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From the moment Samira first noticed Jack donating blood while still on shift, a quiet sense of awe settled inside her. It was a feeling that, even now, continued to catch up with her when she least expected it.
Still, nowhere in her carefully planned life had she ever considered the possibility of falling so completely in love, of ending up sharing a home with him.
And for the first time in a long while, she was no longer alone in an apartment filled with more boxes than furniture, more silence than memories, nothing close to the home she had grown up in.
For his part, Jack had always known, somewhere deep down, that he wanted this to work out exactly like this. Perhaps he had even prayed for it without realizing, hoping for the chance to experience love again beside the most intelligent woman he had ever met.
After years of believing life had only given him one chance, he had settled into being her quiet admirer, staying behind after his shifts just to watch her work, even when exhaustion threatened to pull him under.
There had been a mutual understanding between them, shaped by knowing what it meant to love and to lose. In the end, their hearts simply found their rhythm together, answering questions they had never quite dared to ask.
However it had happened no longer mattered. Now, Jack’s hazel eyes found hers across the table. Their bodies were separated by distance, yet their hands remained loosely intertwined halfway between them.
“Agreements and conditions... what a smart choice,” Jack comments, a faint smirk pulling softly at the corner of his lips.
“So… you agree? You don’t think it’s, I don’t know, too much?” Samira asks, biting lightly at her lower lip.
Jack shakes his head at once, bringing her hand closer to press a soft kiss to the back of it. “I think it’s natural, making a decision like moving in with someone.”
He lingers there for a moment, brushing another gentle kiss against her skin before continuing. “And it’s a change for both of us. Let’s be honest, we’ve both been on our own for a while.”
“… thank you,” Samira whispers, her shoulders finally loosening as she watches how certain he is. “It matters to me, and—”
Jack cuts her off with another small shake of his head. “It matters to me, too. If this helps you, then I’m all in.”
A small smile tugs at her mouth before she clears her throat softly. “Alright, then… can I ask you not to move my things from where I leave them?”
“… when I’m cleaning?” Jack asks, absently tracing circles over her knuckles before placing another light kiss there.
“I just have a system in my chaos,” she admits with a slight shrug, a little embarrassed. “At least leave them in a visible place.”
“As long as nothing ends up on the floor,” he counters gently, almost teasing.
She nods quickly, and he adds, almost as an afterthought, “I hate eating alone. So, could we at least share one meal a day?”
“Of course,” Samira answers right away, a soft smile forming. “Our schedules are opposite these months, but… maybe breakfast?”
“Perfect. You head to work with something in your stomach, and I go to sleep,” Jack agrees, his smile mirroring hers effortlessly.
They stay like that for a moment, quietly absorbed in each other. Samira notices the faint wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, while Jack watches the dimples appear on her cheeks.
He leans forward first, meeting her halfway across the table. Their lips brush in a slow, gentle kiss, unhurried. She tilts her head slightly, following the warmth of it, and feels him smiling against her mouth before they part.
Instead of pulling away completely, they both rest their elbows against the table, unwilling to break the moment.
“I’ve never lived with a partner before,” Samira admits softly, holding onto his gaze.
“Nothing bad is going to happen,” Jack murmurs in return. “We’ll take it slow.”
── ⋆⋅ ᶻ𝗓𐰁 ⋅⋆ ──
Of course, at the time Samira had nodded, completely in love and entirely won over by this wonderful man. Still, her first full night sleeping in the same bed as Jack turned out to be… unexpected.
They had never actually spent an entire night together before. Their schedules rarely aligned, and most of the time Samira would leave before Jack woke up, heading back to her apartment to get ready for her shift.
Other nights, Jack insisted it would be better for her to go home and get proper rest, even if it meant leaving in the middle of the night.
Now, in this moment, Samira understood why.
It was barely three in the morning on a Saturday, and it was the second time she had woken up to Jack’s restless movements, his body shifting uneasily beneath the sheets and his voice caught in quiet murmurs.
After the first time, she had already recognized it for what it was. Nightmares.
Without hesitation, Samira pushes herself upright, settling against the headboard as she reaches to switch on the lamp beside her.
“Jack…?” she murmurs, noticing how a thin layer of sweat clings to his freckled chest.
“Jack,” she tries again, more firmly this time, her hand resting on his shoulder as she gives him a gentle shake. “Hey… wake up.”
He does not respond. Instead, his body turns slightly, his back tensing as if pulled into discomfort.
Fear settles in her chest, and her touch becomes more insistent. “Jack!”
