Chapter 6: Never Alone Again

Even though the coffee shop was far, I felt lucky—because someone was always with me on the way home.

I guessed he must work nearby, since he always left at the same time. Our routes were exactly the same. With him there, I wasn’t so scared at night.

One day, after a long shift and a bit of a cold, I collapsed on the way home. When I woke up, I was in Julian’s bed.

I panicked, searching for him, and found him in the kitchen, clumsily following a cooking video to make chicken soup.

He turned when he heard me, brows furrowed with concern. "You’re awake? Go lie down—don’t catch a cold."

"What are you doing?"

Still weak, I leaned against the door, confused. He repeated what I’d told him before. "Autumn said, if you have a fever, you need rest, eat light, drink soup."

I smiled through tears.

"You should go back," he said, a little embarrassed, collar undone, neck flushed red.

"Okay."

I was dizzy, barely able to walk straight. Julian strode over, standing in front of me, shy.

"Autumn, sorry—excuse me."

"Huh?"

Before I could react, he scooped me up, strong and steady. My heart pounded as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

He carried me to bed, tucking me in. "Rest for a while."

I had so many questions. "How did you know where I was?"

I suddenly realized, "You’ve been the one following me all this time!"

I remembered Julian struggled with directions—something easy for most was hard for someone with autism.

He pulled up a stool, looking a bit embarrassed. "From the coffee shop to your house, you have to go through a dark alley, about fifteen minutes’ walk, pass a big red sign for the corner store, then a thousand steps, turn left, and you’re home. Because you’re alone at night, and it’s scary."

He’d walked that route over and over for a month to memorize it. It wasn’t luck that I always had company—he was always there.

"Are you an idiot?" Tears welled up.

"You’re the one who calls me dumb Julian. I just didn’t want you to be scared."

He handed me tissues, gently wiping my tears, crying too. "If I’m good to you, then you still have me."

"You said, even if I’m not around, you have to take care of yourself—eat on time, dress warm. Even if you don’t like me, you have to listen, okay?"

"Did you take care of yourself?"

He cried. "You’re such a dummy. So you don’t like me?" I asked, missing the point, eyes red.

"I do," he mumbled, "but you heard what Dr. Porter said—I’m sick. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you."

I hugged his waist, nuzzling him for comfort. "You can’t get rid of me this time. I’m staying. We’ll face it together."

He hugged me back, holding me tight, as if he wanted to fuse us together.