𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 37 : 𝐌𝐲 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐏𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚'𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬**

“{Porque no va a expectar que demos vuelta por un town tan clean— por si acaso está planeando un sabotage} Because he won’t expect a detour through such a clean town— just in case he’s planning a sabotage.”

Antonio gave a slow, approving nod.

“That’s solid.” He checked his watch, adjusting his tie at the same time.

“Ya mero es tiempo pa' que firme el deal {It's almost time for me to sign the deal}”

“¡Mucha suerte!{Break a leg}” Grinch murmured, tone casual.

A grin formed on Antonio's lips and he turned his head at Grinch.

“Romperte la pierna está fine—pero no te metas al hospital bed, okay?{Breaking a leg is fine. Just not breaking into the hospital bed}”

Grinch caught the jab, molars grinding. “¡Pinche cabrón!{F**king bastard!}”

But Antonio was already striding out of the corridor, dipping back into the room briefly to crouch for his phone on Grinch’s bed.

☆☆☆ 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐚’𝐬 𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 — ☆☆☆

⟡⟡⟡ 𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 — 7:30PM ⟡⟡⟡

The wind picked up Nevena's scarf and slapped it across her cheek immediately she stepped out of the cab.

Butt-shutting the cab's door with her waist, whilst cradling two overstuffed bags from the mall against her side.

“Thanks Mister” she acknowledged—Bulgarian accent undeniable.

The bags crinkled with each tired step as she trudged back to her lodge,

A yellow cab sat parked right at the edge of the narrow driveway—its headlights fogged, engine purring like a waiting threat.

The driver was slumped over the wheel with a paper cup clutched in one hand, the other tapping the console in frustration.

She paid it little mind and continued, thinking of how to escape the voice on the phone—wedged between her shoulder and ear.

Stefan rattles—sharp and unrelenting.

“They called me from the hospital, Nevena. You missed your appointment. Do you have a death wish or something?”

“Ai-sh” Nevena winced, trying to squeeze words in between the tirade.

“I know. Stefan, please. I was just tired, moreover I'm fine, no need to go there since I'm flying back to Bulgaria next tomorrow, remember?"

“Nevena! Are you even listening to yourself? What’s the point of coming back if you won’t even follow up checkups—” Stefan's voice spills fury from the other end.

Nevena's sandals hit the first porch step. “Stefan. I’m sorry, okay?” she muttered, quickening her pace.

“Sorry isn't going to work! Skipping checkups doesn’t cancel the diagnosis—you can’t keep ignoring that”

“Fine, I’ll be on a flight home by tomorrow night. You can yell at me all you want there—just...not now.” She mimics a tired tone, hoping it will get Stefan.

„Защо си такъв?{Why are you like this—?}“ Stefan growled. “I'm not buying your emotional blackmails—Nevena Bachvarov I'm placing you on bed arrest.”

Nevena gave a disappointed sigh and climbed the last porch stairs.

She reached for her key, but she couldn't find it.

“Nevena—are you even listening to—”

“I’m literally looking for my front door key. Please. One minute—” she cut in sharply, shouldering her phone tightly to her ear.

Unhesitatingly, she freed a hand by dropping one bag at her feet.

“Намерих го{Found ya}”

She dug the key out, leaning forward to slot it.

Right from the porch wall, a shadow detached itself, quick and quiet. But the porch light buzzed.

Nevena instinctively picked up the signal, and she turned—eyes darting to the edge of the porch.

A shadow.

„Не пак! {Not again}“. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

That old, feral terror fraying through.

Fingers immobilized, and key slipped, hitting the ground with a metallic ping.

“Nevena? Hello? Nevena” Stefan’s voice crackled faintly from the speaker—no response.

Shaking herself out of the haze, every nerve fired up for safety, just like the local police coached her.

She ran her gaze to the emergency buzzer—two arms away from her reach.

Her heart thundered—fear, but she took a step forward. The shadow took two.

