A Bar (Continued)

Joseph's gaze lifted. He stared at her attentively.

"It's just me and my little brother now," she continued. "He's... not well. He has a heart condition."

Her fingers twisted together unconsciously.

"He needs surgery. I've been saving. But apparently, my dad didn't die alone. His death brought more problems. Debts everywhere. So my savings were mostly spent on paying those debts."

Silence—heavy but not uncomfortable.

Joseph reached for another sip, slower this time.

"You shouldn't drink," he murmured when she lifted the glass she'd poured herself.

"I'm not," she said, though she took a small sip anyway. "Just a little."

"Come with me," he said after a while.

"To where?"

"My grandmother's birthday dinner."

Rachel stared at him.

"We literally just met."

"I know."

"And you want me to pretend to be your date?"

"I don't want you to pretend," he corrected. "Just... be there."

She let out a breath.

"I have my brother. I can't just leave him."

"I'll cover the surgery."

The words seemed to hit a nerve because her expression changed instantly.

"No."

"It's nothing to me," he said.

"It's everything to me," she shot back.

He didn't flinch.

"I can transfer it tomorrow."

"Stop." Her voice sharpened, shaken.

The softness from earlier pulled back slightly. Not in a cold way, but somehow protective.

"You don't get to solve my life because we had a conversation," she said. "You've already paid for drinks and my time. That's enough."

Joseph tilted his head as he watched her carefully.

"I'm not buying you."

"I know," she replied. "But it feels like you're trying to fix something that isn't yours to fix."

That made him pause midway. The lump in his throat threatened to return—not from fear, but from something unfamiliar.

"You don't trust me," he said quietly.

"We just met."

"And yet," he added, "you told me about your brother."

She looked away first.

"That doesn't mean I'll take your money."

He leaned back slightly, staring at her like she was a puzzle piece.

"Okay," he said at last. "But the invitation still stands."

Rachel exhaled slowly.

"I have to go back to work now. Thanks for this."

"Your number?" he said, stretching his hand toward her.

She took the phone, dialed her number into it, and returned it.

"I'll take my leave," she said as she walked away.

He looked at her, and soon he finished his drink, paid with a tip, took his keys, and left.

--------- LATER ----------

As Rachel finished up for the night, she had just collected her pay and was counting it when her phone rang.

"Doctor Álvarez" flashed on the screen.

Her heart skipped a beat as she pressed the answer button.

"Bad news. Your brother is—"

Rachel didn't hear the rest.

The world tilted. Her knees buckled, and she grabbed the edge of the counter to steady herself.

"What?" she whispered. "What happened?"

"He's collapsed again," Dr. Álvarez said, his voice tight with urgency. "We've stabilized him for now, but his condition is deteriorating faster than we anticipated. We need to operate within forty-eight hours, or..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.

"I'm coming," Rachel said, her voice shaking. "I'm coming right now."

She didn't wait for a response. She ended the call, shoved her phone into her pocket, and ran.

~~~~~~~~ HOSPITAL UNIVERSITARIO LA PAZ ~~~~~~

11:47 PM Rachel burst through the hospital doors for the second time that day, her chest heaving, her vision blurred with tears she refused to let fall.

She didn't stop at reception. She didn't ask for directions. She knew exactly where to go.

The ICU.

The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed faintly, casting everything in a cold, sterile glow. The smell of antiseptic burned her nose. Machines beeped rhythmically from behind curtained beds.

She found him in the third room on the left.

Benjamín.

Her little brother. Fifteen years old. Too young for this. Too young for any of this.

He looked so small in the hospital bed, wires and tubes running from his thin arms. His chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath labored.

Rachel's hand flew to her mouth, stifling a sob.

"Benjamín," she whispered, stepping closer.

His eyes fluttered open. Tired. Glassy. But still him.

"Rachel," he rasped, his voice barely audible.

She rushed to his side, grabbing his hand gently.

"I'm here," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm here. You're going to be okay."

"You always say that," he murmured, a weak smile tugging at his lips.

"Because it's always true," she replied fiercely, squeezing his hand.

But even as she said it, she felt the weight of the lie pressing down on her chest.

Dr. Álvarez entered the room a few minutes later, his expression grave.

"Rachel," he said quietly. "Can we talk outside?"

She didn't want to leave Benjamín, but she nodded, pressing a kiss to her brother's forehead before following the doctor into the hallway.

"How bad is it?" she asked, her voice flat, bracing for impact.

Dr. Álvarez sighed.

"His heart is failing faster than we expected. The medication is no longer effective. If we don't operate within the next two days, he won't make it to the end of the week."

Rachel's world spun.

"Two days," she repeated numbly.

"Yes."

"And the surgery... it's still forty thousand euros?"

"Twenty thousand up front," the doctor clarified. "The rest can be paid in installments after the procedure. But without that initial deposit, we can't schedule the operation."

Rachel closed her eyes, her mind racing.

Twenty thousand euros. In two days.

She didn't have it. She'd never have it.

"Is there... is there any other option?" she asked desperately. "Any program, any loan, anything?"

Dr. Álvarez's face softened with sympathy.

"I've already looked into every assistance program available. Your brother doesn't qualify for most of them because of your father's outstanding debts. The system sees your family as a financial risk."

Rachel wanted to scream. To punch something. To curse the universe for being so unbearably cruel.

But instead, she just nodded.

"Thank you, Doctor," she said quietly.

He hesitated, then placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Rachel. I truly am. If there was anything I could do..."

"I know," she whispered.

He left her standing in the hallway, alone.

Rachel stood there for a long time, staring at the white tile floor, her mind blank.

Twenty thousand euros.

Two days.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She pulled it out, expecting another bill, another debt collector, another reminder of how thoroughly life had destroyed her.

Instead, it was a text from an unknown number.

Unknown: It's Joseph. From the bar. I meant what I said. The offer stands.

Rachel stared at the message, her heart pounding.

She thought about Benjamín. About his weak smile. About the way he'd looked at her with so much trust, like she could fix anything.

She thought about her pride. About how taking money from a stranger felt like selling something she couldn't get back.

But then she thought about losing him.

And suddenly, pride didn't matter anymore.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Finally, she typed:

Rachel: Can we meet tomorrow?

The response came almost immediately.

Joseph: Tell me when and where.

Rachel closed her eyes, exhaling slowly.

She was about to make a deal with a man she barely knew.

But if it meant saving Benjamín...

She'd do anything.