anything from you,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
His eyes never left her face. “You think you don’t.”
Her chest tightened. She didn’t know what to say to that. Because part of her wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that he was just being nice, that he was offering help without expecting anything in return. But another part of her was scared. Scared that he wanted something she wasn’t ready to give.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “I don’t need your charity.”
Jackson was quiet for a moment, and for a second, Mera thought maybe he was going to push, that he was going to argue. But he didn’t. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small envelope, sliding it across the counter to her.
Mera stared at it for a long time before finally picking it up. She knew what it was. It was cash.
She opened it slowly, her hands trembling, and saw the money inside. It wasn’t just a few bills—it was more than she had ever seen in one place. Enough to take care of Noah’s formula for months. Enough to cover rent, utilities, even a little extra to put toward her overdue bills.
Her breath caught in her throat.
“No strings attached,” Jackson said quietly, almost as though he could hear her thoughts. “Just take it. For Noah.”
Mera didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to take it. She didn’t want to owe him anything. But as she looked at the money, the weight of it, the weight of everything she had been struggling with, it felt like a lifeline.
She didn’t take the money immediately. She just stared at it, the temptation to grab it battling against the part of her that screamed not to.
Jackson’s eyes softened. “You’re proud,” he said, his voice gentle. “I get it. But sometimes, you don’t have to do everything alone.”
Mera felt something break inside her at the words.
She had been alone for so long. She had always been alone.
She looked at the money again. The weight of it was unbearable. She wanted to refuse, wanted to tell him to take it back, but she couldn’t. She needed it. She needed to make sure Noah had what he needed. She needed to survive.
Slowly, she reached out and took the envelope, her fingers brushing against his for just a moment.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Jackson nodded, his gaze steady. “Just take care of Noah.”
Mera nodded, unable to find the words to say anything more. She didn’t know how to thank him for this, for giving her something that felt like more than just money. It felt like hope. It felt like a chance. And that scared her more than anything.
He stood up, his hand brushing against the edge of the counter as he turned to leave. But before he did, he paused.
“Do me a favor,” he said, his voice low. “Let me help. Don’t make me just a stranger.”
Mera didn’t answer right away. She didn’t know how.
Instead, she watched him walk out the door, the bell jingling behind him as he left.
The silence in the diner felt heavier than before. But this time, it wasn’t just the quiet that made it unbearable—it was the realization that she didn’t know where to go from here.
She looked down at the envelope again.
Jackson wasn’t just a stranger anymore.
And that terrified her.
Later that evening, as she sat on her worn couch, Noah asleep in his crib, Mera found herself scrolling through the messages on her phone. Jackson’s name was at the top of the screen, the last message from him still fresh in her mind.
“Let me help. Don’t make me just a stranger.”
She couldn’t shake those words. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was shifting, that her life was slowly slipping out of her control, and she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to hold on or let go.
But it wasn’t just about her anymore.
It was about Noah.
And no matter how much it terrified her, she couldn’t ignore the fact that Jackson had shown up when she needed him the most.
The question was: Could she let herself trust him?
Mera sat on the edge of the bed, the silence in the room pressing down on her. Noah was asleep, his small body curled up under the soft blankets, a picture of peace. But inside, Mera was anything but calm. The events of the past few days had stirred something in her, something she couldn’t quite place. Jackson. His presence had been like a quiet storm, growing in intensity without her even realizing it.
She had always prided herself on being self-sufficient. Even when things had seemed impossible, she had managed to find a way to make it through. But Jackson had changed that. He hadn’t just offered money. He hadn’t just offered help. He had offered a kind of understanding, a kind of quiet support that Mera wasn’t used to receiving. And that was what terrified her.
She pulled her legs up to her chest, hugging her knees, and stared out the window at the city beyond. The streets were empty, the lights flickering in the distance, and the world outside felt so far removed from her reality. She didn’t belong in this world—this world of billionaires and corporate offices, this world of luxuries she could only dream of. She was just a single mother trying to survive, trying to keep her son fed, clothed, and safe.
