𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 39 : 𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤—𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞.

Breanna’s jaw shifted at the abrupt hang of the call—but then she brushed it off, concentrating on the road.

After a while she turned her head to the passenger seat.

Sophia perched smugly there, her knees drawn slightly up—tablet balanced and glowed softly on her lap.

Breanna exhaled slowly, and Sophia tilted her chin in recognition. With lips pressed in a barely contained grin, she met eyes cold as carved marble—Breanna’s.

There was a pause, just long enough to feel the weight of dissatisfaction.

She blinked, her smile dimming. Breanna’s glare meant she was unimpressed.

“You said we needed a window,” She began, her voice a little unsteady.

“So I established a federal liaison. That way, we can conduct a safety walkthrough—without triggering protocol.”

“Federal liaison… by faking a bomb threat.” Breanna’s voice came out flat and impassive—a facade she used to mask the pride swelling in her chest.

Sophia’s face dropped in disappointment. “I’m sorry Ma’am. You wanted us to get in quietly… sorry I went extreme.”

“Extreme?” Breanna’s eyes widened, lips drawn in a line.

Her hand shifted on the gear and she pulled over. “You’re just an aide, remember that.”

“Yes.”

“Why then did you overrode my ops and play field commander ? Sophia you hijacked a goddamn hotel line.”

Breanna’s tone was ice over fire, as if she were holding back something—

“Sorry, Ma’am.” Sophia muttered in remorse

“Jesus,” Breanna gasped, fingers tapping the wheel. “Who taught you that?”

“You did,” Sophia blurted out unknowingly—too fast.

The response made Breanna pause, her gaze slicing sideways at her.

Without warning—whack.

A hard, audible thud landed on Sophia’s shoulder—not enough to hurt, but enough to send a message. She flinched, rubbing her shoulder

“Keep your mouth shut about that.” Breanna added sharply.

“About you teaching me?” Sophia let out a breathy laugh.

“About everything, Sophie.” Breanna’s stern facade shattered, lips curling into a mischievous grin.

“You wouldn't want us to get suspended?’’ She jabbed Sophia's shoulder playfully.

“Not at all” Sophia winces, her grin rekindling. “It was an uncalculated risk. You wanted a distraction, and I created one.”

“Uncalculated risk you say?” Breanna’s voice dropped low. “C’mon, Sophie—you built a goddamn skylight.”

“I wish you could hear his voice. He abruptly hung up the call when I mentioned Cesar and Victor.”

Sophia nodded with a self-complacent smile, while Breanna giggled aloud.

She held Sophia’s shoulder happily, jolting her sideways. “It was so thoughtful of you to mimic their signal tower.”

“Really?”

“Yeah—you added just the killer tension, and he fell for it by calling the Commissioner.”

“He probably didn’t know we exist in this version of the story,” Sophia chipped in.

“Correct—let’s go show him who’s the boss.”

Fingers immediately wrapped tight around the steering wheel. Street illuminating with lights—welcoming lanes.

☆☆𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐚’𝐬 𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞☆☆

☆10:15𝐩𝐦☆

“You can’t stay with me,” Nevena repeated, steady but strained.

“The abduction stunt was reckless enough. First thing tomorrow, you’re going back to your Mother.”

“No.” His answer was instant, flat.

Nevena's brows pinched. “Don’t start. This isn’t negotiable—”

“Mama hasn't called yet—how about that”

Nevena's heart pinched, but she hardened her tone.

“Look, I'm not your legal guardian…therefore I have no constitutional right over you—i’d just send you back to the hospital”.

“I’m not going back.” Junior’s chin lifted in defiance.

“Junior—” Nevena's pulse kicked. She hastily rinsed the last plate and turned to him.

“You’re a kid remember that. This isn’t a game. You think running off to a total stranger is brave? It’s reckless.” Her voice was taut with fatigue.

Junior’s small fists curled tightly, his stubbornness battling her exhaustion.

“I disagree" he screamed, stamping a sneakered foot against the floor. “It’s more reckless for a mother to leave her kid alone"

“Junior—things aren't simple as it seems”

“Lie—It’s all simple!” His voice cracked into a sob. “You just can't admit it”

Nevena felt her throat close, she couldn't utter a word.

In a single motion Junior lowered on his knees. “Please bestie, I want to be reckless with this Bulgarian tourist—don't say no”.

There was silence, thick with the unsaid words.

After what felt like eternity, Nevena exhaled sharply, raking a hand over her face.

“Don’t put words in my mouth—”

Junior watched her walk away from the kitchen, without looking back.

The kitchen turned quiet, except for the dripping of water.

Junior found his way to the room. There, Nevena lay still on the bed, knees drawn in tight.

He stood a few feet away from the bed and scrutinized her—though she didn't move, he was sure that she's still awake.

“If you can—Do come to my school's seminar tomorrow,” he demanded, breath hitching.

“Only for two hours. I want to know how kids feel with their guardian beside them at events. After that, I’ll never bother you again.”

The request gutted Nevena. All her rehearsed resolve shattered at once.

He was just a boy standing in the wreckage of too many broken promises, begging her not to be another.

Without another request he crawled onto the bed. Sobs poured out, which later slowed into hiccups, breaths catching against Nevena’s shoulder.

After some minutes, he released a tired sigh,

Their fight drained him out, leaving him smaller, softer.

Sleep.

Nevena turned at his snore, careful not to disturb him.

He has curled right into her, cheek pressed against her back as though afraid she’d vanish if he let go.

For a while she just watched him—the faint rise and fall of his chest, the way his lashes clung together from dried tears.

Her throat closed, he was too young to look this tired.

She would have taken him but it was foolish to gather broken things

at this point of her life.

But Junior. He was just too young to understand.

“Miss Nevena…” Junior's breath hitched. “Don’t send me back—please.” he cried, voice tiny.

Nevena pulled him in, to her bossom—fingers raking over his curls.

“I won't baby—God help me, I won't.”

The confession vanished into her throat, swallowed by sobs.

She felt him stir, but instead of waking, he burrowed his head deeper into her cleavage, tiny fists clutching at her.

Nevena bit down on her lower lip to keep quiet, she can't let him see her in tears.

When his grip loosened—deeper sleep, she slid away—not before pulling the blanket over his small frame.

At the living room her eyes fell on his backpack and bucket still slumped by the couch, she crouched and opened it.

Inside was a mess: crackers, the seminar’s invitation, marbles, and crumpled notebooks scrawled with half-finished words.

At the very bottom, his school uniform was bunched into a wrinkled ball.

She pulled the uniform free and pressed it to her face, inhaling the faint scent of sweat and childhood.

His mother has checked it since he changed into the hospital's gown.

The weight of that thought broke through her and she whispered to the empty room, voice breaking,

“You don’t belong to me but if a way happens to part, I will definitely come back for you— and I’d never let you go.”

Her eyes lifted to the clock. Past ten. A long and weary exhalation followed.

She rolled up her sleeves and headed to the bathroom with the uniform.