Chapter 23 : 𝕾𝖓𝖊𝖆𝖐 𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

𝕸𝖆𝖋𝖎𝖆’𝖘 𝕹𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖘

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

“How did it go?” Antonio throated, without looking up.

Grinch sighed, sinking into one of the seats,

Darting his eyes around, he needn't be told that Antonio just had a marathon, because the air was thick with strong scent of c*m.

“All done. No suspicion.”

Blade nodded once. “Put the executor on the discreet payroll. Quietly. I don’t want issues like last time.”

Grinch smirked. “I already sent him the executional bonus”

Antonio chuckled in response. “Let's see how far Breanna would go now? She's just digging her grave.”

☆☆☆☆𝕸𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖈𝖐 𝕳𝖔𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖑..{𝕰𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 5:34𝖕𝖒}☆☆☆☆

“…I know it’s overwhelming, Nevena. But ignoring your body won’t make the sickness go away,” the dietician nurse said, walking alongside her, gently but firmly holding a folder of her charts.

“You need to take your meds—consistently. You’re not going to outrun this with sheer willpower, Nevena”

Her voice was a mix of professional concern and personal hope.

The kind that clings to patients who've been difficult but not lost.

“I know..i'm just tired” Nevena murmured, adjusting the hoodie over her head, her tone low.

“It feels like my body belongs to the hospital more than it does to me—that's why it just feels easier not to fight.”

“You say that like your body hasn’t been fighting for you all this while,” the nurse countered softly.

She gave a sympathetic smile, keeping pace beside her.

“My dear it has—It only needs your help to make it feel like it belongs to you again. Miss Bachvarov, you've got to show up for yourself.”

“Consistency!”, the nurse continued. “Start with your pill. Then food, every bite—we’ll work on a meal plan that doesn’t make you miserable”

Nevena gave a dry chuckle. “I doubt the food part, because I always lose appetite.”

“Okay, whenever it comes by, start with the bland options, Low sodium. High fiber. You know the drill.”

“That sounds like prison food.” Nevena groaned.

“It’s freedom food”. The nurse chuckled.

“Freedom from fatigue. Freedom from bloating. Freedom from low filtration.”

“Alright” Nevena nodded slowly, eyes scanning the speckled hospital tiles as they walked. “But—I’m not promising I’ll like it,”

“You don’t have to like it,” the nurse replied.

“You just have to eat it. Ignoring it means you’re not just hurting yourself—but you’re also delaying the chance to stabilize.”

Nevena gave a ghost of a smile, more like a breath. “You’re starting to sound like my sponsor....in a recovery group.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” the nurse chuckled. “For broccoli, low-sodium meals, fruits. Welcome to the club...cause I'm your official guide.”

“We just want you to live—not survive. There’s a difference, you know.”

“Yes.” This time, Nevena stopped walking. “I will take it seriously from now henceforth.”

The nurse paused, looking at her, gauging the seriousness in her voice. Then nodded. “Good.”

They reached the corridor junction, the nurse paused again to glance down her clipboard. “I’ll see you again Tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah,” Nevena said, already turning away. “Tomorrow".

“That's wonderful ,” the nurse replied lightly, then grew serious again.

“But you need to book your dialysis. You’re skating too close to danger, and you know it”

“You’ve been brave, yes—but bravery isn’t a substitute for treatment.” she completed.

“I will.” Nevena sighed, pulling her hoodie tighter around her face. “Once I return to Bulgaria, next tomorrow”.

The nurse nodded, checking something off on a clipboard.

Nevena turned her head out of boredom—but something tugged at her, a quiet gravity from the other side of the corridor.

Junior.

Just a glance over her shoulder—slouched on a bench across the corridor. The familiar mop of curls.

His presence struck her like a sharp inhale—unplanned, and the worst was that he still sat like he was waiting for someone.

The nurse barely noticed her sudden stillness.

“Miss Bachvarov—I have to dismiss you, grab your medicine on your—?”

“What’s he still doing here?” Nevena interrupted, nodding subtly toward the hallway. “That’s the boy in Ward C, right? Junior?”

The nurse followed her gaze, then her posture deflating with the sigh.

“Yeah”

“I thought he was discharged”. Nevena asked, her brows drawing together.

“Yes he was. Yesterday morning.”

Nevena turned fully at the corridor, staring. “Then why is he still here?”

The nurse lowered her clipboard, voice tinged with quiet frustration.

“We’ve called his only parent, his mother—over and over. No positive response. The front desk has left voicemails, even texted but she never showed up. It’s like she just… forgot him.”

Nevena blinked. “You’re literally saying… she forgot him?”

“I don’t know,” the nurse replied softly, folding her arms. “But that kid has been sitting in that same spot just like yesterday,”

Nevena glanced back at Junior. He was watching the entrance doors quietly. His chin propped on his knees,

“Does he know?” her voice cracked out low.

