Raya barely remembered how she got to Anna's apartment. The walk there had been a blur — her mind heavy with too much pain, too much hopelessness. When Anna opened the door, concern filling her face, Raya's tears spilled over at last.
"I don't know what to do, Anna," she whispered, her voice shaking, broken. "I'm so tired…" The words came out between sobs she couldn't hold back anymore.
Anna didn't ask questions. She stepped aside quickly, pulling Raya into a tight hug, holding her like she could piece her back together if she just held her long enough. She guided her inside, gently closing the door behind them, and led Raya to the couch. The apartment was warm, comforting — the soft glow of a lamp, the faint scent of tea, posters of Anna's favorite anime characters and her mentor from China on the walls. It was a space that felt safe. A space that felt like home.
"Sit down, breathe. I'll get you water," Anna said softly, already moving to grab tissues and a glass. When she returned, Raya was curled into herself on the couch, shoulders shaking, her face buried in her hands.
"My dad… another debt," Raya choked out, taking the water with trembling hands. She wiped at her tears, trying to steady her voice, but the hurt was too deep. "A huge one this time. I don't know what to do anymore. I don't have anything left, Anna. I'm so tired of all this. I work, and I work… but it's never enough."
Anna's heart clenched. She sat beside Raya, pulling her close again, stroking her hair the way an older sister might. "That man is going to destroy you, Raya," she said quietly, anger for her friend bubbling beneath her words. "Please. Stay here. Let him go. You've done enough. More than enough."
But Raya shook her head, tears spilling fresh again. "He's all I have," she whispered, voice cracking. "I can't leave him. If I do… what does that make me?"
Anna's heart broke at the sight of her like this. She reached out, cupped Raya's tear-streaked face in her hands, made her look at her. "That makes you someone who's finally saving herself," she said, voice soft, full of sorrow. "You deserve better, Raya. You always have."
Raya didn't answer. She just leaned into Anna's hold, the weight of everything crashing over her as the room fell quiet, save for the sound of her quiet sobs.
One thing for sure, she didn't think she could leave her father.
That father of hers was all she had left in this world, and she couldn't bring herself to give up on him just like that.
Anna stood up to make tea. She leaned against the kitchen counter, her hands wrapped around a steaming mug, watching Raya pick at the hem of her hoodie.
"One thing for sure," Anna said softly, "I'm not letting you go back tonight. You're staying here, no argument."
Raya looked up, searching Anna's eyes as if to make sure she meant it. And she knew she did. The relief she felt didn't show on her face.
"Thank you," she said simply. Her voice was so quiet Anna almost didn't hear it, but she smiled at her.
That night, after Anna had gone to bed, Raya lay awake beside her in Anna's room. The lamp on the desk cast a warm yellow glow.
Raya stared at the ceiling. It had been years since she'd been in a space that felt safe enough to think. Her mind drifted to the first time she met Anna, back in school, when Anna had offered her a granola bar during lunch. Anna's optimism had always seemed a little naïve then, like she didn't understand how cruel the world could be. But now, in the silence of this small apartment, Raya realized Anna's kindness wasn't naïve at all — it was intentional.
Her phone sat on the nightstand, the dark screen lighting up as her father called again and again. She thought about picking it up, but the idea made her stomach twist. What would she even say? That she was leaving? That she was free from the shackles he put her in? No — she wasn't free. Because she couldn't leave her father to fend for himself.
When she finally closed her eyes, it was almost morning.
—
The Next Day
The soft scratching of pencil on paper filled the quiet morning air.
Raya stirred beneath the warm blanket, her body heavy with exhaustion. For a moment, she forgot where she was — until the smell of tea and the gentle hum of life reminded her. She opened her eyes, blinking at the soft light spilling through the thin curtains.
Anna's small apartment was cozy, filled with splashes of color — posters, sketches, little trinkets from conventions and art fairs.
Raya shuffled out of the room and went to the sitting room where Anna was. The weight of last night crashed over her again.
