Jason changed tactics.
Not abruptly.
Not obviously.
He became gentle again.
How He Tries to Win Her Back
He stopped watching her sleep.
Instead, he cooked for her—foods she once liked, arranged carefully on plates like offerings.
"I remember," he said lightly, setting the tray down. "You always liked this."
She looked at the food.
Then at him.
"I don't know what I like anymore," she said quietly.
The words startled them both.
Jason smiled quickly, too quickly. "That's okay. I'll remind you."
He reached for her hand.
This time, she didn't pull away.
She let him touch her.
Just for a second.
Then she spoke again.
"I need space," she said.
Jason stiffened—but nodded.
"Of course," he replied. "Take all the time you need."
His voice was calm.
His eyes were not.
She Tests Her Voice
Later that afternoon, she tried again.
"I want to open the windows," she said.
Jason paused.
The request was small.
That was what made it dangerous.
"The air outside isn't good for you," he replied smoothly.
She swallowed. "I want to decide that myself."
Silence fell between them.
Jason exhaled slowly.
"Tomorrow," he said. "We'll see."
It wasn't a yes.
But it wasn't a no.
Her chest tightened with something unfamiliar.
Hope.
Someone Notices
Across the city, a nurse paused while reviewing records.
Loraine's mother's file.
Payments were still being made—on time, excessive, flawless.
But no visits.
No calls.
No updates requested.
"That's strange," the nurse murmured.
She checked the emergency contact.
A name she recognized.
Ethan.
She hesitated.
Then dialed.
Jason Feels the Shift
That evening, Jason stood too close.
"You spoke more today," he said quietly. "I like that."
She met his eyes. "I'm not speaking for you."
His jaw tightened.
"You don't have to push," he said. "We're healing."
She shook her head. "Healing doesn't feel like this."
For a moment—just a moment—Jason looked unsure.
Then he smiled again.
"You're tired," he said. "Fear makes people imagine distance."
She said nothing.
But she did not look down.
The Call That Changes the Air
Jason's phone rang.
He answered casually—then went very still.
"Yes," he said.
A pause.
His eyes flicked to Loraine.
"Yes, she's safe," he continued calmly.
Another pause.
"We appreciate your concern."
He ended the call.
For the first time since she'd regained her voice, Loraine saw something real cross his face.
Irritation.
"Who was that?" she asked.
Jason smiled. "No one important."
She nodded.
But she felt it.
The outside world had knocked.
That Night
Jason stood at the doorway as she prepared for bed.
"You know I love you," he said softly. "I don't want us to become enemies."
She looked at him.
"I don't want to disappear," she replied.
Their eyes locked.
Something shifted.
Jason stepped back.
"Sleep," he said. "We'll talk tomorrow."
The door closed—but not locked.
That scared her more than when it was.
Questions That Refuse to Stay Quiet
Is Jason softening because he cares—or because he senses control slipping?
How much truth can Loraine speak before it becomes dangerous?
Who else is starting to look for her?
And now that the outside world has noticed…
how long before Jason decides to act?