Chapter 71

Yesenia's back went rigid. Humiliation, indignation, and a surge of anger washed over her, contorting her features.

After a few seconds, she turned to face him. Seeing the cold indifference in his eyes, her heart sank. She came to one conclusion: he was in a very bad mood tonight.

After all this time with Clifford, if she'd learned anything, it was how to read his moods. She knew that if she actually cut herself now, there was a good chance he wouldn't lift a finger to help her.

She hesitated, then threw the knife on the table and launched herself at him, burying her face in his chest. Yesenia knew when to be soft, when to play the victim.

"I've waited a whole year for this birthday, and you just send Ziven to blow me off. Do you have any idea how much that hurt me?"

Her voice was thick with real, genuine hurt. She knew the only person who could make him abandon her was that mute girl.

Clifford's dark expression softened slightly. He wrapped an arm around her waist. "I'll make it up to you."

Yesenia looked up at his handsome face, pouting. "Really?"

"Yes."

"You can't stand me up again."

"I won't," Clifford promised, his gaze shifting to her ankle. "Is it better?”

"A little. It still hurts to walk," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Carry me?"

Clifford didn't refuse. He bent down, scooped her up, and carried her to the living room.

Nestled in his arms, Yesenia mumbled, “I haven't eaten yet. Eat with me."

Clifford looked down at her and grunted in agreement.

Wilma cleared the table and prepared a fresh meal, lighting new candles.

...

The weather had turned colder, and a steady drizzle had been falling for days.

After being caught in the rain, Latisha came down with a high fever. She curled up in bed, drifting in and out of a delirious state, losing all track of time. In the hazy world of her dreams, she felt forgotten. The only upside was that being muddled was easier than being lucid.

Latisha figured she must be resilient. After three days in bed without medicine or a doctor, the fever broke on its own.

Clifford seemed intent on keeping his month-long promise to Yesenia, because after that night, he never came back.

Latisha dragged herself out of bed, showered, changed her clothes, and left with an umbrella.

The money Nikita had lent her had appeared in her account at some point. She used it to buy groceries, some necessities, and a new phonë. She took the bags to Mrs. Dashiell.

Because of the rain, the old woman wasn't out collecting recyclables. She was huddled in her small, makeshift shelter.

As Latisha approached, she could hear a deep, rattling cough from inside.

Latisha quickened her pace and knocked on the tarp.

up.

Mrs. Dashiell pulled back the damp flap. When she saw Latisha, her cloudy eyes lit

“Latisha, what are you doing here?” she said, quickly getting up to help with the bags.

Latisha looked around. There was

Bet

nowhere to put the bags except the foot of the cot. She set them down and sat beside Mrs. Dashiell.

"You don't look so well. Are you sick?" Mrs. Dashiell asked with concern.

Latisha smiled and shook her head. She took out the simple, senior-friendly phone she had bought and handed it to her.

*My number is already saved in it,* she signed. *Call me if you need anything.*

“Oh, no, I can't take this. It's too expensive. Besides, what would an old woman like me do with a phone?"

*It's second-hand, not worth much,* Latisha signed. *Please take it. It will be easier for us to stay in touch.*