RUIN ME | 18+

・ GISELLE ・ "Next person," I said, my voice carrying just enough cheer to balance the endless shuffle of customers. The rhythm of it all had become like second nature to me. Scanning barcodes, counting pills, sealing bottles, stapling receipts. Routine was safe and predictable. The elderly woman who stepped forward clutched her purse to her chest, her hands trembling as she slid her prescription across the counter. "Insulin refill, dear," she said softly. I nodded, keying in the order. Her fingers shook as she adjusted her glasses, and something about the way she hovered nervous and uncertainly, made me watch her a little closer than usual. Once the payment cleared, I tucked the vial into a small brown paper bag, folded it neatly, and placed the receipt on top. "Here you go," I said gently, sliding it across to her. She gave me a wavering smile. "Thank you. My blood sugar’s been very unpredictable lately. Low today." Her voice dropped, confessional, like she was admitting a weakness. I returned her smile with a small nod. "Take care of yourself, okay?" The next man in line stepped forward, rattling off his name and date of birth, and I pulled up his profile, moving on autopilot. But movement caught my eye just past the register. The elderly woman was fumbling with her bag. She turned to a girl in line, maybe college-aged, and asked in a frail voice, "Could you… help me for just a moment?" The girl rolled her eyes, scoffing. "Uh, no? Ask someone else." Heat pricked at the back of my neck. I glanced at my coworker two stations down. "Can you take this line for me?" I murmured, already slipping off my gloves. She nodded, sliding into place without question. I rounded the counter, weaving past the small crowd until I reached the woman. She looked smaller now, anxious in the harsh fluorescent light, clutching the paper bag as if it were something fragile. "It’s okay," I said softly, crouching beside her. "Let me help." I guided her to the small seating area near the consultation booth, the hum of customers fading behind us. Her hands were trembling harder now, her skin pale and clammy. "Let’s just sit for a minute," I said, helping her into the chair. I grabbed the glucometer from the drawer, slipping on a fresh pair of gloves. "I’m going to check your blood sugar, alright?" She nodded faintly, watching me the way people do when they’re embarrassed to need help. The reading blinked on the screen, low enough to make my stomach tighten. "Okay," I said gently, keeping my voice calm. "We’re going to fix that." I prepped her dose, following every step exactly the way we’re trained to... clean hands, correct pen, correct units. Once she’d taken it, I left her briefly. I dug into my bag behind the counter and pulled out the banana muffin I’d bought that morning and never got around to eating. I grabbed a bottle of water from the staff fridge on my way back and handed both to her. "Here. Eat this, please,"I said, crouching beside her again. She tried to protest. "Oh, sweetheart, I couldn’t—" "Yes, you can," I cut in with a small smile. "And I’m not leaving until you finish it." Her lips twitched into the faintest smile as she broke off a piece and ate. I sat with her the whole time, watching the color return to her face as she sipped the water between bites. The store kept moving around us. Customers coming and going, scanners beeping, phones ringing, but for that moment, it was just her and me. By the time the clock struck one, she looked steadier and her voice was stronger. I went and signed in my lunch time, announced it to the other supervisor then left. I offered the older woman my arm and walked her outside into the weak afternoon sunlight. "This where your ride’s meeting you or will you be taking a cab?" I asked. She nodded, clutching her purse. "My son’s on his way. He fusses if I walk too far." "Good son, then," I said lightly. Her smile turned knowing. "Overprotective more than good. I’m Evelyn, by the way." "Giselle," I said. "It’s nice to meet you, Evelyn." "You too, sweetheart. And thank you very much." I smiled and nodded. "Anytime." We didn’t have to wait long. A sleek black car pulled up to the curb, and a man about my age leaned out the window. The resemblance was clear... the sharp eyes, the same shape of mouth. "Mom," he said, his tone clipped. "Didn’t I tell you to wait until I got back from work to handle this?" Rude much? Evelyn’s smile faltered. "You were busy, darling. I didn’t want to bother you." He sighed, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. "You can’t keep doing this." I crossed my arms, biting back the words that wanted to spill out. He wasn’t yelling, but the impatience in his voice made my chest tighten. Evelyn climbed into the back seat without arguing, her shoulders slightly slumped. That was when I noticed the passenger in the front seat. A brunette with too much makeup and a neckline too low for October, her breasts almost spilling out. She glanced at Evelyn with a mocking scoff, then went back to reapplying her lipstick in the visor mirror. I forced a polite smile and waved as Evelyn looked back at me through the window. She smiled faintly in return before the car pulled away. Checking my watch, I saw I still had forty-five minutes left of my lunch break. Long enough to grab a coffee. Maybe even another muffin. But as I turned back toward the pharmacy, that small frown Evelyn’s son had left on her face stuck with me. Such an asshole. ・・・ Lunch went by in a quiet blur. The restaurant was half full, the soft murmur of conversation blending with the clinking of silverware. I sat by the window, eating slowly, scrolling through my phone without really seeing anything. Thirty minutes later, I tossed my trash, ordered another sandwich to go, and paid at the counter before stepping back into the afternoon light. The sun had softened, hanging low over the street as I made my way back toward the pharmacy. Halfway there, I spotted Marty’s cart parked near the old bus stop. His blanket-covered pile of belongings sat beside him, and he was leaning over a cup of coffee like it was the only warmth he had left in the world. When he saw me, his eyes brightened. "Afternoon, Miss Giselle," he said, straightening a little. "You look real nice today. Don’t come too close, though. I don’t wanna get you dirty." I smiled, walking closer anyway. "Marty, if I was worried about that, I wouldn’t keep coming back." He chuckled softly, rubbing