That finally does it as he jolts awake, disoriented with his gaze darting across the room until it lands on her face, illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp.
“…I’m sorry,” Jack whispers under his breath, sitting up and pressing a hand to his chest. “I’m sorry… I should have told you.”
Samira’s hand moves slowly along his arm until it rests over his hand, immediately noticing the rapid beat of his pulse beneath her fingers.
“You don’t have to apologize,” she assures him softly, her brown eyes steady on his. “You just scared me for a second. You looked so… afraid.”
“I had a rough shift yesterday,” Jack explains, trying to minimize it. “It happens when my brain connects something to the past.”
He glances at her, but she remains still, present, waiting. “I’m okay, alright?”
“… is this about the girl from the accident? The one who lost… her leg?” Samira asks carefully, even though she already knows.
“You can tell me,” she continued gently. “I can handle it… and I want to… I want to know.”
Jack lowers his gaze, watching as her fingers tighten slightly around his hand.
“Jack…” she murmurs, almost pleading, pressing a soft kiss against his back.
“…maybe,” he admits after a moment. “It’s just… memories. They come and go like it’s happening all over again.”
He turns his wrist, threading his fingers through hers.
Samira falls quiet, pressing her lips once more against his freckled skin and feels Jack lift his arm to wrap it around her shoulders, even as their fingers remain intertwined.
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” he repeats.
“You don’t scare me,” she replies, settling into the hollow of his neck. “Only your well being does.”
“…and you kicked me once, too,” she adds softly, earning a quiet laugh from him.
“Then I’m sorry for that as well,” he says, placing a gentle kiss on her temple. “…and thank you for waking me.”
“It’s nothing,” she whispers, so quietly it nearly disappears, though he still catches it.
Samira stays curled against him, bringing their joined hands to her lips for a soft kiss.
“If it happens again, I’ll wake you, okay?”
she asks, lifting her gaze to find his.
“I don’t want to bother you…” Jack begins, shaking his head.
“I will if it helps,” she insists.
He exhales, giving in, unable to refuse those big brown eyes. Jack just nods while pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.
Slowly they settle back down, sharing a brief and gentle kiss with their breathing gradually falling into sync. In the quiet darkness, once the lamp is turned off again, it becomes impossible to tell who leans in first for each lingering touch.
Jack allows himself to sink into the warmth beneath the sheets, drifting into sleep again, still holding onto her hand, feeling the slight pressure of her grip before he finally lets himself rest.
This time, the nightmares do not return.
Lately, they have begun to fade and when they do try to find their way back in, they never quite take hold, not the way they used to, because Samira is always there to wake him just in time.
── ⋆⋅ ☕︎ ⋅⋆ ──
When Samira had mentioned her “organized chaos,” what Jack had not expected in the slightest was the mess that slowly began to take over every corner of the house they shared.
There were half finished cups of tea or coffee with milk on nearly every surface, hair ties and claws clips wedged between the couch cushions, clothes carelessly draped over the armchair in what had once been a reading space, but had now turned into something closer to a makeshift laundry spot.
And the bathroom… Jack preferred not to think about it, not when he could already feel a faint twitch forming at the corner of his eye.
He tried not to interfere too much with her personal belongings, especially papers or anything important, leaving them exactly where she had placed them. Even so, there had to be some kind of line drawn when it came to cleaning.
Samira rushed through her mornings, pulling clothes out in a hurry, eating quickly, leaving behind a small trail of toothpaste and more hair ties as she got ready for her shift.
Jack, on the other hand, loved cleaning. He liked order, liked things neatly arranged in their place. So when he moved through the house with the vacuum, taking his time from one area to another so his stump would not start aching, it often turned into a sort of small scavenger hunt for whatever Samira had forgotten that day.
“Hey, there’s the most smart woman in the word,” Jack calls out when he sees her step inside, closing the door behind her.
Samira glances up, offering him a small smile as she slips off her shoes and places them beside his boots. Jack holds back his thoughts for the moment, watching as she shrugs off her denim jacket and lets it fall onto the couch before making her way toward him.
“Missed you…” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around his torso from behind and resting her chin lightly against his shoulder. “Thanks for the lunch. It was the best part of my day.”
Jack softens instantly, turning his head just enough to brush his nose gently against hers before pressing a brief and tender peck to her lips.
She leaves a quick kiss on his shoulder before pulling away, continuing her path toward the cabinet and reaching for a new mug without noticing the clean one already sitting on the counter.
“You can use that one, sweetheart,” Jack says, gesturing toward it with his chin.
