ANOTHER'S TREASURE

CHAPTER 3

I'd ask him. Jamie would never lie to me. He can't, all I had to do was get him to talk. I'd prepare something good for him and then ask him about it over the meal.

When he walked in and smelled it, I saw it in his eyes, surprise at first, then that quiet little glow I couldn't help but love. We ate on the floor, where the dining table used to be, legs crossed, cracked ceramics and washed up spoons, jokes and laughs. And for the first time in days, I felt full.

After dinner, when I asked about school. He hesitated then tried to change the subject three times. But I pressed gently, and he finally admitted, his grades were falling. His tuition hadn’t been paid. He’d dropped out.

He’d been helping out at a garage. Finding spare parts for the mechanics and helping them reach places their huge bodies couldn't fit.

But I'd given Marcus the money for his fees. Marcus had insisted I give him the money for all bill payment, so people don't talk about him and I… f**k Cynthia you're so foolish.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to feel worse. I just… I had to do something.” he whispered, eyes on his plate.

My heart shattered again.

He wasn’t just losing his education. He was losing his boyhood, forced to be a man before he was ready.

Before I could spiral into guilt and grief again, he stood up and pulled a small box from his backpack. No words, just that half-smile of his. Then he handed it to me.

I opened it slowly.

Inside was an exact replica of the jewelry.

Similar to the jewelry Marcus had sold, the one he gave me for giving birth to Jamie. it was like holding a memory I thought was gone. The design was almost the same, the only difference was an engraved word.

'mom'

Tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them.

“Mom, I—if you don’t like it, I can—”

“No, baby,” I whispered, shaking my head and reaching for his hand. “These are happy tears.”

He smiled. I smiled back.

“But how did you get it?”

“I'd been saving up for something but I just wanted to get you this” he said fiddling with his fork, “it might not be the same but…”

“It's better,” I replied.

The next morning, I decided I was going to work.

I pulled out an old dress from the back of my closet. I hadn’t touched it in months—maybe longer. It used to be tight and flattering, clinging to all the right places. But this time, as I slipped it on, it slid over my body without resistance.

It didn’t hug me. It hung on me.

I stood in front of the mirror, stunned. My collarbones stuck out sharply. My cheeks looked sunken. My arms seemed too thin, like my skin was barely keeping my bones together. I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me. I looked… small.

I pressed a hand to my stomach. Tears threatened, but I refused to let them fall.

Not today.

Today, I needed to be strong, even if it was pretend.

Before heading to work, I'd asked Jamie if I could walk with him, and maybe see the garage. He looked confused at first but didn’t say no. Just shrugged and led the way. my hands gripping the edge of my bag like it was the only thing anchoring me to the ground. I discovered I'd gained a new super power these days, I held onto things tightly. I was unconsciously too scared to lose anything else

The garage wasn’t what I expected. It was loud, busy, full of laughter and grease and the clang of metal on metal. The scent of oil clung to the air.

“Jamie!”

“Yo, Jamie! You’re back early?”

“Hey, hey who’s the lady?”

One of them squinted at me, smirked, and asked, “That your sister, kid?”

The others burst into laughter. Jamie rolled his eyes and muttered, “That’s my mom, you pervert.”

“Ohhh,” the guy said with a grin. “ I can be your stepdad if you're interested.”

My stomach flipped, was this the life Jamie would be subjected to?

A man in a faded polo walked over, tall and solid, wiping his hands on a rag. He had kind eyes that immediately softened something in me.

"Shut the hell up, Jonas" his voice echoed "you better watch yourself boy"

“You must be Cynthia,” he said, offering a handshake.

“I am,” I replied. “And you are?”

“Paulo. I own the place. Your son, he’s one hell of a worker.”

I glanced at Jamie, who was pretending not to hear but obviously listening.

“He’s been showing up early, staying late. Picks things up like he was born with a wrench in his hand. And respectful, too. Not a lot of kids his age like that anymore.”

I didn’t even know what to say. I just stood there, heart full.

“I just wanted to thank you for giving him a place.”

“You don’t have to thank me. He earned it. And you don’t owe me a dime for him being here. I took him in like one of my own. He’s family now.”

That nearly undid me. But I smiled, nodded, and tried to hold it together.

After a few goodbyes, I headed to work.

The office was usually a blend of buzzing phones and distant chatter. But today, it all felt different. I felt vulnerable, everyone who looked at me felt like I was an item of pity.

I walked straight to my desk, brushing it off and sat down, opened my computer, and stared at the screen like it held the answer to everything.

“Cynthia?”

I looked up. Eva stood at the edge of my desk. My workplace rival.

“I heard what happened,” she said, arms crossed. “I’m… sorry.”

How the hell did she know? Mr. Hughes must have told her.

Later, during lunch, I met Lauren in the break room. My one real friend here. She’d been through her own hell, lost her husband in a plane crash on his way back from a business trip. Left with three kids.

We sat together, quiet for a while before I spoke.

“Lauren… I need help.”

Her eyes softened.

“I’m drowning in bills. Jamie had to drop out of school. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate but… I need a loan. Just something to help me get by.”

Her face crumbled with guilt.

“Oh, Cyn… I wish I could. But things are tight this month. The kids, rent, everything. I’m sorry. I just can’t stretch anything right now.”

I nodded, forcing a smile. Those words hurt more than anything, I'd hoped and prayed she'd be able to help.

She leaned closer. “Try the loan office. My brother tried there and he got a huge loan. Maybe you can get something .”

So I went, hopeful and terrified at the same time.

The building was cold and overly sterile. The walls were white, but somehow dull; the chairs were stiff and uncomfortable. I sat acrossFrom the signatory. A woman in glasses too huge for her head and thick lipstick. She tapped on the keyboards.

“Name?” she asked, without looking at me.

“Cynthia Collins"

“Occupation?”

“Executive assistant.”

She paused and glanced up at me. “And the company?”

“crown and anchor estates”

She frowned slightly but resumed typing. “You’re requesting how much?”

“Enough to cover three months of bills and maybe Jamie’s tuition… around five thousand.”

She tapped in silence, and then the clicking stopped.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice flat. “You’re not eligible.”

My heart dropped. “Can I ask why?”

“Your job is under review. The company is undergoing restructuring, and there’s no guarantee of continued employment. Your credit score is low, and you have no tangible collateral. No property, no savings. Nothing we can hold as security.”

“Restructuring?” I asked

“Your company is on the market. Whoever buys it, claims it and the workers in situations like this are often sacked”

“I can get someone to vouch for me—”

“It wouldn’t matter. Our system doesn’t support co-signers for your loan category.”

I stared at her for a moment. She looked at me with eyes that had probably said those same words a hundred times. But it didn’t hurt any less.

“Is there really nothing you can do?”

She hesitated. “You can reapply in four months. If your financial situation changes.”

Four months?.