And there, by the wide window in the sitting room, sat Anna — already awake, her stylus gliding over her Huion tablet, eyes locked on her computer screen. Her brows furrowed in concentration as she worked on her latest character design, completely immersed in the world she was creating.
Anna glanced up, a grin tugging at her lips. "Good morning, sleeping beauty."
Raya tried to smile but couldn't quite manage it. She sank onto the couch, pulling her knees up, wrapping her arms around herself.
Anna watched her for a beat, then — as if trying to chase away the gloom — she set down her sketchpad and leaned back in her chair. "A pen may be small," she said, voice soft but bright, "but with it you can draw a world no one can take from you."
Raya managed to finish the line with her, the words so familiar now they were etched into her soul. "…a world no one can take from you."
Their eyes met. A fragile, fleeting smile passed between them.
Anna's gaze softened. "See? I've made you listen to me talk about Master Liu so much you've memorized her favorite quote."
Raya's eyes drifted to the poster on the wall — the elegant signature of Liu Wenqing, the celebrated Chinese anime artist Anna admired so fiercely. The woman's artwork filled the apartment: strong heroines, breathtaking landscapes, delicate ink strokes that seemed to pulse with life.
"I like it," Raya said quietly. "It feels… hopeful."
Anna smiled, picking up her sketchpad again, though she kept her eyes on Raya. "That's why I always say it. One day, I'll make art that inspires someone the way she inspired me."
Raya watched her friend, the passion in Anna's voice like a warm flame. She wished she could borrow even a spark of that strength.
Anna glanced toward the tiny kitchenette. "Hungry? I've got instant noodles, or I can whip up eggs."
Raya shook her head. "No… I'm fine. Thanks."
But the truth was, her stomach was twisted in knots. Not from hunger, but from the crushing weight of reality.
Anna set her sketchpad down again, sensing it. "Raya…" she began gently.
"I don't know what to do," Raya whispered, voice cracking. She stared at her hands, as if hoping they'd find the answers she couldn't. "That money… it's too much. Even if I worked ten lifetimes — I can't… I don't…"
Anna's heart ached seeing her like this. "You're not alone in this. You know you're not. Just say the word, Raya. Stay here. Let me help."
Raya shook her head, the tears welling again. "I can't do that to you or to him. You worked so hard for what you have. And… he's my father."
Anna didn't argue. She'd said it before, and she knew Raya's heart was loyal, and kind to her father.
Instead, she moved to the couch, sitting beside Raya, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Okay. But promise me something."
Raya wiped her face, glancing at her.
"Promise me," Anna said softly, "you won't let this break you. You're stronger than this. Stronger than him. Stronger than the debt. Just… don't forget that."
Raya nodded, swallowing hard.
They sat together in the quiet, Anna's sketches forgotten for now, the world outside already calling — but for a little while longer, they stayed like that.
Finally, Raya straightened. "I should go."
Anna frowned. "Go where? What's the plan?"
"To work. I can't sit here. I need to do something."
Anna hesitated, then sighed. "Okay. But if you need me — for anything — just call."
"I know," Raya said, managing a small smile.
She stood, went back into the room to take her bath and dressed up, smoothing her wrinkled clothes, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the morning sun.
Anna gave her a thumbs-up behind her.
—
By the time Raya stepped outside, the city felt too loud, too bright. Her hoodie's hood was pulled up, shadowing her face, but it couldn't shield her from the blur of movement around her — office workers in pressed suits, shopkeepers rolling up metal shutters, the hiss of bus doors opening.
She passed a bakery where the scent of fresh bread spilled into the street. For a moment, she slowed, watching a little boy tug on his mother's hand, laughing about something only he understood. The normalcy of it hit her like a punch. People here got to live their lives without looking over their shoulders, without wondering who was pulling their strings.
Her own father's shadow stretched farther than the streets she'd walked. Even now, even away from him, it felt like she could feel his presence.
A part of her wanted to turn around, to run back to Anna's apartment and hide there until the world forgot about her. But she knew that was impossible.
Anna had given her a safe place. The rest was up to her, to decide.
Taking a deep breath, Raya stepped into the stream of people and let the city swallow her whole.
She had to face it.