Samira follows his gaze and lets out a quiet sigh. “I didn’t even see it,” she admits, placing the other mug back and taking the one he indicated.
“If it runs out of beans, could you refill it?” Jack asks, switching off the vacuum.
“Of course,” she replies, already opening the cabinet to take care of it without hesitation.
Jack sets the vacuum aside and moves to the couch, sitting down to remove his prosthetic. He pulls off the sock slowly, letting out a quiet breath of relief as he settles his stump beneath a cushion.
“I found three hair ties today,” he mentions, his tone light, more a reminder than a complaint. “I left them in that polka-dot case…?”
Samira walks over with two cups of coffee, handing one over carefully.
“Thank you,” she whispers softly as she settles beside him.
Jack dismisses it with a small gesture of his hand before taking a sip, then finally voicing what had clearly been on his mind. “…you leave cups everywhere.”
Samira blinks, caught off guard, setting her mug down on the coffee table. “What?”
“They end up on every surface,” he explains calmly. “Sometimes half full. You just… forget about them.”
The realization hits her all at once. She immediately covers her face with both hands, completely mortified.
“I’m sorry… God, I hadn’t even noticed, I swear,” she murmurs, her voice muffled as heat rushes up to her cheeks. “Sorry…”
“I know,” Jack says gently, setting his own cup aside as he places his hands on her shoulders. “I know it’s not intentional.”
“And you’ve been finding them and cleaning them,” she adds, still hiding.
“I don’t mind it,” he reassures her. “But… maybe we could just keep them in one place? I almost broke one the other day.”
“…okay,” she nods quickly, drawing her legs up to her chest as if trying to fold into herself. “Yeah, totally…”
“Hey,” Jack murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s alright. It’s just a habit. Same as the claws and the hair ties.”
Samira lets out a soft, embarrassed groan. “I’m so sorry…”
“I don’t want to break anything that’s yours,” he continues gently. “So maybe leave them on the coffee table if you don’t have time to wash them?”
“Jack,” she interrupts, lowering her hands and lifting her head to meet his eyes. “Hate me. I’m terrible.”
He lets out a quiet laugh, cupping her face between his hands. “You’re not.”
“You’re busy. You put so much of yourself into your work, into your articles, into everything you do…” His voice softens, slipping into that familiar tone of quiet admiration she recognizes immediately.
“I’m still being annoying,” she insists.
Jack shakes his head, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of her nose before pulling back just enough to look at her, completely and undeniably in love.
“You’re not a burden,” he says simply. “And it won’t become one if we handle it together.”
“I’ll leave them on the coffee table. Or I’ll wash them right away. I won’t forget,” Samira promises quickly.
“I believe you.”
He leans in, stealing another quick kiss and she melts into it instantly, her hands sliding from his back to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through his graying curls as the kiss deepens. It is slower this time, softer, their mouths moving together without urgency.
“I’ll leave you a note on the fridge,” Jack murmurs against her lips before kissing her again.
Samira responds without hesitation, shifting instinctively closer, settling into his lap as she draws him in even more.
And from then on, every time she finds herself about to leave a cup behind, the memory of that moment runs down her spine, enough to make her pause and wash it on the spot rather than leave it for Jack.
── ⋆⋅ ✉︎ ⋅⋆ ──
The notes on the refrigerator were not limited to the one about the cups. There were several more, some of a similar nature, others not, many of them written by Jack.
He would leave them after coming back from his shifts, especially when he found Samira asleep on the couch waiting for him, adding small reminders that he had brought food for her or that next time she should be in bed, properly tucked in and warm.
They ranged from notes placed right in the middle of the fridge that read “I’ll be home late” to “Hey, sleepy girl… don’t do that anymore” when he found her asleep again on the couch, the TV still on with Netflix asking if she was still watching.
Sometimes the Post-its appeared in different places, stuck to food containers to let her know he had prepared something just for her, or on the bathroom mirror while she showered, with a playful comment about how beautiful she looked that day.
Samira kept every single one of them, storing them in her improvised memory box. Inside, there were photos of her father from her teenage years, the first movie ticket she had kept with Mel, and now these small moments with Jack, captured in those little notes.
Without a doubt, they brought a smile to her face in the middle of her rest, just from knowing that someone cared enough to make sure she had eaten.
They also showed up tucked into forgotten objects, with a simple “I think this belongs to you ;)”, something that lately had managed to pull a embarrassed, but fond smile from her.
She had even found those yellow rectangles among her research papers, praising her intellect or encouraging her to keep going.
It was like having him with her, even when their schedules did not align. Samira knew that Jack had thought of her and had wanted her to know it.
