"You don't have to do this," she said finally.
Rina shrugged, pretending not to care. "I already did."
"You know what I mean."
Rina met her eyes, her smile small but sharp. "I do. But pretending we still have choices? That's just another lie, Amara."
The words stung more than they should have.
Amara folded the envelope and slid it under the mattress. "We'll save it. For rent. Groceries. Not for whatever you're planning."
"I'm not planning anything," Rina said, reaching for her lipstick. She applied it slowly, watching herself in the broken mirror. "Just surviving."
Amara leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Surviving doesn't have to mean selling yourself."
"Don't talk like you're better."
"I'm not."
"Then stop sounding like you are."
The air grew heavy, both of them breathing through silence and pride.Finally, Amara spoke again, quieter this time.
"They said anything about a name? The woman offering the surgery?"
Rina's hands froze midair. "No name. Just a number. They said they'll send the car when it's time."
"You're not going."
"You can't stop me."
"Try me."
They stared each other down, Amara's eyes glassy with fear, Rina's burning with defiance. Then, without another word, Rina grabbed her jacket and slung it over her shoulder.
"I'll be back before dark," she muttered.
"You said that last time."
Rina paused at the door. "This time, I mean it."
She left.
Amara sat down slowly, her body numb, the sound of the door closing echoing in her chest. She glanced toward the window. The streets outside were loud and alive, but her world had never felt quieter.
The phone buzzed. Unknown number.She hesitated, then answered.
"Hello?"
A distorted voice on the other end, calm, deliberate.
"Tell Rina not to be late. We keep our promises here."
Click.
The line went dead.
Amara stared at the phone, her pulse racing. She didn't know what scared her more, the voice or the fact that Rina was already on her way. *****************************************
The rain continued, warning heavy, slanted, and merciless. Amara pulled her hood tighter, clutching her bag to her chest as she hurried down the muddy street. Her shoes were soaked; her breath turned white in the cold air.
She was late again. Rina's voice echoed in her mind, "We'll make it. We always do."But nothing about this felt like making it.
A black car swerved too close to the curb, cutting through a puddle that exploded in a wave of dirty water. Amara froze as it splashed across her legs, cold stabbing up her spine.
"What the hell?" she snapped, wiping her face.
The car rolled to a stop. For a second, she thought whoever it was would just drive off. But the door opened.
Yadiel stepped out. His shirt was half-buttoned, his hair damp from the rain, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, the kind that comes from more than just lack of sleep.
"Hey," his voice was hoarse, low. "I didn't see you. Sorry."
Amara looked him up and down, unimpressed. "Clearly."
He smirked faintly, as if he wasn't used to being spoken to that way.
"You alright? Need a ride or"
"No," she cut him off, already walking away.
"You sure? It's pouring."
"And you're the reason I'm drenched."
Her tone was sharp, but her voice trembled slightly more from the cold than from anger.
He watched her go, the rain soaking into his sleeves. Something about her lingered in the curve of her jaw, the sharpness in her tone. He couldn't place it, but something pulled.
He wanted to call out again. Instead, he just muttered under his breath,
"Unbelievable."
Then he got back into the car, slammed the door, and leaned his head against the seat, but her face wouldn't. Amara reached the café where she worked, a dim corner joint near the main street, where the smell of coffee tried and failed to cover the scent of grease.
She changed quickly, hiding her wet clothes in her locker, and tied her apron with shaking fingers.
"You're late," her manager called from the counter.
"The bus didn't show."
"You live close."
"Then maybe the rain hates me."
He didn't laugh. He never did.
She exhaled, grabbed a tray, and went to work pretending her world wasn't crumbling one secret at a time.
The bell above the door chimed. She looked up and froze.
Yadiel walked in . Same coat. Same face.Same look that made her heart skip, not from romance, but from something sharper, older. Recognition, she didn't want to understand.
He hadn't seen her yet. But when he did, their eyes met, and the silence between them was louder than the rain outside.