Maya examined the journal and notes with the careful attention she brought to her psychology case studies, her expression growing more troubled with each page. “This level of technical knowledge is concerning, Finn. Combined with the episodes River described yesterday, it suggests something more complex than stress-related amnesia.”
“You think?” Finn's voice came out sharper than he'd intended, frustration and fear bleeding through his attempt at casual dismissal. “Because I'm pretty sure normal people don't develop expertise in fields they've never studied during periods they can't remember.”
“Have you talked to River about this? He might be able to provide context for some of the marine biology observations.”
Finn felt heat rise in his cheeks, embarrassment mixing with defensive anger. “Right, because involving my boyfriend of one week in my ongoing mental breakdown is exactly what our relationship needs right now.”
Maya's expression shifted, becoming more pointed. “Speaking of which, don't you think you're moving pretty fast with him? I mean, he accompanied you to a medical appointment yesterday and took charge of your healthcare advocacy. That's serious relationship territory, not casual dating behavior.”
“He didn't take charge of my healthcare,” Finn protested. “He supported me when the doctor dismissed my concerns. There's a difference.”
“Is there? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're depending on someone you barely know to navigate a serious medical crisis.” Maya leaned forward with the intensity that meant she was about to say something he probably didn't want to hear. “What happens if his feelings change? What happens if dealing with someone with mysterious neurological symptoms gets old?”
Finn felt something cold and sharp settle in his stomach. “River's not like that.”
“How do you know? You've known him a week, Finn. A week. That's not enough time to understand someone's character or commitment level, especially when dealing with something this serious.”
“It's enough time to know that he makes me feel safer than I have since Mom died,” Finn said, his voice rising with emotions he couldn't contain. “It's enough time to know that he listens to my fears without dismissing them, that he takes my symptoms seriously when everyone else thinks I'm just stressed, that he looks at me like I'm worth caring about even when my brain is falling apart.”
Maya's expression softened slightly, but her concern remained evident. “I understand that he makes you feel good, and I'm glad you've found someone who cares about you. But depending on him this much, this quickly, isn't healthy. What if you're just transferring the caretaking dynamic you had with Mom onto this relationship?”
He had spent years taking care of their mother, learning to anticipate her needs and manage her confusion. Maybe he was gravitating toward River's protective instincts because they feltfamiliar, because being taken care of was easier than figuring out how to take care of himself.
“That's not what this is,” Finn said, but his voice lacked conviction.
“Isn't it? You've been independent for two years, Finn. You've built a successful business, maintained your own apartment, handled your finances and social life without help. But suddenly you meet someone who offers to take care of you, and you're ready to hand over responsibility for your medical care and decision-making.”
“He's not taking responsibility for my medical care. He's supporting me through a scary situation.”
“By researching your symptoms, advocating with doctors, planning your treatment strategy.” Maya's voice was gentle but implacable. “Those are caretaking behaviors, Finn. And while they come from a good place, they're not a sustainable foundation for a romantic relationship.”
Finn wanted to argue, but Maya's words were hitting targets he hadn't realized were vulnerable. He had been letting River take the lead on medical research and doctor advocacy. He had been relying on River's scientific background to legitimize concerns that doctors dismissed when Finn raised them alone.
But that didn't mean his feelings for River were just dependency in disguise. The connection between them felt deeper than caretaking dynamics, more real than trauma bonding over his medical crisis.
“I love him,” Finn said quietly, the admission surprising him with its certainty. “Not because he takes care of me, but because of who he is. Because he's passionate about his work and funny in unexpected ways and gentle with things that are broken. Because when he looks at me, I feel like someone worth loving instead of someone who's falling apart.”
Maya was quiet for a moment, her expression cycling through emotions Finn couldn't identify. “I know you think you love him. But love that develops this quickly, under these circumstances, needs to be examined carefully. Are you falling for River, or are you falling for the way he makes you feel about yourself?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters because one is sustainable and the other isn't. If your feelings are based on how he manages your medical crisis, what happens when the crisis resolves? What happens if it gets worse and he can't handle it?”
The questions hung in the air between them, loaded with implications that made Finn's chest tight with panic. Because Maya wasn't wrong about the timeline being compressed or the circumstances being unusual. But she was wrong about the depth of what he felt for River, the way their connection seemed to exist independent of his medical symptoms.
“I can't believe you're asking me to choose between my relationship and my family,” Finn said, defensive anger rising to cover his fear.
“I'm not asking you to choose anything. I'm asking you to be careful about making major life decisions while you're dealing with a serious medical condition that affects your judgment and memory.”
“My judgment is fine.”
“Is it? Because you're talking about love after knowing someone for a week. You're allowing near-strangers to make medical decisions for you. You're experiencing episodes that suggest significant neurological dysfunction.” Maya's voice rose with frustration and fear. “None of that suggests your judgment is operating normally.”
Finn felt tears burning behind his eyes, overwhelmed by the combination of his sister's concerns and his own growing terrorabout what was happening to his mind. “So what am I supposed to do? Push away the one person who makes me feel human because the timing isn't convenient? Live in isolation because my brain might be falling apart?”
“I'm supposed to watch you repeat Mom's pattern? Watch you get confused and lost and forget who you are?” Maya's voice cracked with emotion she'd been trying to contain. “I can't go through that again, Finn. I can't watch someone else I love disappear gradually while I stand by helplessly.”
The raw fear in her voice stopped Finn's defensive anger cold. Maya had been his caretaker during their mother's illness, had managed medical appointments and insurance claims and the slow erosion of their family's normalcy. She'd put her own life on hold to handle their mother's needs, and now she was watching him develop symptoms that might require the same sacrifice.