Before she realized it, they had started sharing the same note, using it to coordinate their schedules, arranging a moment in the middle of the day to eat together at least once, just as they had promised.
And it was not the only thing they began to share.
Since moving into the spacious house on the outskirts, surrounded by a wooded landscape visible through the large windows that framed the walls, their lives had started to blend into one another.
The spaces were decorated with dark oak furniture from the Abbot family, couches that invited you to sink into them, and Persian rugs from Samira’s recent
obsession.
Their belongings began to overlap in the bathroom as well. Hair creams, curl activators, products that no longer mattered who had bought them in the first place, all carrying a coconut scent between their curls as they used the same mask.
It became an essential comfort each time their bodies met under the shower, at the beginning or end of a shift, Jack’s fingertips massaging Samira’s scalp.
Or afterward, when Samira stepped out, covering herself only with her panties and one of Jack’s old band shirts from his medical schooldays. Even on nights when she missed him more than usual, it was his boxers between her legs under the sheets of a bed that felt too large for one person alone.
── ⋆⋅ 𖠿 ⋅⋆ ──
Objects stop being individual as their intimacy grows, and both begin to seek each other’s presence in every small detail. Samira slips into his denim jacket as she leaves her shift with the wind brushing against her as the sun begins to set, while Jack borrows a notebook or a pen she had bought, just to carry a small piece of her with him.
Jack’s mandatory medical kit has gained additions to his usual medication for phantom pain, including bandages and allergy painkillers, along with band-aids and sanitary wipes.
Even then, both carry small items for the other in their pockets. Samira keeps a lighter in case Jack wants to smoke during their walks through the city, outside a restaurant. Jack wears a hair tie around his wrist, ready to braid her hair when the wind tousles her curls. Car keys end up tucked into the back pocket of her jeans, and Samira’s purse hangs from Jack’s shoulder.
They have learned to share silence in the middle of a free morning, Jack focused on crosswords while Samira reads the news. They move automatically, he pouring milk into her coffee without asking, she spreading jam on his toast, without saying anything at all.
Even when both are exhausted and meet somewhere in the hospital, Jack hands her a cereal bar in passing, or Samira brings him a coffee up to the rooftop. It often ends with the two of them watching the sunrise, not needing words to communicate, a single look was enough.
Like when the humidity affects Jack’s leg and Samira helps with lymphatic massages, or when Jack simply… looks into her eyes.
“You’re exhausted.” he says, folding his arms as he steps in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.
“What? No, of course not.” Samira replies, trying to brush past him. “I have things to do and…”
“Take a break. Five seconds.” Jack states firmly, gesturing toward the door of the break room with his chin. “Come on, tough girl.”
Samira lets out a quiet huff under her breath, knowing that if she refuses he will keep hovering over her. She gives in, finally slumping down, the drop in energy softened by a piece of chocolate he has been saving for her.
“You did excellent today.” Jack assures her, taking a seat across from her. “More than excellent. I think they should invent a bigger word just for you.”
“Just for me?” Samira replies, amused, allowing herself another bite of the chocolate.
“Just for you.” Jack confirms with a wink.
However, there were still days when both of them had so much to share, and for the first time in her life Samira was in the presence of someone with whom conversation never seemed to run out.
For Jack, who hated being alone, he was always delighted to be her intellectual companion, helping her with whatever she needed or simply being her boyfriend, adding witty remarks as they watched some stupid television show.
More than once, Samira ended up sitting on the toilet lid while Jack showered, unable to stop talking.
“And then I requested the proper exam because… let’s be honest, that was not just a simple migraine!” Samira says, almost exhilarated. “And it turned out it could have been fatal if I had let her go home like the others suggested.”
“Always trust your instinct.” she hears Jack’s voice say from behind the curtain. “Great work, Doctor Mohan.”
She holds back a small smile, lightly biting her lower lip before remembering something else and continuing. “Oh! And you’ll never guess who’s pregnant…”
Samira simply cannot help it. She does not know if it is because Jack is such a good listener, always attentive and asking the right questions at the right time with genuine interest, but there is something about him that makes her feel completely at ease sharing everything, from gossip to philosophical thoughts and… even speaking about her father.
But the most important thing they have come to share after these months of living together, between nightmares, misplaced objects, and notes scattered everywhere, is the life they are beginning to build together.
For the first time after years of loneliness, both of them have been able to call it home again, even more so when Jack took pride in sharing Samira’s last name, becoming Abbot Mohan when they both said “I do” at the same time.