I nodded, honesty escaping my lips before I could stop it. “A little,” I admitted. “This is all so new for me.”

James smiled, his expression one of understanding. “It’s new for both of us,” he confessed. “But we can figure it out together, can’t we?”

There was something comforting in his words, a promise of companionship that I had longed for during the lonely nights of my past. Yet, as I glanced at his leg, still aware of the limp that had accompanied him since his youth, I realized there was more to this journey than mere companionship.

As the night wore on, we talked—about our childhoods, our dreams, and the little things that made us who we are. James spoke of his love for fixing things, the satisfaction he found in solving problems and bringing broken items back to life. I shared tales of my adventures, the places I had seen, and the stories I had gathered along the way.