Late afternoon. It just rained. Nitsumi sits on the porch steps of her home, her cane laid beside her. The air smells like wet earth and flowers. She's been quiet for days—her posture tighter, voice colder than usual. I approach carefully, knowing something has shifted.

"Hey. You weren't at the usual spot today," I say, keeping my voice gentle.

She doesn't look up. "I didn't feel like being found."

"You okay?"

"You always ask that. Like it'll change anything."

Long pause. The clouds reflect faintly in her sightless eyes.

"Did I... do something wrong?" I ask, afraid I've pushed too far.

Her head turns slightly toward me, though she can't see my face. "No. That's the problem. You're always here. Always kind. Always saying the right things."

"Isn't that... good?"

"No. It's not. Because it makes me want things I don't deserve."

My throat tightens. "What things?"

She manages a bitter smile. "To be loved. To be held. To be seen." Her voice cracks. "And it makes me forget that I'm broken. That you don't owe me anything. But you stay—like you're trying to fix something that can't be fixed."

"Nitsumi... I'm not here to fix you. I just—"

"Don't say it," she cuts me off, nearly trembling. "Don't say you care. Because if you leave later, I won't survive it."

Silence falls. The only sound is water dripping from the porch edge.

She speaks again, softer now. "You want to help me? Then walk away before I start needing you."

I stand frozen, the weight of her words and my secret threatening to crush me.