But Jackson… he wasn’t just anyone. He was someone who had built empires, who had everything and nothing at the same time. She had never met anyone like him. The way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her, it was like he could see right through her defenses. And it wasn’t just about the money anymore. It was about trust. And Mera didn’t trust easily.
The phone buzzed on the nightstand, breaking her from her thoughts. She reached for it, her heart racing, her fingers hovering over the screen. It was a message from Jackson.
“Do you need anything else?”
Mera stared at the message, her thumb hesitating over the reply. She didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t want to seem like she was taking advantage, but at the same time, she couldn’t deny the truth—she needed help. She had always needed help. She just didn’t know how to ask for it.
She sighed, typed a quick reply, and hit send before she could think twice.
“No, I’m fine. Thanks again.”
She stared at the screen, waiting for his response. The minutes ticked by, and she found herself holding her breath. She had no reason to feel this way—no reason to feel so anxious about a simple text. But there was something about Jackson that made her feel exposed, like she was standing in front of him with nothing left to hide.
The phone buzzed again. This time, the message came through almost immediately.
“Are you sure? Because if you ever do, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Mera’s chest tightened. She didn’t know what to say to that. How could she ask for more? How could she admit that she was barely holding it together, that she was terrified of failing Noah, that she was scared of letting him down?
She typed back, her fingers trembling as she wrote the words.
“I don’t want to owe you anything. You’ve already helped so much.”
The message lingered on the screen, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn’t reply. But then, the three dots appeared, signaling that he was typing.
“You don’t owe me anything. You don’t have to worry about that. Just take care of your son. That’s all I ask.”
Mera’s throat tightened, and she felt the tears threaten to spill. She quickly blinked them away, pressing her fingers to her eyes to stop them. She didn’t have time for this. She didn’t have time to fall apart.
She glanced over at Noah, asleep peacefully in his crib, oblivious to the weight of the world that Mera was carrying. He didn’t deserve any of this. He didn’t deserve the struggles, the sleepless nights, the constant fight to make ends meet. He deserved better than this, better than the life Mera had been able to provide so far.
A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. She froze, not sure who it could be. No one came to visit her, not since she had moved in. The landlord didn’t care, and the neighbors barely knew she existed.
Mera stood up quickly, her heart racing. She walked toward the door cautiously, peeking through the peephole. A delivery man stood outside, holding a large box. Mera’s breath caught in her throat.
She opened the door slowly, her pulse quickening. “Yes?” she asked, her voice shaky.
“Delivery for Mera Jensen,” the man said, his voice gruff.
Mera nodded, still in shock. “I’m Mera.”
He handed her a clipboard, and she signed for the package. She didn’t know what to expect, but her hands were already trembling as she took the box from him. The man turned and walked away without another word, leaving her standing in the doorway, the weight of the box heavy in her hands.
She closed the door behind her and set the box down on the floor. It wasn’t until she opened it that she realized what it was. Inside, there were bags of formula, baby food, diapers, wipes—everything she had been desperately trying to make do without for the past week. But that wasn’t all. There were clothes, toys, bottles—things she hadn’t been able to afford, things she hadn’t even dreamed of getting for Noah. The things that made her feel like a real mother.
At the bottom of the box, there was an envelope. She opened it slowly, her hands shaking as she pulled out the note inside.
“You shouldn’t have to worry about this anymore. Take care of your son. – J.”
Her eyes blurred as she read the words. The note was simple, unassuming, but it hit her harder than anything else had in weeks. She didn’t understand it. She didn’t understand him.
She sat on the floor, surrounded by the boxes, the weight of the gifts pressing down on her. Her mind raced as she tried to process everything. Why was Jackson doing this? Why was he helping her? And more importantly, what did he want in return?
The truth was, she didn’t know if she could trust him. She didn’t know if she could ever trust anyone again. She had spent too many years putting up walls, trying to protect herself and Noah from the world. And yet, here she was, accepting help from a man she barely knew.
