It was the weekend — a few quiet days after the party, after the awkward morning, after Alden's words that still echoed in Jenn's mind.
She hadn't seen him much since then, though they crossed paths in silence more than once.
Jeff had called that morning.
"You still up for seeing your aunt?"
Jenn hesitated for a moment, her heart tugging between wanting answers and wanting to hide from them.
But eventually, she said yes.
Now, they were on the road.
The car hummed steadily, sunlight flickering through the trees. The air smelled faintly of dust and rain — calm, but heavy with the kind of quiet that carries unspoken thoughts.
Jenn leaned her head against the window, watching fields blur by. "It's been years since I last saw her," she murmured. "Feels strange."
Jeff glanced at her briefly. "You said she raised you, right?"
She nodded. "Yeah. My parents died when I was little. She was all I had. She was… strict sometimes, but she always made sure I had what I needed."
He smiled faintly. "Sounds like she cared a lot."
"She did," Jenn said softly
She looked away quickly, but not before he caught the flicker of emotion in her eyes.
The drive continued in soft silence, only the hum of the engine and the rustle of wind filling the space between them.
After a while, Jeff broke it again. "You've been quiet these last few days."
Jenn let out a slow breath. "I've had a lot to think about."
He nodded. "Alden?"
She hesitated, then nodded slightly. "He's been distant. I know I hurt him. I just don't know how to fix it."
Jeff gave a small, understanding smile — though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Some things you can't fix, Jenn. You can only be honest about them."
Her voice came out small. "And if honesty ruins what's left?"
"Then maybe it wasn't built to last," he said quietly.
Jenn turned her face away again, not trusting herself to reply.
The sun had started to dip when Jenn and Jeff finally arrived.
Her aunt's place was quiet, tucked near the edge of town — the kind of house that smelled like years of peace and warm evenings.
Jeff helped her carry the small bag out of the car, his eyes moving over the house with quiet curiosity. "So this is where you grew up?"
Jenn smiled faintly. "Where I learned how to burn rice and pretend I didn't."
Jeff chuckled. "Good to know you've improved since then."
Before she could answer, the door swung open.
"Jennifer?"
Jenn's face lit up instantly. "Aunt Linda!"
They met halfway, arms wrapping tightly around each other. The years melted in that hug — the kind filled with real warmth, not formality.
"You didn't even tell me you were coming," Linda scolded softly, cupping her niece's cheek. "You've grown prettier… and thinner. Are you eating?"
Jenn laughed. "I'm fine, Aunt. This is Jeff."
Jeff smiled politely, extending a hand. "It's good to meet you, ma'am."
"Oh, drop the ma'am," Linda said, shaking his hand warmly. "I'm Aunt Linda to you too. Come in before the mosquitoes start singing."
They entered the house — simple but cozy, walls lined with family photos and the faint hum of an old ceiling fan.
Jenn smiled at that, a little warmth blooming in her chest. It felt like home again.
The evening moved quietly. They had dinner — rice, chicken stew, and soft laughter that came easier than Jenn expected. Linda talked about her neighbors, her tiny vegetable garden, and how quiet life had been lately.
"So," Jeff said, "you're a nurse?"
Linda smiled. "Thirty-two years and counting. I've worked in more wards than I can remember."
Jenn added softly, "She's the reason I even liked hospitals. I used to follow her around as a kid — playing with stethoscopes I didn't understand."
Linda laughed. "And stealing my sweets, don't forget that part."
At some point, she said with a knowing smile, "Jenn, you look happy."
Jenn's eyes flickered briefly toward Jeff before she looked away, grinning faintly. "I'm… trying to be."
The night drifted on beautifully. After dinner, Jenn gave Jeff a small tour — the garden, the little study, the old bookshelf packed with medical books and framed certificates.
While Jenn went to get them both tea, Jeff's eyes landed on a pile of old files on the desk. He picked one up absentmindedly — and froze.
A hospital logo he recognized.
The same as the one from the file Aunt Carol had taken days ago.
He flipped it open slightly, curiosity pulling at him — and inside, saw a document dated twenty-one years back, the ink faint but legible. There was also an old passport tucked inside — Aunt Linda's — bearing the same hospital stamp.
His brows furrowed. What are the odds?
Just then, Jenn's voice came from the doorway. "You found her files?"
Jeff quickly closed it, smiling casually. "Yeah, just glancing through. Your aunt's done a lot."
Jenn smiled. "She has. She practically raised me here when things got… complicated."
He nodded, though the unease in his chest wouldn't fade. He couldn't stop thinking about that file — and what his aunt had said: "These are birth and transfer records from twenty-one years ago."
Later that night, after Linda retired to her room, Jenn and Jeff stayed in the guest room. The lamp was dim, the air cool and still.
Jenn lay on one side of the bed, facing the window. "It's strange," she murmured. "Being here again. It feels like nothing's changed, but I have."
Jeff turned to her, his voice low. "Maybe that's a good thing. Change means you survived."
She looked over her shoulder, eyes soft. "And you? You don't look like someone who stays still either."
He chuckled quietly. "I try not to. Life's too short to keep still."
There was a pause — the kind that hums with quiet electricity.
Jenn shifted closer, her voice almost a whisper. "Jeff…"
"Yeah?"
Her hand brushed his arm — light, uncertain. "I don't know what's happening between us."
He smiled faintly. "You don't have to."
"I want to," she whispered.
His gaze softened. "Then maybe… stop thinking so much."
Their eyes held — and slowly, she leaned in.
The kiss was soft at first, hesitant, then deeper — full of everything they hadn't said.
His hand found the small of her back, hers curled into his shirt.
The air felt charged, trembling with something real.
Jenn's heart raced as she whispered against his lips, "Jeff…"
He kissed her again, deeper this time, pulling her closer — until—
knock knock.
They froze instantly.
"Jenn?" came Aunt Linda's voice, gentle but clear. "Sorry, dear. I forgot to ask if you needed an extra blanket. The nights get cold here."
Jenn sat up quickly, face burning. "N-no, Aunt, we're fine!"
"Oh, alright then. Sleep well, you two."
Footsteps faded. Silence fell again.
Jeff exhaled, running a hand over his face. "She has perfect timing."
Jenn laughed softly, still breathless. "Maybe it's a sign."
He looked at her — really looked — and smiled faintly. "Yeah. Or a warning."
She lay back down, eyes fluttering shut, whispering, "Goodnight, Jeff."
"Goodnight, Jenn."
But long after she drifted off, Jeff stayed awake — staring at the ceiling, his mind circling the hospital name again and again.
Whatever was buried in those files… he could feel it — it wasn't done with him yet.