Chapter Four
1778 Words
The bus ride felt longer than usual.
Every bump in the road jarred through me, every stop dragging time out just a little further. I sat by the window, watching the city slide past in blurred reflections, my fingers brushing against the business card in my bag more times than I cared to admit.
I shouldn’t have kept it.
I definitely shouldn’t have been thinking about him.
But my mind kept drifting back to the café. To the warmth. To the way Max had looked at me like he actually saw through the mess instead of pretending it wasn’t there.
It was stupid.
Dangerous, even.
Because that kind of attention didn’t belong in my world.
By the time the bus reached my stop, the sky had darkened into early evening. The air was colder now, sharper, biting at my skin as I stepped down onto the pavement.
I hesitated for a second, staring down the narrow street that led to the house.
Home.
If I could even call it that.
The building looked worse in the dim light—paint peeling around the windows, the front gate hanging slightly crooked, the small patch of garden more weeds than anything else. A single flickering porch light cast uneven shadows across the cracked path.
I let out a slow breath and walked toward it.
The door stuck like it always did. I had to shove my shoulder against it before it gave way with a dull creak.
Warmth hit me immediately, along with the faint smell of cooking.
“Finally,” a voice called from the kitchen. “I was starting to think you’d got lost.”
I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. “Sorry, Bess.”
Bessie appeared in the doorway, a wooden spoon still in her hand. Her dark hair was tied up in a messy bun, and she wore one of her oversized jumpers that looked like it had seen better days.
Her eyes softened the moment she saw me properly.
“Oh, Maya…” she sighed, setting the spoon down on the counter and walking toward me. “You look awful.”
“Thanks,” I muttered.
She didn’t laugh. Instead, she pulled me into a hug before I could protest.
I stiffened for half a second, then melted into it.
The warmth of it, the familiarity—it broke something loose inside me all over again.
“How bad?” she asked quietly.
I swallowed hard. “Terminal.”
Her arms tightened around me. “Oh God…”
“There’s private treatment,” I added quickly, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “But it’s… it’s a lot of money.”
Bessie pulled back, searching my face. “How much?”
“Tens of thousands.”
Her expression fell.
“Right,” she said softly.
We both knew what that meant.
Impossible.
She guided me toward the small kitchen table and pushed me gently into a chair. “Sit. I made pasta. It’s not fancy, but it’s hot.”
“I’m not really hungry.”
“You are,” she said firmly. “You just don’t know it yet.”
I didn’t argue.
Instead, I rested my elbows on the table and dropped my head into my hands. My thoughts were spinning again—money, hospitals, time running out.
The chair opposite scraped softly as Bessie sat down.
“You’ll figure something out,” she said.
I let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah? With what money?”
“We’ll find a way.”
“We?” I lifted my head slightly. “Bess, you can barely cover your own bills.”
“And?” she shot back. “That doesn’t mean I’m not in this with you.”
Guilt twisted sharply in my chest.
“I don’t want to drag you into my mess,” I said.
“You didn’t drag me anywhere,” she replied. “I chose to help. That’s what friends do.”
I looked at her properly then, taking in the tired lines around her eyes, the way her shoulders seemed to carry their own weight.
She didn’t need this.
She didn’t need me adding more problems to her life.
Before I could say anything else, a sudden, heavy knock on the front door made both of us jump.
We froze.
Another knock followed—louder this time. Sharper.
My stomach dropped instantly.
“No,” I whispered.
Bessie’s face paled. “Maya…”
A third knock, this time more like a bang.
“Open the door.”
Joe.
My chest tightened so hard it hurt.
“He must have seen you come in,” Bessie muttered, panic creeping into her voice. “Oh my God, Maya—”
“I’ll handle it,” I said quickly, pushing myself to my feet.
“No, you won’t,” she snapped, standing too. “You’re not going out there alone.”
“I have to.”
“You don’t.”
The banging came again, louder, more aggressive.
“I know you’re in there!”
I closed my eyes for a second, forcing myself to breathe.
This wasn’t going away.
If anything, it was about to get worse.
“I’ll talk to him,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Just… stay inside, okay?”