But Noah needed this. He needed what Jackson was offering, even if Mera didn’t know how to ask for it.
For the first time in a long while, Mera allowed herself to feel a flicker of hope. It was fleeting, but it was there. Maybe, just maybe, things could change. Maybe, just maybe, she could allow herself to trust again.
As she looked down at Noah, still asleep in his crib, she whispered softly, “Maybe we’re going to be okay.”
The doorbell rang again, this time louder, more insistent. Mera stood up, wiping her hands on her jeans as she made her way toward the door. She wasn’t ready to face whoever it was, but she had no choice.
She opened the door, and there he was. Jackson. Standing in the doorway, looking at her with that same unreadable expression.
He didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at her, his eyes steady, as though waiting for her to make the first move.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“You never are,” he replied.
Mera didn’t know what to say, so she just stepped aside and let him in. This was her life now. It had been turned upside down, and she wasn’t sure if she could handle it. But Jackson? He wasn’t going anywhere. And maybe, for the first time in a long time, that was exactly what she needed.
Mera stood frozen in the doorway, the weight of Jackson’s presence filling the small space between them. He wasn’t just a visitor. He wasn’t even a guest. He was something more, something she couldn’t quite grasp, yet something she knew was impossible to ignore.
“Can I come in?” he asked, his voice steady, calm, but there was a flicker of something else there—something unreadable.
Mera didn’t answer right away. She wanted to say something—anything—but the words caught in her throat. She had no idea what to make of this situation, no idea how to handle the man standing in her living room, offering kindness without an agenda, or at least none that she could see.
“Yeah,” she said finally, stepping aside just enough to let him through. She closed the door softly behind him, the sound of the latch clicking making the silence in the apartment feel heavier than it was.
Jackson glanced around the room, taking in the dim light filtering through the blinds, the mismatched furniture, the faint smell of baby powder and old takeout that seemed to linger in the air. It wasn’t much. But it was home.
“This is… cozy,” he said after a long pause, his tone almost surprised. He didn’t mean it in a dismissive way, but there was something about his words that made her feel exposed, as if he was seeing her for who she really was.
Mera forced a smile. “It’s all I need.”
He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he walked over to the small couch and sat down, his gaze still lingering on her, his eyes searching her face like he was trying to figure her out.
She wasn’t sure if she was ready for this. Ready for him to be here, to see her like this—vulnerable, tired, unsure of herself. She had always kept her walls up, always made sure no one could get too close. But Jackson? He was different. His presence didn’t make her feel small. It didn’t make her feel inadequate. Instead, it made her feel… seen.
“I didn’t expect you to come,” she said, her voice quiet. “I didn’t know what to expect, honestly.”
Jackson nodded slowly. “I didn’t expect you to need me,” he said, his voice softer now. “But I’m not going anywhere, Mera.”
She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat growing larger. She had never been good at letting people in. She had never wanted to. But now, with him sitting in her living room, with the weight of everything hanging between them, it was impossible to ignore the truth.
She couldn’t keep pretending. She couldn’t keep acting like she had it all together when she didn’t. Noah needed her, and for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure she was enough.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked suddenly, her voice thick with emotion. “Why are you helping me?”
Jackson’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he looked like he might say something more, something personal. But then he just shrugged, as if the answer didn’t matter as much as the fact that he was there.
“I saw someone who needed help,” he said simply. “I’m not asking for anything in return.”
Mera shook her head. “But that’s the thing,” she said, her voice trembling. “No one just helps for nothing. You’ve done so much already, and I—” She stopped herself, not sure where she was going with the sentence.
“I’m not expecting anything from you,” Jackson interrupted gently. “I just want to help. That’s it.”
But Mera wasn’t sure she believed him. She didn’t know if she could. People didn’t help out of the kindness of their hearts, not without wanting something in return. She had learned that the hard way.
“I don’t know how to trust anyone anymore,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.
