Couldn't even survive alone for 1 minutes
1034 Words
Morning sunlight crept through the blinds, painting stripes across the repair shop floor. Jonas stood by the counter, arms crossed, watching as Liana carefully stacked mismatched cups on a shelf.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said.
She glanced over her shoulder with a small smile. “I want to. I should help, since you’re letting me stay.”
His jaw tightened. “About that. You need to leave today.”
The cup in her hand trembled. “Leave? but I have no where to go”
“its not my problem, I told you am only housing you for one night. I can’t have strangers hanging around here.” He turned to his workbench, deliberately avoiding her wide eyes. “This isn’t a charity.”
Liana set the cup down slowly. Her chest ached with a strange heaviness she couldn’t name. She had nowhere to go, no memory to guide her. Without him, the world outside was a storm she wasn’t ready to face.
“But…” Her voice cracked. “I don’t know where to go.”
Jonas rubbed the back of his neck. She looked too fragile, too lost, but he forced himself to stay firm. “Then figure it out. People do it all the time.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. She bent down, grabbed the locket from the blanket, and clutched it like it was her last anchor.
“I’ll try,” she whispered.
---
By afternoon, Liana stepped out of the shop. The air felt colder than the night she first arrived. The streets bustled with vendors and children darting between stalls, their laughter loud in her ears.
She tried to walk confidently, but each step felt foreign. She didn’t know where to buy food, where to find safety, or even how much money she should have—if she had any at all.
Her stomach twisted painfully. She hadn’t eaten since the noodles.
At a corner, she stopped by a stall selling skewered fish cakes. The smell made her mouth water.
“How much?” she asked timidly.
“Two dollars,” the vendor replied.
Her hands flew to her pockets—empty. No wallet. No coins. Nothing.
Heat rose to her cheeks. She mumbled an apology and turned away quickly, bumping into a group of boys loitering nearby.
“Watch it,” one snapped, eyes narrowing at her silk blouse, though it was still damp and wrinkled. “What’s a girl like you doing here?”
“I…I’m just passing through,” she said, stepping back.
The tallest one smirked. “Passing through with no money? Maybe you’ve got something else we can use.” His gaze dropped to the locket in her hand.
“No!” She clutched it tightly, heart pounding. “This is mine!”
The boys moved closer, circling her.
---
Back at the shop, Jonas was adjusting the repaired lamp when he heard shouting from outside. Frowning, he stepped to the door.
And froze.
Across the street, Liana stood cornered, clutching her locket as three punks jeered at her. One reached for her wrist.
Something hot and sharp surged through Jonas’s chest.
Without thinking, he strode across the road.
“Hey!” His voice was like steel.
The boys turned. Recognition flashed in their eyes. “Oh, it’s Jonas the junkman.”
Jonas’s glare hardened. “you all get lost right this minute.”
The tallest boy sneered. “Why? She yours?”
Jonas didn’t answer he just stepped between them, his stance unyielding. For a moment, silence pulsed heavy in the air. Then, muttering curses, the boys backed off and disappeared down the alley.
Liana’s knees nearly gave out. Jonas caught her elbow before she collapsed.
“You’re unbelievable,” he muttered, steadying her. “Can’t survive five minutes without trouble.”
Tears stung her eyes. “I…I tried.”
Jonas looked at her then really looked and his frustration crumbled. She wasn’t built for the streets. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
With a sigh, he guided her back toward the shop.
“One more night,” he said gruffly. “That’s all.”
But deep down, he already knew it was a lie.
The shop felt warmer when they returned, though Liana was still trembling. Jonas handed her a cup of water and leaned against the counter, arms crossed.
“You really don’t remember anything?” he asked, studying her.
She shook her head. “Nothing. Just this.” She lifted the locket.
“Then open it.”
Her fingers hovered over the clasp. Fear flickered across her face. “What if I don’t like what I find?”
Jonas exhaled slowly. “Then at least you’ll know.”
But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she slipped it back into the pouch and hugged it against her chest.
---
The evening settled in quietly. Jonas tried to work, but his eyes kept straying to Liana. She sat cross-legged on the floor, fiddling with spare buttons and gears, assembling them into odd little patterns.
When he finally asked, “What are you doing?” she smiled faintly.
“Making something pretty out of what’s broken.”
Jonas stared at her hands, delicate yet steady. She was strange, reckless, frustrating—and yet, every word she spoke seemed to plant roots in the cracks of his guarded heart.
He cleared his throat. “You’re still leaving soon. Don’t forget that.”
She didn’t argue this time. She only whispered, almost to herself, “I’ll leave…when I find where I belong.”
Jonas forced his gaze away, but her words clung to him long after she curled up to sleep.
---
Later that night, when the clocks ticked in the silence, Jonas sat awake at his workbench.
He told himself she was nothing but trouble, a lost girl who’d bring chaos into his life.
But as he glanced at her sleeping form—hair spilling across the blanket, hand curled protectively around the locket—he couldn’t deny the truth simmering inside him.
For the first time in years, his shop didn’t feel empty.
And he wasn’t sure he wanted it to again.
- Writer
