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Hugo

T he sound of the cane tapping softly against the polished floor reached him before he turned the corner. And there she was. He would have recognized her anywhere—the straight line of her posture, her clothes, all black as usual, that soft caramel-colored hair pulled into a ponytail, the deliberate precision in the way she moved. But the cane was unmistakable too, sweeping gently in front of her as she crossed the bustling hallway of the gendarmerie .

“Jo? What are you doing here?”

She stopped mid-step, tilting her head slightly in his direction. Dark sunglasses covered her beautiful blue eyes today.

“Hugo. I came to see Isolde, to talk about a session we are organizing together. I was just leaving.”

He nodded instinctively, then remembered she couldn’t see that. “Right, I—” He faltered, his hands gesturing in a way that felt ridiculous under her unseen gaze. “I wasn’t expecting… you.”

Jo adjusted her grip on the cane. The faintest smile curled her lips. “Surprise.”

“I’m glad I caught you,” he said.

Her lower lip quivered for an instant. Then stilled. “Well. I’ll see you around.”

Don’t let her leave. Something’s wrong. “Hey. Jo. What’s going on?”

She shook her head quickly. “Nothing. I think I’m running late.”

“Jo? Please take off your glasses.” He knew her eyes were sensitive. There were so many reasons she could be wearing dark sunglasses, but he had to see her face.

“No,” she said, holding the cane in front of her like protection.

“Please.”

She sighed. One of her hands went up to her face to remove the glasses. “There. Happy?”

Not happy . Her eyes were red, as if she’d spent the night crying.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t bullshit me, okay?”

“Fine. Nothing you can help with.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

Jo lowered her voice. “I’m not doing this in front of all your colleagues.”

“There’s nobody here but us,” he said impatiently. “But we can go outside, if you prefer. I’m on my lunch break.”

Jo nodded. “Outside is good.”

The air outside was crisp, carrying the faint, earthy scent of the river. He kept pace with her, matching the deliberate rhythm of her steps as her cane tapped softly against the sidewalk. At the bridge, she slowed, then stopped.

“This is a nice spot,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “So close to town, but so quiet.”

“Yeah,” he said, glancing at the way her expression softened. “I come here sometimes to clear my head. You know, when things get complicated.”

“Complicated.” She repeated the word like it was an old friend. “That about sums up everything right now.”

He stopped, turning slightly to face her. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on? Or are we just going to walk around in circles while you keep me guessing?”

Her lips curled up in what he could see was an attempt at a smile, but her lips were quivering, and she was moments away from tears. “My visa was denied. I have thirty days to leave France. And, before, you ask, going back to the U.S. isn’t an option for me now.”

He frowned, his mind already racing through possibilities. “Why can’t you go back?”

Her grip on the cane tightened. “It’s… complicated.”

“Jo,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “I’m going to need a little more to go on.”

She hesitated, her lips pressing together in thought. Sunlight glanced off the river, reflecting in her dark sunglasses. Finally, she spoke, her voice quieter, vulnerable. “There’s someone looking for me back home. If I go back, I’ll be putting myself—and others—at risk.”

Rage filled him. That somebody wanted to hurt her. That somebody had the power to scare her like this. He pushed the rage back, knowing he could call it back on command, but sensing now was the time to listen and remain calm.

He studied her, noting the way her shoulders tensed, how her chin lifted just slightly as if daring him to question her.

“Okay,” he said simply.

“Okay?” she echoed, a flicker of disbelief in her tone.

“Yeah. Okay. You can appeal it, Jo. I’ll help you,” he said, his voice steady.

She walked on, and he followed, once again easily matching her rhythm. Eventually, she broke the silence. “It’s not just the visa.”

“Okay,” he said again, sensing the weight in her tone.

She hesitated, her lips pressing into a tight, pained line. The tapping of her cane slowed as they reached a quieter stretch of the path.

“It’s…” She paused, taking a breath. “It’s a lot more complicated than that.”

He stopped walking, turning to face her. “I can handle complicated.”

Jo tilted her head slightly, as if weighing his words. “I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air, stark and unadorned. He blinked, caught off guard. “You’re?—”

“Pregnant,” she repeated, her grip on the cane tightening. “With a baby.”

“Okay. So… that’s a lot. Does the father know?”

Her shoulders stiffened. “I wrote to him yesterday. He’s … not interested. But that’s okay. It was—” She stopped, her jaw tightening. “It was a one-night thing, two and a half months ago. My only one-night thing since coming to France, if you must know. And we used protection. Obviously, it wasn’t enough.”

Hugo placed his hands on her shoulders lightly, so he’d know she was there, before pulling her into a hug. “Hey. Jo. Stop. Breathe. You don’t have to explain all this.”

“I’m just trying to explain myself. You must think?—”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking, Jo.” He paused. “Is that all?”

