A calm knock at the door broke the silence.
Ron stood and opened it.
A beautiful woman stood there, a gentle breeze lifting strands of her long black hair across her face. She tucked them back nervously. Her eyes were calm, but a flicker of anxiety met his gaze. She was holding a large suitcase.
"Ron?" she said.
Ron recognized her—the doctor who had been looking after that little girl, Ron always visits.
"Yes... and you're Carter's sister?" Ron says.
"Yes, I am… Ava." She replies.
Silence stretched between them.
She wasn't flashy, nor strikingly beautiful—just soft, calm, composed. The presence of someone used to healing others.
"Come in, please," Ron said and took her suitcase.
Ava hesitated, remembering Carter's words at the hospital
"He lost his family, and he has no one. I want you to take care of him. He'll protect you with his life. But I want you to take care of him too. He acts fine, but his eyes tell a different story. Ava, I'm asking this as your older brother… please, take care of him."
She exhaled slowly, stepping into the house carefully, as though it were a stranger's home, not her husband's.
Her gaze roamed the silent living room, the empty walls, the untouched furniture. The air felt heavy, carrying grief.
"I've heard about Carter from time to time," she said, swallowing. "He told me about the situation. I'm sorry… this was forced on you."
"It wasn't forced," Ron said calmly. He wasn't lying. He had chosen this—for Dream.
Ava nodded, eyes lowered.
"A… I know this is strange. And sudden. I don't expect anything from you. I'm not here as a wife—just… someone who needs help." She blushed faintly.
"I understand," Ron said, his gaze softening briefly.
She looked around again, and her eyes fell on a family photo on the shelf—Dream and the two little girls.
Ava's breath caught. Her expression shifted as she understood.
"Dream… I've never seen her, only heard about her. She's… beautiful," she thought.
"You've lost… a lot," she murmured.
Ron said nothing. Just looked at her for a second.
Ava placed her hand over her chest, steadying herself.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."
"You're not intruding," Ron finally replied.
Her eyes lifted to his—gentle, empathetic, yet strong. Strength born from healing others every day.
"Let me show you to your room," Ron said.
"My… room?" Ava blinked.
Ron paused. "Unless you want to share."
"No!" she blurted, then flushed. "I—I mean no, that's okay. Separate is fine. For now."
Ron smiled at her awkwardness and led her down the hallway. She followed quietly.
"This was a guest room," Ron said, opening a door.
Ava stepped inside. It was clean, simple, and cold.
"This is good," she said softly. "Thank you."
"If you need anything, tell me," Ron replied putting her suitcase near bed.
Ava hesitated. "Ron… may I ask something?"
"Ask."
Her gaze met his, tired yet quietly brave. "Why did you agree?"
Ron's throat tightened. Dream's smile flashed in his mind: "Ron… help others, no matter the situation."
He looked at Ava, at her quiet courage and uncertainty.
"Because I promised someone," he said.
Ava seemed to understand, even without knowing the full story.
"Then I'll do my best not to disappoint you," she said softly.
Ron turned toward the door, but stopped.
"Ava."
She looked up.
"You're safe here. I will keep you safe. No matter what."
Her eyes widened slightly, surprised by the promise. Then she nodded, relief washing over her features.
"Goodnight, Ron."
"Goodnight."
Ron walked away, his steps slow.
Behind him, Ava gently closed the door and placed her suitcase on the bed.
Both of them knew this wasn't a love story.
Not yet.
Not even close.
But it was the beginning of something neither of them had expected.