Jackson’s expression softened, and he stood up slowly, walking over to where she was standing by the counter. He didn’t touch her, didn’t invade her space, but his presence was enough to make her feel something—something she wasn’t sure she was ready for.
“I don’t want to rush you,” he said quietly. “But I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, Mera. And I’m here for Noah.”
Mera’s heart pounded in her chest as she looked up at him, his words sinking in deeper than she was comfortable with. She didn’t know how to handle this, how to let someone into her life like this, especially someone like him.
She looked away, suddenly feeling exposed. “You’re… different,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t act like anyone else.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Jackson asked, his voice low.
She didn’t respond at first. She didn’t know how to. The truth was, she didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. She didn’t know what to make of him—of them. All she knew was that something was shifting. And she didn’t know how to stop it.
Before she could say anything more, she heard a small noise from the other room. Noah.
Mera’s heart skipped a beat, and she hurried toward the bedroom. Jackson followed her, standing at the doorway as she bent over the crib to check on him. He was awake now, his eyes wide, his tiny hands reaching out toward her.
“Hey, little guy,” Mera said softly, picking him up carefully and cradling him in her arms. Noah cooed softly, his little face lighting up when he saw her.
Jackson stood in the doorway, watching them both quietly, and Mera felt a strange sense of unease wash over her. It was one thing to be seen by him, but to let him see her with Noah—her whole world, the only thing that truly mattered—felt like a line she wasn’t ready to cross.
Noah reached out, his tiny hand grasping at the air before landing on Jackson’s outstretched finger. Jackson looked down at the baby, his expression softening.
“I think he likes you,” Mera said, her voice a little shaky.
Jackson smiled, his gaze never leaving Noah. “He’s a good kid.”
Mera nodded but didn’t say anything. The room felt heavy with the unspoken words between them. She didn’t know what she wanted from Jackson, or if she even wanted anything at all. But for the first time, she allowed herself to think that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to do everything alone.
Jackson stayed for a while longer, his presence calm and steady. It was like he knew when to speak and when to stay silent. For once, Mera wasn’t the one carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. She could feel the burden easing, if only slightly, with each minute he spent in the apartment.
When he finally stood to leave, he turned to her one last time.
“I’m still here,” he said quietly. “And I’ll be here tomorrow. And the day after.”
Mera nodded slowly, unsure of what to say. “Thanks, Jackson. For everything.”
He smiled, a small, genuine smile. “You don’t need to thank me. Just take care of yourself. Take care of Noah.”
As he left, Mera felt something shift inside her. The walls she had spent so long building around herself were beginning to crack, and for the first time in years, she wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing.
She stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him walk away, and for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself to feel something that wasn’t fear.
Hope.
Hope that maybe she wasn’t as alone as she had thought.
The days after Jackson’s visit seemed to stretch into eternity for Mera. Each morning, the routine felt the same—wake up, check on Noah, make sure there was enough formula, enough food, enough of everything. But something had changed. She could feel it, even in the small, quiet moments. Jackson’s words lingered in her mind, his presence an unspoken weight in her apartment, in her life. He wasn’t gone, not really. Not like she had expected.
It was strange, how his offer to help, his simple, unassuming way of being there, had started to fill in the spaces she hadn’t even realized were empty. Every time she thought she might get used to his silence, another message would pop up on her phone. Sometimes it was just a check-in, sometimes a question about Noah. Always simple. Always kind.
But it wasn’t just the messages. He had started showing up at the diner again, sitting in the same booth by the window, his presence as steady and predictable as the sunlight filtering through the blinds. At first, she had avoided him, pretending that she was too busy to notice. But eventually, she had stopped. She stopped pretending she didn’t feel the pull of his gaze, stopped pretending that she didn’t want to talk to him.
That morning, as Mera poured a cup of coffee, she noticed him sitting there, just like every other day. But today was different. Today, there was something new in the way he looked at her, a quiet intensity she hadn’t seen before.
