The contract
2009 Words
**Scene: St. Francis Hospital – Billing Office – Late Morning**
The hospital air was cold. Too clean. Too bright.
Ayra sat in a cracked plastic chair outside the billing office, her knees bouncing restlessly. Her fingers clutched the printout of her father’s current hospital charges — a terrifying stack of numbers highlighted in red ink.
The door creaked open.
Dr. Renner stepped out, followed by a stern-looking woman in a navy-blue blazer — someone from finance.
“Ayra,” Dr. Renner said gently. “Can we talk?”
She stood quickly, bracing herself.
Inside the small office, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The financial officer slid a folder across the desk.
“Your father’s current stay — ICU, medication, surgical team — has exceeded the initial deposit. We’ve given extensions where we can, but... we’re at capacity.”
Ayra’s voice was small. “What does that mean?”
Dr. Renner looked pained. “It means we need a substantial payment in the next 72 hours. Or we’ll have to move your father to a general ward. Or possibly discharge him.”
“Discharge?” she echoed. “He just had heart surgery. He can’t even sit up without assistance.”
“We know. Which is why we’re telling you now — before the decision is made for us.”
The finance officer leaned forward. “We’re not trying to be heartless, Miss Hale. But the hospital is not a charity. There are others in line for critical care.”
Ayra’s throat burned. “And my mom? Her dialysis?”
“She’s covered… *for now.* But only the basic sessions. Anything beyond that will need approval or upfront payment.”
Ayra stared at the file in her hands.
₱258,400 outstanding. ₱32,000 for upcoming dialysis cycles. And Ethan’s coma care? Not even included yet.
She stood slowly. “Can I have… a few more days?”
The officer gave a tight-lipped smile. “You have three.”
**Scene: Dorm Room – That Night**
Ayra dumped her bag on the floor and collapsed on her mattress, face to the ceiling, eyes dry from crying too often.
Her roommate had moved out weeks ago. Good. She needed silence.
She pulled out her notebook again.
Under the box with “Ethan. Mom. Me.” she wrote:
*Deadline: 3 days. ₱290,000 minimum.*
She stared at the number until her vision blurred.
Then she did what she hadn’t done before — she opened her school laptop and searched for things she swore she’d never do:
“Where to pawn jewelry near Manila” “How much for used iPhone SE” “Plasma donation center NCR” “How to sell eggs for money in PH” “Legal part-time jobs at night for students” “Fast cash – no questions asked”
Each click felt like another piece of her pride breaking away.
But she kept going.
Because love meant bleeding if you had to.
Scene: Side Street Pawnshop – Pasay City – The Next Morning
The sign above the door blinked erratically: FAST CASH – NO ID, NO QUESTIONS.
Ayra hesitated outside the rusted gate, her hand gripping a small velvet pouch — the last real piece of her old life.
Inside were her mother’s pearl earrings, a Cartier bracelet gifted on her 16th birthday, and a slim gold chain her father had once said was “for emergencies.”
Well, this was an emergency.
The pawnshop smelled of sweat, metal, and desperation. A radio played an old love song no one seemed to hear. Behind a steel-barred counter sat a man with slicked-back hair, eyes like oil.
Ayra stepped forward and wordlessly placed the pouch on the counter.
The man opened it with one hand, his fingers moving like a butcher assessing meat.
“₱18,000,” he said after a beat.
Ayra blinked. “What? The bracelet alone—”
“Old model. Tiny scratches. This ain’t Greenbelt, sweetheart. You want it or not?”
Her jaw clenched. She needed at least ₱30,000 to keep the doctors off her back today. But bargaining meant risking him withdrawing altogether.
She nodded. “Fine.”
He counted out the bills slowly, as if daring her to snatch it and run. When she left, the pouch felt like it weighed a thousand kilos lighter. Her heart — heavier.
---
Scene: Dorm Room – That Night
Her fingers trembled slightly as she clicked Enter on a questionable listing she’d found while scrolling through an underground forum called JobFlips.
> “Online work. No need to show face. Easy ₱500–₱1,000 per session. Must be fluent in English and take direction well.”
Ayra didn’t care if it was sketchy. She’d heard of girls making money reading bedtime stories, talking to lonely strangers, pretending to be someone's “fake girlfriend” on livestream. She figured it couldn’t be that bad.
A link arrived in her inbox:
“Confirm you’re over 18. Camera required. Rules: no nudity unless offered + tipped.”
Her stomach dropped.
She hovered her finger over the trackpad. Then, instead of backing out, she clicked “Agree.”
---
Scene: Online Chatroom – 11:43 PM
The room was dim. Ayra wore a hoodie, the camera angled high to obscure most of her face. Her voice was steady but strained.
“Hi,” she said.
The man on the other end was faceless — just text on a black screen.
> CLIENT 01: “You look nervous.”
CLIENT 01: “Don’t worry, I just want you to talk. What’s your name?”
Ayra (pausing): “Sam.”
She lied.
> CLIENT 01: “Good. Sam. Tell me a story. Something dark. Something desperate.”
Ayra swallowed, heart pounding. She didn’t flinch.
She told him about a girl whose life crumbled in 24 hours.
A girl who lost her name, her home, her place in the world.
