“Carla Makes a Situation Worse (Again)”

Carla hadn’t meant to climb the fence.

It simply felt like the faster option at the time, which was usually how her problems began.

By the time Jace caught up, she was already halfway over, one leg hooked at an angle that defied both balance and dignity, her hoodie caught on the metal like it had decided to end the situation itself.

He stopped a few steps back and took her in without a word, the kind of long, tired look that suggested he had seen this outcome coming the moment she said, “I have an idea.”

“Tell me,” he said slowly, “why you are suspended in the air like a warning sign.”

Carla twisted, trying to free herself, which only tightened the fabric further. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. You are stuck.”

“I’m adjusting.”

“You’re negotiating with a fence and losing.”

She pulled again. The metal let out a low groan that seemed to echo a warning.

Both of them stilled.

Carla glanced over her shoulder. “Did that sound expensive?”

Jace exhaled through his nose, gaze fixed on the fence. “Everything about this feels expensive.”

“Okay,” she said, thinking fast, “I’m just going to commit.”

His head tilted slightly, disbelief settling in. “That is the worst choice you could have chosen.”

Before he could step in, she yanked hard.

The hoodie tore with a sharp, final sound, and she dropped to the other side in a heap that looked painful even from a distance.

For a moment, she stayed there, gathering herself, then pushed up and brushed her hands off as though the ground had personally wronged her.

“I meant to do that,” she said, lifting her chin.

Jace remained where he was, his gaze shifting from her to the strip of fabric still clinging to the fence before returning to her again.

“You left evidence.”

“It’s fashion,” she replied. “Distressed.”

“It’s not distressed. It’s defeated.”

She glanced back at the torn sleeve and gave a small nod, as if she could respect the effort. “It gave everything it had.”

Jace closed his eyes briefly before opening them again, regret settling in deeper. “Why didn’t you use the gate.”

Carla turned her head.

Looked to the side.

At the clearly visible, completely open gate.

Silence settled between them.

She looked back at him with absolute seriousness. “That felt too obvious.”

He studied her, searching for a crack in her certainty.

He found none.

“You saw an open entrance,” he said carefully, “and decided it was suspicious.”

“Yes.”

“So you chose the obstacle with spikes.”

“They weren’t that bad.”

“You are bleeding.”

She looked down at her hand as if noticing it for the first time. “Oh. That explains the sting.”

“That explains the sting,” he repeated, slower now, each word carrying weight.

Carla wiped her hand on her jeans without concern. “It’s fine. We’re here.”

“We are not here,” he said. “We are leaving.”

“We can’t leave. My bag is inside.”

“You said it was your phone.”

“It’s also my bag.”

Jace tipped his head back slightly, as though appealing to something far beyond the moment.

“They’re multiplying,” he muttered. “The objectives are multiplying.”

Carla had already started walking. He followed through the gate, choosing movement over standing there questioning his life choices.

“Carla,” he called, catching up, “this crosses several lines.”

“This is commitment.”

“This is how people get escorted out.”

“This is how people get their belongings back.”

“You had the option of asking.”

“I prefer initiative.”

He slowed for a second, watching her continue forward without hesitation. “You prefer chaos.”

She glanced back over her shoulder. “Same thing, different branding.”

A quiet sound left him, carrying far too much acceptance.

She stopped abruptly.

Jace nearly walked into her, catching himself at the last second.

“What now,” he asked, already bracing.

Carla pointed.

Jace followed her gaze to the sign.

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Then, slowly, they both looked up.

The camera blinked red.

Watching.

The moment stretched, heavy with realization.

Carla lifted her hand and gave a small, polite wave.

Jace’s head dipped forward slightly, as if something inside him had simply given up.

“You acknowledged it,” he said, voice hollow. “You made contact with the problem.”

“I didn’t want it to think I was acting strange.”

“You are climbing fences and trespassing.”

“Exactly. I needed to balance that out.”

“With manners,” he said.

“Yes.”

He let out a quiet breath, long and controlled, the kind that suggested effort rather than calm.

“I am experiencing a level of stress that feels personal.”

Carla patted his arm once before stepping past him. “You’re doing great.”

“I am not doing great.”

“You’re holding it together.”

“I am barely assembled.”

She smiled, already moving toward the bench ahead. “That’s still together.”

He followed again.

Of course he did.

Carla reached the bench and grabbed the bag sitting on it, lifting it with a small sense of victory.

“Got it.”

Jace slowed beside her. “Let me see.”

She looked down.

Paused.

Then turned the bag slightly, examining it.

Another pause.

“This,” she said carefully, “is not my bag.”

Jace stared at her.

Something shifted in his expression, quieter than frustration and heavier than irritation. A slow, dawning disbelief settled in.

“We climbed a fence,” he said, voice steady, “you lost a sleeve, greeted a camera, and crossed into private property… for an item that does not belong to you.”

Carla considered that.

“It’s a nice bag.”

His head tilted, just slightly. “Put it down.”

She hesitated.

“Carla.”

She placed it back with visible reluctance.

A quiet beat passed.

Then—

“Wait.”

Jace didn’t move. “No.”

“I think—”

“No.”

She reached into her pocket anyway, pulling out her phone and holding it up between them.

They both looked at it.

The realization settled quietly.

Jace blinked once.

Slowly.

“You had it,” he said.

Carla looked at the phone, then back at him. “…it appears so.”

Silence stretched.

Then Jace laughed.

It started low, almost under his breath, before building into something sharper, edged with disbelief and resignation.

“I am rethinking every decision that led me here,” he said, running a hand over his face.

Carla slipped her arm through his like nothing had happened. “You say that a lot.”

“And every time,” he replied, letting out a breath that almost sounded like defeat, “it becomes more valid.”

She guided him back toward the gate, entirely unbothered. “You’re still here, though.”

He didn’t answer right away.

He walked beside her, gaze forward, shoulders tense in a way that had clearly settled in long before today.

Then, after a moment—

“That’s because someone has to witness this,” he said.

Carla smiled.

“Support system,” she corrected.

He let out a quiet exhale. “I am not support. I am documentation.”

“Same thing.”

“It is not the same thing.”

She tightened her hold on his arm as they stepped out through the gate.

“You love it.”

“I don’t,” he said immediately.

She gave him a look.

He hesitated.

Then sighed.

“…I tolerate you.”

Her smile widened. “That’s basically love.”

Jace shook his head, though he didn’t pull away.

And he didn’t leave.