“I think so,” the nurse replied. “Deep down—kids know when they’re being left behind, even if they can’t admit it out loud.”

“Poor kid” Nevena whispered, something twisting in her chest.

She knew that waiting silence, because she had once been a victim, especially when her father would travel and entrust her well-being with her stepmother.

“I’ll check in on him again soon,” the nurse added, bringing her back to reality.

She gently touched Nevena’s arm. “Go home—focus on your health, diet and rest, okay?

All she listed didn't make Nevena move, her eyes stayed locked on the small boy with cast, and too much silence around him.

“Was fate being just cruel… or just partial towards some people?” She wondered.

As the nurse walked off, Nevena lingered only for a second.

Exhaling through her nose, she walked toward him—unsure of what she wanted to say to him.

“Junior, right?” she asked immediately she reached, but got no answer.

She didn’t argue. Instead she gently uprighted his bag and sat beside him, letting the silence stretch.

For the next Ten minutes, Junior didn't move.

His small arms were crossed, his casted leg stiff, and head bowed just slightly.

His discharge file lay on the chair, wrinkled from hours of being squeezed, unfolded, and folded again.

Nevena’s heart thudded louder, unsure of how to crack his resolve.

She glanced toward the hallway—it was empty.

Unzipping her bag, she brought out the untouched cup Juice he offered her on their first meeting.

She pierced the straw through the lid and placed it beside him.

He finally turned his head, recognizing the juice. His fingers absently picked at the edge, tracing the rim.

Nevena watched his hands and nodded. It felt safe enough to speak.

“I was hoping to taste a little Mexican innocence in that juice—but I guess you need it more.”

“Go away,”

Junior snapped, glancing at her. “Why are you even talking to me?”

“Because you’re sitting here alone, pretending nothing bothers you,” she said plainly.

“And I’ve done that enough to know it’s a lie. I used to wait for someone, too. My mom—but she never showed up when I needed her.”

“Why?”

“Because she went on a trip to heaven,” Nevena replied with a weak smile. “She was just too eager to meet God... so she left me behind.”

Junior stared at her for a long moment and sighed.

“You’re weird,” he sneered. "Why exaggerate it when you could have just said that she's late."

Nevena leaned back on the bench, arms folded loosely. “That makes two of us... Weirdos.”

Junior gave the smallest, grudging twitch of a smile, taking the juice.

“So— when was her passing onto Glory ?” he asked, curiosity flickering faintly behind his sadness. “My condolences though”.

“I was your age then.” Nevena said softly. “I never really got to enjoy my childhood with her. And my stepmom wasn’t always nice.”

Junior nodded solemnly, an understanding far beyond his years.

“Absence didn’t put a dent on you. You don’t look pitiable... How did you overcome it?”

Nevena gave a small, sad chuckle, tilting her head.

> If only he knew that she has a few years to live, he won't have said that she's not pitiable

“Not really.” she whispered, her chest aching in that familiar way—the way it did when she remembers her childhood.

“I got my fair share of bullying. But thank God my dad had my back when he was around. I also had a best friend, Stefan. He looked out for me.”

“That’s awesome,” Junior said, though the sadness in his voice was undeniable.

“Yes” Nevena giggled, recounting her favorite memories with her dad and Stefan.

Junior didn’t smile. He just stared at her, blankly.

“Hey... did something happen?” Nevena nudged him gently.

Junior sipped his juice and looked at her, serious now.

“I can’t relate to your happy memories. I’ve never met my father. My mom barely spends time with me. And I don’t have a best friend.”

Nevena’s face fell. She must have made him feel worse recounting her own joys.

She met his gaze and said softly, “I’m sorry if I made you feel like an island.”

“Nah—I’m already used to it,” he replied.

He didn’t want cheer, sympathy or distraction.

He just needed someone to sit with him in the ache—and Nevena did.

“How about I become your best friend, since you don’t have one?” she offered after a while.

“Can that even work?—You’re all grown up,” Junior said doubtfully.

“Very much so,” Nevena replied, giving him a thumbs up. “I can teach you all the games and adventures my best friend taught me.”

That part caught Junior’s attention. He’d always wanted to try adventures, but his mom never permits him.

He turned to face her, the gloom beginning to fade.

“If you really want to be my best friend... I have a condition,” Junior said.

“What is it?” Nevena demanded, giving him a sideways look. “Something like what?”

“First of all—pinky promise,” he requested, holding up his tiny pinkie.

Nevena looked at it and giggled. He was probably going to ask for junk food. Still, without hesitation, she linked her pinkie with his.

“Done,” she whispered. “Can you tell me the condition now?”

Junior leaned in closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a grand secret.

“Sneak me out of here.”