A girl who clawed for dignity one peso at a time.
He tipped ₱500.
She ended the session after 23 minutes.
---
Scene: Bathroom Mirror – Just Past Midnight
Ayra stared at herself under the yellow flickering light. The hoodie was still on. Her voice still echoed in her ears.
“Sam.”
She hated how easily it rolled off her tongue now.
But she also didn’t cry this time.
She just opened her notes app and typed:
> Current Total Raised: ₱67,200
Target: ₱290,000
Deadline: 2 days
Then she locked her phone.
And whispered to her reflection:
“I’ll sell everything I am if I have to. But I won’t let them die.”
---
Scene: Ayra’s Dorm Room – Night Before the Deadline
Clothes.
Old perfume bottles.
Three textbooks she barely touched.
A pair of heels she once wore to a gala.
All of it gone.
She’d sold her jewelry, her phone (now using a borrowed one), and even pawned her laptop — the one she needed for school. All she had now were printed handouts and borrowed chargers.
Her spreadsheet glared back at her from a library computer screen:
> Total: ₱182,200
Shortfall: ₱107,800
Deadline: 12 hours
She exhaled through clenched teeth.
She had nothing left to give.
No family. No friends.
Only one name left. A name she swore she’d never call.
Jason Cross.
---
Scene: – Jaden’s Penthouse Suite – 2:00 AM
It was silent when she knocked. Cold air drifted through the hallways of the exclusive top floor where billionaire's could live.
Jaden opened the door shirtless, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand.
He blinked. Then smirked. “Well, well.”
Ayra didn’t smile. “I need your help.”
He leaned against the doorframe, amused. “So the ice queen melts after all. What happened? The fans stop donating?”
She didn’t answer.
“Come in.”
She hesitated — then stepped inside. The suite smelled of leather and musk. A girl’s earrings were on the side table. Music played faintly from another room.
Jaden poured himself another drink, not offering her one.
“I’ll pay for your mom’s dialysis,” he said without being asked. “One month.”
Ayra blinked. “Why—”
“Because I want something. One month. Your time. Just your time.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You want to sleep with me?”
Jaden chuckled darkly. “Not everything’s about s*x. But if that’s what it becomes, that’s your choice.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want your company. You’ll come when I say, leave when I’m done. Pretend to like me in public. Pretend to belong here again. Smile when I ask. Shut up when I don’t.”
Ayra looked like she’d been slapped.
He leaned closer. “You want the full package? Each additional month, I’ll pay another round of bills. ICU, coma care, your tuition… everything. But only if you stay.”
Her throat tightened. “You’re disgusting.”
“Yet you’re here.”
Silence.
He walked toward her slowly. “This is a game you lost before it began, Hale. You’re desperate. And I… have everything.”
She looked him in the eye — fire in her bones.
Then nodded. Once.
“I’ll do the month.”
Jaden smiled lazily. “Of course you will.”
---
Scene: Ayra’s Dorm – Just Before Dawn
She didn’t cry.
She sat down at her desk, folded the hospital bills neatly, and placed them in her drawer beside her mother’s rosary.
Then she scribbled in her notebook.
> “I made a deal with the devil. For you. One month. Just one month.”
She closed the book.
And whispered into the dark:
“He’ll regret offering me a contract. Because I’ll burn the whole game down before I let him own me"
---
Scene: Jaden’s Penthouse – The Morning After
Ayra sat on the edge of the expensive leather couch, a mug of untouched coffee in her hands. Her shoulders were tense, her eyes hollow but unwavering.
Jaden walked out of his bedroom freshly showered, towel around his neck, phone in hand.
“Contracts are so formal,” he said lazily, tossing a signed paper on the table. “But I like things clean. Legal. No misunderstandings.”
Ayra looked down at the document.
> “Mutual Agreement of Companionship – One Month Term”
“All hospital bills under Ayra Hale’s name covered.”
“Subject to discretion and availability of Jaden Cross.”
“No obligations. No intimacy required… unless requested and agreed.”
Her stomach turned at that last line. She looked up sharply. “You want me to agree to be used whenever you feel like it?,that wasn't what we agreed on”
Jaden didn’t flinch. He sat across from her, legs apart, gaze unreadable.
“I’m offering the truth,” he said. “No strings, just honesty. You said you'd give anything. I want everything. Not just appearances. Not just your presence. I want control.”
He leaned in, lowering his voice.
“Be my toy. For a month. Mine to dress. To show off. To touch. If I want you on your knees, I expect obedience.”
Ayra’s jaw clenched. Her fingers curled into fists.
Jaden continued. “One word, and your mom’s treatments start this afternoon. Say no… and I’ll rip this contract up and sleep like a baby.”
Silence.
Ayra stood.
Her voice was ice. “You can buy my time, Jaden. But you’ll never own me.”
He tilted his head. “Yet here you are.”
She grabbed the pen and signed.
Not because she submitted.
But because she had no choice
---
Scene: Dorm Bathroom – Later That Day
She stood under freezing water, hands pressed against the tile.
She wasn’t ashamed.
She was angry.
At life.
At fate.
At every person who vanished when she needed them most.
But she whispered again, under her breath.
“One month. Just one month.”
what next?
find out in chapters to come
- Writer