his hands together. "Guess that’s true." I handed him the bag of food and the folded fifteen dollars I’d slipped inside. "Here. It’s still warm, so don’t let it sit too long. Also, there is something extra in the bag for you too." He looked at the bag like it was something sacred. "You’re too kind. God bless you, you know that?" "Thank you and you too. Just eat, Marty," I said with a grin. "And try to stay in the shade today, alright?" "I will. You have yourself a good day now." "You too." I walked the rest of the way back to work, the smell of city air mixing with the faint scent of my takeout bag. The rest of the afternoon passed without much excitement. Prescriptions, phone calls, patient questions. By the time five o’clock rolled around, my feet ached, and my brain felt foggy from the hum of fluorescent lights. I clocked out, said goodbye to the team, and headed for the parking lot. My Camry gleamed in the fading sunlight, one of the few big things I’d allowed myself. The car had been bought with what was left of my college fund, the one my parents had set aside before everything fell apart. I’d used part of it for school, part of it for this car, and kept the rest tucked away for a future I hadn’t decided on yet. On my way home, I made a small stop at the store to get some more dog food for Daisy because she will run out any time soon. Home was quiet, except for the sound of Daisy’s paws tapping across the floor as soon as I opened the door. Her tail wagged like a metronome of pure joy. "Hey, baby," I said, dropping my bag and kneeling to scratch her behind the ears. "Miss me?" She barked once in response, then trotted to her food bowl. I laughed. "I’ll take that as a yes. I miss you too." "Let me get you something to eat before I start my evening routine." I stood up, picking up the bags and headed to the kitchen. By the time I scooped her food into her bowl and got the laundry started, my phone was already buzzing on the counter. Annora. I put her on speaker and stirred the pasta on the stove. "Hey, you." "Oh my God, Giselle, if I have to hear Brian say ‘calm down’ one more time, I swear I’m going to throw his Xbox out the window," she said without even saying hello. I smirked. "So, normal Tuesday then?" "This isn’t funny. He forgot our anniversary dinner. Again. And then tried to say he thought it was next week." "Maybe he did think that," I said carefully. "He didn’t, Giselle. I literally sent him a reminder last night." I opened a cabinet for plates, biting back a laugh. "Okay, that’s bad. But maybe he can make it up to you. Flowers, dinner, groveling... those are all solid options." "I don’t want flowers. I want effort." "Fair," I said, pouring Daisy’s water. "But you’ve also been saying that since last year. Maybe it’s time to ask yourself if he’s ever going to give that to you." There was a long sigh on the other end. "You always sound so rational. It’s annoying." I smiled. "I’ll take that as a compliment." While she ranted, I moved through my small kitchen in practiced rhythm while I made dinner. Garlic sizzling in butter, noodles draining in the sink, Daisy circling my legs like she knew dinner meant a bite or two for her too. Annora kept talking, her words tumbling over each other in frustration. I listened, offered sympathy where I could, advice when she’d let me. This was our routine. Her chaos. My calm. By the time I sat down to eat, she was still going, but her voice had softened, tired now. "You’re too good to me, you know that?" she murmured. "I try," I said, smiling into my bowl of pasta. If only I believed I was as put-together as she seemed to think. Dinner was simple— chicken pasta, a little too much butter, and the sound of Annora still venting through the speakerphone. Daisy had settled at my feet, her head resting on her paws, eyes tracking every move I made with quiet hope for dropped food. "I’m just saying, if he forgets again, I’m done," Annora said between crunches of something that definitely wasn’t part of her diet. "You’ve said that before," I teased, twirling the fork in my bowl. "This time I mean it," she replied, though her tone already hinted otherwise. I smiled, shaking my head. "You always mean it, Nora. You just never follow through." She groaned. "Because I have terrible taste in men, and you’re too nice to let me wallow properly." Before I could respond, the doorbell rang. I frowned, setting my fork down. "Hold on a second," I said, standing. Daisy’s head shot up, ears perked, tail flicking once in curiosity. The bell rang again. I walked to the door, peering through the peephole. The hallway was empty. No footsteps or voices. Just the soft hum of the light above my door. “I don’t see anyone.” "Probably a delivery," Annora said in my ear. "Maybe," I muttered, unlocking the door and cracking it open just enough to peek outside. A single black gift bag sat on the doormat. No delivery tag or note. Just matte black paper and thin ribbon handles, like something you’d get from a boutique. I opened the door fully, looked both ways down the hall, then bent to pick it up. The air outside was still, the quiet almost heavy. "I’ll call you back," Annora said suddenly. "Brian’s texting. He probably realized he messed up again." "Alright. Love you," I said absently, closing and locking the door behind me. "Love you too," she replied before the line clicked off. I set the bag on the counter, sliding the ribbon loose. Inside was a white box with black lid, small and neat, with a black ribbon placed carefully on top. My heartbeat picked up, soft but noticeable, as I lifted the lid. Resting inside was my pink scarf. The same one I’d lost two days ago on my walk home and was going crazy since I couldn't find it. I smoothed my fingers over the familiar fabric, the faint scent of my perfume still clinging to it. At the bottom of the box sat a small white card. The note was printed, not handwritten. Saw you dropped this a few days back. Thought I’d return it. I stared at the words for a long moment, my reflection faintly visible in the glossy paper. No name. No address. Just that one sentence. Daisy barked softly from the living room, her tail thumping against the couch. I swallowed, setting the card down beside the scarf. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe someone had just been kind. But as I stood there, the apartment suddenly felt smaller, and a little too quiet. And deep down, I wasn’t sure if this was kindness… or attention.