Lisa lay back against the pillows in Jennie's cabin, her body still weak but her mind racing. The world she had left behind seemed so distant now, like a fading memory. Here she was, stranded on an island with a girl who had been living in isolation for years. It was surreal, yet oddly grounding.
Jennie moved about the cabin with practiced ease, her every action purposeful and efficient. Lisa watched her in silence, trying to piece together the life this girl had built for herself. There was something almost ethereal about Jennie—like she was a figure out of time, belonging more to the wild than to the world Lisa knew.
"Thank you," Lisa said finally, breaking the silence. Her voice was stronger now, though still tinged with exhaustion. "For saving me."
Jennie looked over her shoulder and smiled softly. "You don't need to thank me. It's just what you do when someone needs help."
Lisa chuckled lightly. "Not in my world. Where I come from, people only help if there's something in it for them."
Jennie paused, her expression thoughtful. "That sounds... difficult. Lonely."
Lisa nodded, her gaze distant. "It can be. But it's the only world I've ever known."
Jennie set down the bowl she was holding and walked over to Lisa, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You're not alone here, Lisa. Whatever brought you to this island... you don't have to face it by yourself."
The sincerity in Jennie's voice caught Lisa off guard. She had spent so much of her life building walls around herself, protecting her heart from the betrayals and disappointments that had come her way. But here, with Jennie, those walls felt unnecessary—almost burdensome.
"I'm not used to relying on others," Lisa admitted, her voice softening. "I've always had to be strong, to take care of myself."
Jennie reached out and placed a comforting hand on Lisa's arm. "You don't have to be strong all the time. It's okay to let someone else in, to let them help you."
Lisa looked into Jennie's eyes and saw nothing but kindness and understanding. It was a rare thing for her, to be looked at without judgment or expectation. She felt a warmth spreading through her, easing the tension she hadn't even realized she was holding.
"I don't even know where to start," Lisa said with a small, self-deprecating laugh. "My life... it's complicated."
Jennie smiled gently. "We'll take it one step at a time. You can start by telling me about your world. What's it like?"
Lisa hesitated, searching for the right words. "It's fast. Everything moves at lightning speed, and if you can't keep up, you get left behind. I run a company—a big one. There's always pressure, always someone breathing down your neck, expecting more."
Jennie listened intently, trying to imagine the world Lisa described. It was so different from her own, yet she could sense the weight of it, the burden that Lisa carried. "That sounds exhausting."
"It is," Lisa admitted. "But it's all I know. I've spent my whole life trying to prove myself, to show that I'm not just a name or a title. But sometimes, it feels like no matter what I do, it's never enough."
Jennie frowned slightly, her heart aching for Lisa. "You don't have to prove anything to me. I see you for who you are, not what you've done or where you come from."
Lisa felt a lump form in her throat at Jennie's words. She wasn't used to this kind of acceptance—unconditional and pure. It was almost too much to process, but at the same time, it was exactly what she needed.
"Thank you," Lisa whispered, her voice barely audible. "I... I don't know how to repay you."
Jennie shook her head. "You don't need to repay me. Just focus on getting better, and when you're ready, we'll figure out what comes next."
Lisa nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. For the first time in a long while, she didn't feel the crushing weight of expectations bearing down on her. Here, in this small cabin on a forgotten island, she could just be Lisa—no titles, no responsibilities, no facade.
A comfortable silence settled between them, the sounds of the island filling the space. Jennie rose and returned to her tasks, leaving Lisa to her thoughts. Despite the strangeness of her situation, Lisa felt a peace she hadn't known in years.
As the day wore on, Lisa's strength gradually returned. By late afternoon, she was able to sit up on her own, the colour returning to her cheeks. Jennie noticed the improvement and offered her a small bowl of freshly grilled fish and fruit.
"Eat," Jennie said kindly. "You need your strength."
Lisa took the bowl gratefully, the smell of the food making her realize just how hungry she was. She ate slowly, savouring each bite. "This is good," she said between mouthfuls.
Jennie smiled, pleased. "I've had a lot of practice. When you're alone, you learn to fend for yourself."
Lisa's expression grew thoughtful as she continued eating. "You've done more than just fend for yourself, Jennie. You've built a life here—a home. It's... impressive."
Jennie shrugged modestly. "It's just what I had to do to survive."
"But it's more than that," Lisa insisted. "You've created something out of nothing. That takes strength, courage... and a lot of heart."
Jennie blushed slightly, not used to receiving such praise. "Thank you. But I've had help, too. The animals here... they've become my friends, my family in a way."
Lisa nodded, understanding. "It's funny... I never thought I'd find something like that here. But I think maybe... I've found a friend in you."
Jennie's smile widened, her heart swelling with warmth. "And I've found a friend in you, too, Lisa."
They sat together, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing moment. Despite their vastly different lives, they were kindred spirits—two people who had faced their battles and come out the other side, scarred but still standing.
As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the island, Lisa felt a sense of hope she hadn't felt in years. She didn't know what the future held, but she knew one thing for certain: she wasn't alone anymore.
And for now, that was enough.