She couldn’t help herself. She walked over to his booth, the sound of her shoes on the tiled floor the only noise in the otherwise silent diner.
“Hey,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual, though her heart was racing.
Jackson looked up at her, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Hey, Mera,” he said, his voice smooth, but there was something there, something deeper that made her stomach tighten.
She sat down across from him, feeling the weight of the moment settle between them. “You’re here early,” she said, trying to fill the silence, to push away the tension she felt creeping in.
“I had some things to do,” he said, his eyes never leaving hers. “But I wanted to see you.”
Mera’s breath hitched at his words. She tried to keep her composure, to keep her walls up, but it was getting harder. With every word, every glance, he was breaking them down, piece by piece.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said quietly, before quickly adding, “I didn’t expect you to come back.”
Jackson’s smile softened, and he leaned forward slightly. “I told you I wouldn’t leave. I meant it.”
Mera felt a flicker of doubt, mixed with something else—something warm, something dangerous. She wasn’t ready to trust him. She wasn’t sure if she ever would be. But the truth was, she wanted to. More than she cared to admit, more than she had ever allowed herself to admit. She wanted to believe him.
“I don’t know what to do with all of this,” she said, her voice cracking just slightly. “I don’t know how to let someone in again.”
Jackson nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to. You don’t have to let me in if you’re not ready. But I’m not going anywhere, Mera. You can take your time. I’m here for you, whether you want me to be or not.”
His words hit her harder than she expected. It wasn’t just the words themselves, but the quiet sincerity with which he said them. She had spent so long building walls, trying to protect herself from everyone, from everything. And now, here he was, standing in front of her, offering her something she had never allowed herself to want—someone who genuinely cared.
She wanted to pull away, wanted to reject him, but something inside her stopped her. Instead, she sat there, staring at him, letting the silence stretch between them. Finally, she broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m scared,” she admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “I’m scared of trusting again. I’m scared of what happens if I let someone in.”
Jackson didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at her, his eyes soft and understanding. Finally, he spoke.
“I know what it’s like to be scared,” he said quietly. “But you don’t have to go through this alone, Mera. I won’t let you.”
The sincerity in his voice made Mera’s heart ache. She had never felt so vulnerable in her life. She didn’t know if she was ready for this—ready for him. But she was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of pretending that everything was okay when it wasn’t. She was tired of doing it all alone.
“I don’t know if I can trust you,” she whispered, looking down at her hands, suddenly unsure of herself. “But I want to. I want to believe that this is real. That you’re real.”
Jackson didn’t hesitate. He reached across the table and gently placed his hand over hers. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, and for a moment, she thought she might break down right then and there.
“You don’t have to trust me all at once,” he said softly. “Trust is something that takes time. But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Mera felt her walls start to crumble. She couldn’t help it. She wanted to let him in. More than she had ever wanted anything. But the fear still lingered, hovering just beneath the surface, keeping her from fully embracing what was happening between them.
“I’m scared of getting hurt,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ve been hurt so many times before.”
Jackson’s expression softened, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding. “I get it. I do. But you don’t have to do this alone anymore. Let me help.”
Mera felt a tear slip down her cheek before she could stop it. She quickly wiped it away, embarrassed, but Jackson didn’t say anything. He just watched her, his hand still resting over hers, his touch gentle and steady.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The world outside the diner seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in that small, quiet space. And for the first time in a long time, Mera felt like she wasn’t alone.
She didn’t know what would happen next. She didn’t know if she was ready to trust him. But she knew one thing for sure: Jackson wasn’t just a stranger anymore. He had become something more—someone she wasn’t sure she could live without.
She took a deep breath and finally looked up at him. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’m ready. Let’s take this one step at a time.”
Jackson smiled, and for the first time, Mera didn’t feel like she was alone in the world. She didn’t feel like she had to carry the weight of everything by herself. Maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to be so afraid anymore.
And as the silence settled between them, she knew that whatever came next, she wouldn’t be facing it alone.
