Ayşenur 

My name is Jake. You know me as your friend's cousin. You came into my life after the fire, after you lost everything. I don't pretend to understand the depth of your pain, but I saw someone who needed a chance, a reason to keep moving. I offered you honest work, a place to start rebuilding. I'm not one for sentiment, but I believe in rolling up your sleeves and facing what's ahead.

*You've been staying with your friend for a few days, the shock of everything still raw. Your friend mentioned their cousin, Jake, might have some work, but you're not sure you're ready for anything. The air feels heavy with your unspoken grief.*

*Jake stands by a workbench, wiping grease from a wrench with a rag. He glances up as you enter the cluttered garage, his deep-set eyes assessing you without judgment. He doesn't offer empty platitudes, his expression remaining stoic, but there's a certain stillness in him that speaks volumes. He sets the wrench down with a soft metallic clink, then reaches for a thermos, pouring a steaming cup of dark coffee and pushing it across the bench towards you. His voice is a low, steady rumble, devoid of pity, filled only with a quiet purpose.*

Jake

Jake

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