Those days at the refugee camp were relentless. Vivi pushed through them on almost no sleep, running on fumes, her body protesting every hour. But when she saw the gratitude on the faces of the people they were helping, she felt, with quiet certainty, that this was what her life was supposed to be.
No matter where she went, Julian was there, trailing at a fixed distance like something attached to her shadow. He prepared brown sugar ginger tea for her without being asked when her period came. On the nights she couldn't stop coughing, a wool blanket appeared outside her tent without explanation. When the camp ran low on medical supplies, he quietly got on the phone with contacts and arranged for entire tons of materials to be sourced and delivered.
He followed her around like a loyal, tire