A laugh bubbled out of her. “Yes. That’s about all. I’m pregnant, and in thirty days I will have no health insurance, and no legal right to stay in the country.”

Hugo nodded slowly, absorbing her words. “Alright.”

“Thanks for listening, Hugo. I guess I didn’t realize … how much I needed to tell someone.”

The idea came to him almost immediately, and with it a certainty that everything was as it should, that everything happened for a reason. But out here in the middle of the street wasn’t the place to share it with her.

“Where are you heading?” he asked. “Home, or to your office?”

“To the office. Madame Lagarde will be wondering where I am.”

“Ah, yes. We know how she feels about people who are a few minutes late.”

“You’ve kind of made up for it by now, you know? I think she rather likes you now,” Jo said, smiling.

They walked on, the silence between them lighter now, until the crossroads came in sight. “Can I come inside with you? Just for a few minutes?” he asked. A part of him wished he could wait, plan this conversation better. But time wasn’t in their favor.

“Sure.” She pressed a button on her phone and listened to the time. “I have half an hour before my next patient.”

“That’s enough.” It would have to be enough. He said hello to Madame Lagarde, noting her gaze seemed marginally less cold than the last time he’d been here. “I do think I’m growing on her,” he whispered to Jo once they’d closed the door to her office. They settled on the same armchairs they’d once sat in as doctor and patient, though everything was different between them, now.

“Tell me, Hugo. Is it about the nightmares? Even if I’m not your therapist anymore, I can still suggest?—”

“No. I have an idea.”

“An idea?”

“I have great health insurance,” he said.

Jo’s mouth opened lightly in surprise. “So you should. You and your team do important work.”

Hugo nodded impatiently. This was harder than he’d imagined. “No. I mean I have great health insurance. And you would, too, if you married me.”

Jo sputtered. “Marry you?”

“Yes. Marry me.”

“You’re insane.”

“Actually, I’m not. It would solve both your problems in one. Faire d'une pierre deux coups , as we would say here.”

“I don’t know what that means.” She sounded vaguely dazed.

“I think you would probably say kill two birds with one stone.”

“Why would you do that?”

“You know I like you. I haven’t made a secret of it. And I think you like me, too. Why shouldn’t two people who like each other do something that makes sense?”

Her small hands clenched into fists on her lap. “You think you can just stroll in and solve all my problems?”

“I think we can solve these two, together,” he said, his voice low.

“And what do you want in exchange?” Jo’s tone was sharp, defensive, with an edge of vulnerability to it that made him want to take her in his arms again. But he knew that wasn’t the answer. She had to decide for herself.

“Nothing. I’m not bartering.”

She shook her head, her grip tightening on the cane that rested against her leg. “People don’t just offer something like that for free, Hugo. There’s always a catch.”

“There’s no catch,” he said softly. “I care about you. I respect you. I know the reason you’re not going home is serious, even if you’re not yet willing to tell me exactly what’s going on. And I don’t want to see you pushed into a corner because of some bureaucratic nonsense or an accident of biology.”

Her laugh was short, disbelieving. “An accident of biology? That’s a nice way to put it.”

Hugo shrugged. “It’s the truth. None of this is your fault. But it’s happening, and you need help. I can help. That’s all. Marry me. Let’s solve your immigration problems. You’ll take my health insurance and have the baby.”

Jo tilted her head slightly, as though trying to read him, even though she couldn’t see his face. “You’re serious.”

“Completely.”

She leaned back in her chair, her posture rigid. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Say you’ll think about it,” he said simply. “Look, I get it—this isn’t how anyone imagines their life going. But sometimes, life throws curveballs. And sometimes, the solution to those curveballs isn’t conventional. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

“You’re asking me to marry you. Out of the blue. For my visa. And health insurance.” Her voice cracked slightly. “You’re acting like this is simple.”

“Not simple,” he admitted. “But not impossible, either. Think about it.”

“And then we’ll get a divorce?”

He took a deep breath. “If that’s what you want, yes.”

“I don’t … I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I don’t understand why you’d want to be saddled with something that isn’t your problem.” He didn’t bother replying to that. For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint ticking of the wall clock. Jo exhaled slowly, her fingers uncurling from the tight fists they’d been clenched into. “You make it sound so logical.”

“Because it is logical,” Hugo said with a faint smile. “Start with this,” he said, leaning forward again, placing his larger hand gently on hers. “You don’t have to decide right now. Just… let it sit. And know that I mean it.”

Her hand hovered over her belly, as if protecting the small, fragile life inside her. “You’re crazy,” she said again, but her voice had softened.

“Maybe,” he said, leaning back with a faint grin. “But I think it’s a really good idea.”

She shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips despite everything. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been called worse,” he said lightly, though his eyes never left her face. “Just think about it, okay?”