Alex, who had been cursing at the empty bottle, suddenly looked up. The chair scraped softly as he shifted.
He looked genuinely surprised, as if he hadn't expected those words to come out of my mouth.
"I can't bring myself to trust that man, Alex. Let's just work hard. Earn honest money. No more risks. Let's live like this."
Silence fell between us. Neither of us spoke; neither of us looked up. We just sat there with our heads lowered, staring at the dirty table.
A fly buzzed near the edge of the table, circling the spilled alcohol before landing.
"Lyra," he said finally, his voice heavy. "We need money."
"Then let's earn it like we have been."
He lifted his head, irritation flickering across his face. "Like this? How long do you think it'll take to save for a house? We can't even afford to buy decent food!"
His voice grew louder with every word. I tried to say his name and tried to calm him down, but he was past listening.
