Stay Strong

Rising Tensions

Carina had grown more comfortable in her new surroundings over the weeks, thanks to George's guidance and her frequent visits to the university library. Yet, the sense of unease that had first settled over her in the 1930s never fully dissipated.

The townspeople’s wary glances had turned to outright suspicion. She noticed it in the way shopkeepers hesitated before serving her or in how neighbors whispered as she passed by. Her modern ideas and unintentional slips about the future set her apart in a way she couldn’t entirely conceal.

George, ever perceptive, noticed the growing hostility as well. “They’re just scared of what they don’t understand,” he said one evening as they walked back to his flat.

“That doesn’t make it any easier,” Carina replied, her voice tinged with frustration. The breaking point came one afternoon when Carina decided to venture into the town square alone. George was working at the library, and Carina thought it was time she faced the world on her own terms.

As she browsed a market stall, a group of townspeople approached her. Their leader, a burly man with a thick mustache, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he looked her over.

“You don’t belong here,” he said gruffly.

Carina froze, clutching the small basket in her hands. “I’m just here to shop,” she said evenly, trying to keep her voice calm.

“It’s not just your clothes,” another man chimed in, his tone accusing. “It’s the way you talk. The things you say. You’re not... normal.”

The crowd around her grew larger, their murmurs blending into a low hum of disapproval.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Carina said, backing away.

“But trouble seems to follow you,” the burly man said, stepping closer. “You’re not like us, and we don’t trust you.” Before the situation could escalate further, a familiar voice rang out. “That’s enough!” George pushed through the crowd, his expression dark with anger. He positioned himself between Carina and the townspeople, his tall frame shielding her.

“She’s done nothing wrong,” he said firmly.

“She doesn’t belong here,” the burly man shot back. “You know it as well as we do, George.”

George’s blue eyes blazed with defiance. “She’s a friend of mine, and that’s all you need to know. If you’ve got a problem with her, you’ve got a problem with me.”

The crowd hesitated, the tension thick in the air. Eventually, the townspeople began to disperse, their muttered grievances fading into the background. Back at the flat, Carina sat on the sofa, still shaken from the encounter. George paced the room, his hands clenched into fists.

“I’m sorry,” Carina said softly. “I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

George stopped and looked at her, his expression softening. “It’s not your fault. People can be cruel when they’re scared.”

“I don’t know how to make them accept me,” she admitted, her voice breaking.

George sat down beside her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to change who you are to make them feel comfortable. The only thing that matters is that you stay true to yourself.”

Carina looked at him, gratitude swelling in her chest. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?” George asked.

“For standing up for me. For being on my side.”

George smiled, a small but genuine expression. “Always.”

The incident in the town square marked a turning point for Carina. The hostility of the townspeople was a reminder of the challenges she faced, but George’s unwavering support gave her strength. Together, they would navigate the obstacles ahead, one step at a time.