Bessie grabbed my arm. “Be careful.”
I nodded once, even though I had no idea how I was supposed to be careful around someone like Joe.
Then I turned and walked toward the door.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
By the time I reached it, my heart was pounding so loudly I was sure he’d be able to hear it from the other side.
I hesitated.
Then I opened it.
Joe stood on the doorstep, rain still clinging to his jacket, his expression dark and impatient.
“Well,” he said, his eyes sweeping over me. “Took you long enough.”
“What do you want?” I asked, keeping my voice as calm as I could manage.
“You know what I want.”
“I told you—I’ll have your money.”
“When?” he snapped, stepping closer.
“By the end of the week.”
His jaw tightened. “You’ve said that before.”
“And I mean it this time.”
He let out a harsh laugh. “Funny how people always ‘mean it’ when they’re backed into a corner.”
I clenched my fists at my sides. “I’m not running from you.”
“No?” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. “Because it looks a lot like you’re stalling.”
“I’m not.”
“Then where’s my money, Maya?”
“I don’t have it yet.”
His expression shifted, something colder settling in his eyes.
“That’s a problem,” he said quietly.
“I’ll get it.”
“You better,” he replied. “Because if I don’t see it by the deadline, I’m not going to be as patient as I’ve been.”
A chill ran through me.
“I told you, I’ll pay you back.”
He glanced past me briefly, toward the inside of the house. “Your friend in there doesn’t look like she’d enjoy me coming back again.”
My stomach twisted.
“Leave her out of this.”
“That depends on you.”
I swallowed hard. “Just give me a few days.”
He held my gaze for a long, uncomfortable moment, as if weighing something.
Then he smirked.
“Fine,” he said. “End of the week.”
Relief flickered through me—but it didn’t last long.
“After that,” he added, “I stop asking nicely.”
My chest tightened again.
“Understood?”
“Yes.”
He took a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Good.”
For a second, I thought he was going to leave.
Then he tilted his head slightly, studying me.
“You look like hell,” he said casually.
I didn’t respond.
“Life catching up with you?” he added.
I forced my expression to stay blank. “Just go, Joe.”
He smirked again, clearly enjoying himself.
“See you soon, Maya.”
Then he turned and walked away, disappearing down the street as if he hadn’t just turned my entire world upside down for the second time that day.
I stood there for a moment, staring after him, my body frozen in place.
Only when I couldn’t see him anymore did I realise I was shaking.
I closed the door slowly and leaned back against it, pressing my eyes shut.
“Is he gone?” Bessie asked from behind me.
“Yeah.”
She let out a breath. “I hate him.”
“Me too.”
Silence settled between us.
Then she said quietly, “You can’t keep doing this.”
“I know.”
“You need to pay him.”
“I said I will.”
“With what?” she pressed. “Maya, you don’t have the money.”
I didn’t answer.
Because she was right.
Of course she was right.
The room felt too small suddenly, the walls closing in with the weight of everything I couldn’t fix.
My hand moved almost on its own, slipping into my bag.
My fingers brushed against the card.
Maxwell Charles.
I froze.
Bessie noticed immediately. “What’s that?”
“Nothing,” I said too quickly, pulling my hand back.
Her eyes narrowed. “Maya.”
“It’s just…” I hesitated, then sighed. “I met someone today.”
Her expression shifted instantly. “Someone?”
“It’s nothing like that,” I said quickly. “He just—helped me. When I was leaving the hospital.”
“And gave you his number?”
“It’s not like that.”
She raised an eyebrow. “It’s exactly like that.”
I shook my head, but doubt crept in anyway.
Because I could still hear his voice.
I think you’re closer to needing help than you want to admit.
And the worst part?
He wasn’t wrong.
I pulled the card out slowly, staring down at it.
One phone call.
That was all it would take.
But men like him didn’t help women like me for free.
There was always a cost.
There was always something expected in return.
And yet…
Joe’s voice echoed in my head.
End of the week.
My grip tightened around the card.
I didn’t know what scared me more.
Calling Max—
Or not calling him at all.
- Writer
