Surrender

Ada

“My name is Alex, but you will call me Master. You have two days to settle your affairs. On Friday evening, a driver will pick you up. Don’t bring much—everything you need will be provided.”

He kept speaking, but I couldn’t hear a single word. A sharp ringing filled my ears, drowning everything out. My chest tightened, each breath coming too fast, too shallow. It felt like the room was closing in on me.

This is it. I’m really doing this.

“Thank you, Master,” I heard myself say, though it didn’t feel like my own voice.

“You may go.”

I stood up on unsteady legs, grabbed the money and one copy of the contract, and hurried out of the office—almost running.

The air outside hit me like a wave. I stopped, trying to catch my breath, and pinched my leg hard.

Was this real?..

The gravel path crunched softly under my feet as I walked down the alley, my thoughts spinning out of control.

I signed the contract.

Three weeks. A trial period.

What did that even make me now? A servant? A toy? Something worse?

And I was going to live in that house… with him.

How was any of this real?

I pressed the envelope with the money closer to my chest, as if it might disappear if I let go.

Then it hit me.

Ada.

Everything inside me snapped back into focus.

I broke into a run, barely noticing the people around me, the noise of the street, the passing cars. The world blurred into nothing but one single мысль:

I made it. I actually made it.

By the time I reached the bus, my hands were still shaking. The ride felt endless. Every second stretched painfully long.

At the hospital, I rushed through the corridors, my steps echoing too loudly against the sterile walls. The smell of antiseptic hit me instantly. Nothing had changed.

Everything was exactly the same.

Except now—I had the money.

“I found it!” I said breathlessly, spotting the doctor. “I have the money. How soon can you schedule her surgery?”

Adeline—my little sister, my whole world.

She lay there just as she had months ago, surrounded by tubes and wires, so small and fragile in that hospital bed. Nothing had changed.

Seven months.

Seven long months she had been in a coma.

And only one thing could give her a chance to wake up—a costly surgery in another country.

I moved closer, carefully taking her hand in mine. It was warm, but there was no response.

“Hey… you’re going to be okay,” I whispered softly. “You have to be. I’ll miss you so much… but soon, you’ll open your eyes, and everything will be like it used to be.”

My voice trembled despite my attempt to sound strong.

They were already preparing her for transport to Israel. Machines beeped quietly around us, nurses moved in the background, everything happening too fast—and yet not fast enough.

I forced myself to think only of the good. Only of the moment she would wake up. Smile. Call my name.

She had to.

When they finally took her away, I stood there for a few seconds longer, staring at the empty bed.

It felt wrong.

Too quiet.

Too final.

I swallowed hard, turned, and left the room.

On my way home, the weight of everything pressed down on me again.

The contract.

The house.

Him.

I pushed the thoughts aside. There would be time to be afraid later.

Now, I had to prepare.