Allie walked aimlessly through the city, the night air biting at her cheeks, her chest heavy with confusion and shame. The sounds of laughter and traffic blurred together — horns, chatter, music spilling from open bars — but she heard none of it.
Her mind was louder.
Every step replayed the night in flashes — Curtis's face, the shock in his eyes, the sting of his words.
She knew he was drunk, knew he didn't mean it the way it sounded, yet her heart — fragile and scarred — refused to listen to reason.
How could I let this happen again? she thought. Why do I always run?
Her pace slowed until she reached a deserted bus stop. Neon light from a nearby convenience store washed over the cracked pavement. She sat on the cold metal bench, her hands trembling as she buried her face in them.
Tears streamed freely, her breath hitching as she whispered to herself,"Why do I keep ruining everything?"
Because she knew. Deep down, she knew how he felt — how she felt — but fear always won.Fear of being seen.Fear of being hurt.Fear of wanting too much.
Her phone buzzed again. Kit.
The name on her screen made her chest tighten. He was calling. Then texting. Again and again.
She couldn't bear it.
She powered the phone off, shoving it deep into her purse just as the bus pulled up.
As she climbed aboard, she wiped at her tear-streaked face and whispered to herself,"Just breathe. Just go home."Curtis, meanwhile, was running through downtown, scanning faces, desperate.
He didn't even feel the cold or the dizziness from the alcohol still in his system — only the ache of panic.
"How did I lose her?" he muttered under his breath, retracing his steps toward the club, the street, anywhere she might have gone.
He'd never been this careless, this out of control. Logic used to guide him; now logic meant nothing.
He stopped beneath a flickering streetlight, bracing his hands on his knees. His throat burned as he cursed out loud,"Fuck!"
Straightening up, he smacked his own forehead, frustration echoing through his bones."How could I say that? How could I—" He couldn't even finish the thought.
He realized, for the first time, how little he knew about her.He didn't know where she lived.Didn't know her friends.Didn't even know her last name until Zack mentioned it once.
I said we were friends, he thought bitterly, but I never even tried to know her world.
When Allie finally arrived home, she paused on the porch, wiping her eyes again in the reflection of the glass door. She looked tired — red-eyed, pale — but determined to hide every trace of her breakdown.
She stepped inside to find the living room still lit. Her mother sat on the couch with a blanket around her shoulders, Aunt Leila perched beside her with a phone in hand. Raffi leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her expression tight with worry.
"Allie!" her mother gasped in relief.
Raffi was less forgiving. "Where have you been? We were so worried! I texted you about something important — you said you'd talk when you got home.
Then your last text was that you were at a club? Seriously?"
"Raffi," their mom interrupted, her voice calm but firm. "Don't raise your voice at your sister." She turned back to Allie. "Sweetheart, why was your phone off? We were worried sick."
Allie bowed her head. "I'm so sorry, Mom. Aunt Leila, Raffi — I should've called. My phone died, and I didn't notice how late it was."
Aunt Leila sighed softly. "We trust you, honey. Just… don't make your mother worry like that again. It's not like you."
Allie nodded, guilt heavy in her chest. "It won't happen again. I promise."
She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "So… what was so important?"
The air in the room shifted.
Raffi's face brightened instantly. "The PET scan results came in!" she announced, her voice bubbling with excitement.
Allie blinked. "Wait—what?"
Her mom smiled, tears in her eyes. "The tumor shrank enough for the operation."
For a moment, the world stilled — then Allie let out a sharp, joyful scream.
She threw her arms around Raffi, then around her mom and Aunt Leila, crying and laughing all at once. Relief crashed through her like a wave. After years of fear, waiting, and praying — finally, finally, they had a chance.
But the joy didn't last.
Raffi's expression darkened as she handed her sister a sheet of paper — the estimate from the hospital.
"This is the out-of-pocket cost after insurance," she said quietly. "They need full payment before scheduling the operation."
The energy in the room plummeted.
Their mom broke the silence first. "We don't have to rush. I can talk to my doctor, maybe wait a few more months—"
"Mom, no!" Raffi cried. "We've been waiting too long already. What if it spreads again?"
"She's right," Aunt Leila said, her voice low but firm. "The doctor said now is the safest window. You can't risk waiting."
Allie's heart sank. The numbers on the paper blurred. Even with their savings — even with help — it wasn't enough.
Not for the surgery, not for the recovery, not for the medication.
Her chest tightened, tears threatening again.
"Mom," she whispered, "we'll find a way. We always do."
Raffi was already crying. "I can drop out of school, work full-time, maybe take a loan—"
"No." Allie's voice was steady, though her heart raced. "You're staying in school. That's not up for discussion."
"But—"
"I said no." She wiped her tears and forced a smile. "Schedule the surgery, Mom. I've got this."
Her family stared at her in confusion.
"How?" Raffi asked.
Allie smiled again, the kind that hides exhaustion. "I've been saving, and Clarisse and my bosses promised to help. They said they'd treat it as an advance."
Aunt Leila exhaled in relief. "Bless them, truly."
Her mother reached for her hand, squeezing gently. "I don't know what I did to deserve you girls."
Allie swallowed hard. "We'll be okay, Mom. I promise."
They all hugged once more before heading off to bed, exhausted but lighter.
Later, in the quiet of her room, Allie sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the glow of her phone screen.
Her savings account balance blinked back at her — a number far too small.
Not even close.
Her throat tightened as tears welled up again. She pressed her palms to her face, her body trembling in silence.
Then a thought formed — dark, desperate, but resolute.
There's still one way.
She didn't know if it would work. She didn't even want to think about what it might cost her — her pride, her peace, maybe even her dignity.
But for her mom, she would do it. Whatever it took.
She opened her messages and typed to Clarisse:
Hey, I need a favor. I might be gone for a few days. Please cover for me — I'll explain soon. Just trust me.
She sent it before she could second-guess herself.
Then she put her phone facedown, whispered a shaky prayer, and stared up at the ceiling.
This is the only way, she thought. And I'll deal with everything else later.