Unfazed.

Her body recoiled with strangled gasps—phone clattering on the pavement with a harsh crack.

Stefan’s voice now a distant sputter.

„Какво става? Кой е там с теб?! {What's happening ? Who's there with you?!}“

Nevena's entire body screamed run, but her mind couldn’t keep up.

Next, she thought about raising alarm, since it's more likely that any police on patrol would hear her scream.

But just before she could make up her mind, the shadow stepped into the porch light. Revealing himself.

Small sneakers.

Familiar curls and eyes too calm.

Junior

He set his bucket on the floor, and blinked at her.

“Good evening” he muttered casually.

He bent down—calm as a monk, picked up her phone, and held it out with both hands, like he was handing her a flower.

“You dropped this,”

Nevena stared at him, unblinkingly—chest aching with the thump-thump-thump of pure, unfiltered fear.

She took the phone in slow motion, fingers trembling.

The device still on, buzzed in her possession—Stefan’s relentless screams.

„Невена? Ало? Какво става?! {Nevena? Hello? What’s happening?!}“

Still bewildered to continue the call, she simply hung up.

“You took forever,” Junior voiced, a curious tilt in his head, as though she were the one who owed him answers. “What kept you so lat—?”

His eyes flicked to the bags beside her feet. “Oh! that mall must be a gigantic one”

Nevena’s head dropped, bracing her weight with one hand against her knee, the other hand hovering over her chest—sucking air in through her nose like it was limited.

Junior cocked his head at her display “You okay?—you look like you saw a ghost.”

His voice was calm. Innocent. Completely unaware of the warzone still screaming in her bloodstream.

“Junior!” She called hoarsely, adrenaline making it impossible to stabilize her tone.

“What… what are you—you scared the hell out of me,”

“How?” he asked, genuinely confused.

Nevena blinked—once, twice— and exhaled sharply

“That aside. How are you here?” she interrogated, her eyes darting behind him like someone else might emerge from the shadows. “Who—who brought you?”

“Nobody,” Junior shrugged with the cool detachment of a tiny mob boss. “I came all by mys..."

HOOONK!

The cab outside the porch blared, Loud and sharp.

Junior turned his head lazily, toward the sound, then back at Nevena, with zero guilt in his expression.

“Can you please handle the bill?” he asked, gesturing nonchalantly over his shoulder.

“Told him my friend would pay when she comes back. So... here you are.”

Nevena stretched her gaze at the man seated at the car, then back at the boy standing before her.

„Невероятно!{Unbelievable—}“ she sighed.

It took five full seconds before her mouth opened again. “How much is it?”

Junior counted his fingers and then met her gaze, “Sincerely, It’s… kinda a bit overdue. Like—two hours overdue.”

“Wait… you’ve been sitting in that cab—for over two hours?”

“No way” Junior countered with a chuckle. “I took a walk down the street while we waited for you”

The car honked again,

“He’s getting pretty mad,” Junior rasped, holding out his hand like a debt collector.

Nevena looked at his tiny hands and stepped past him, to the cab.

On reaching, she pulled some bills from her wallet, and slapped them through the open passenger window.

The driver muttered a thank-you, reversed, and pulled away into the dark.

She turned back to Junior—still standing on her porch like a landlord checking if she deserved to come in.

“Inside.”

She pointed toward the door. “Now”

He bent and picked up the key, brushing its surface off with a kind of gentle ownership that didn’t belong on a child’s face.

Adjusting the knob of the door, he slid in the key, unlocking it.

“You can scold me later. Bestie.” He remarked, stepping inside with his bucket—like he owned the space.

“But here's the thing, you don't have to worry about dinner—cause I already had some crackers.”

The room swallowed the rest of his sentence, but Nevena heard it loud and clear.

Standing on the porch, for a second longer, one hand braced on the wall, the other on her waist.

“Who let him out?” Her head spines with one question.

Without hesitation, she picked up the bags and followed him in.