I thought about it.

It wasn’t a bad offer. I couldn’t see a reason to refuse, except that accepting such kindness might create an obligation I would later find myself trapped by.

I was considering turning him down when he said, “There are no strings attached. You were kind enough to come here today even though you weren’t required to, because of Ezi.”

I agreed.

A few days later, I had a car again.

A fairly long time passed after Sina’s departure, and I heard nothing from him.

I missed Ezi, the child who hardly spoke and whom I couldn’t even see anymore. I wanted Sina to come back too.

Little by little, I even became worried.

The very first day I returned home in my own car, Sina came back from his trip and took his car back.

I was surprised that he had returned on exactly the same day.

I wondered whether the whole story had been a lie.

When he came to collect his car, he asked, “Are you working?”

I had hoped he wouldn’t ask what I was doing, but of course he did.

It was difficult for me to say I had become a childcare worker. Up to that point, I had made much bigger claims for myself.

Instead of answering directly, I said quickly, “I don’t know yet whether it will be permanent.”

He understood that I was uncomfortable.

A few months later, when my parents’ income was released, I no longer had to continue working as Ezi’s caregiver.

Still, I had become attached to Ezi and to that house. It felt like a kind of belonging.

I had even become attached to the housekeeper who worked there.

So I decided to stay until I found something better.

One day, on my way home from work, Sina’s friend got into the elevator with me, along with the same woman I had seen before.

I looked at the woman’s hand.

No ring.

So most likely she was Sina’s girlfriend too.

I was deeply depressed.

I assumed he was involved with someone else. Maybe that was why he kept his distance from me.

I became distraught. Almost crazy.

The first night I had seen this woman had been Sina’s birthday.

Afterward he had come looking for me, and the tenderness of that gesture had made me almost forget about the woman.

But now I had seen her again.

How did I know she hadn’t come many other times without my knowing?