All Chapters of My marriage was for money, his for vengeance: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

6:04 AM — Northern Edge of the Riverbank SettlementThe morning unfolded in hues of silt and breath.Kids competed to see who could run faster along the still-wet walkway planks, sending water droplets flying like giggles. A community leader tightened the recently reinstalled tide markers, securing them in solidified mud.Elira was just behind the edge, notebook at her side, observing a girl squat to make something in the dirt. A curl. Followed by two open circles."She's writing ears," the girl's father whispered, appearing next to Elira."Elira," he said after a moment, uncertain."Galen," she said, quietly surprised.They hadn't spoken since his wife's name had been read in the unrecorded list.He pointed to the drawing. "She tells it that the river didn't carry her away. It listened to her."Elira knelt, speaking softly. "That's a better type of story."---8:47 AM — Ferrer Foundation, Clause Drafting RoomThey unrolled the scrolls of the initial weeks—weather-damaged, dirtyed by

6:08 AM — Rooftop Shelter, Outer BalconyMorning light crept up gradually, filtered through cloud-silvered heavens and the murmur of rebuilding still slumbering. Dew clung in drops from string lines where blankets dried overnight.Elira sat cross-legged on a folding chair, draped in a sweater that was too big. She took warm ginger tea from a metal cup, her eyes on the bend of the waking city. A child's voice called quietly behind her, reciting part of yesterday's story again—half recalled, half invented anew. Caelan came over with a paper in his hand. Not official. Just a drawing, drawn by someone in yesterday's group.Two silhouettes against a wall constructed of tales. Behind them, threads."Someone told us that we stood like that," he whispered. "Not how we stand. How we listen."She smiled, running one finger over the sketch. "Then we pass it on."---8:17 AM — Sector D, Mobile Power Grid SetupThe ring of welding echoed through the morning as volunteers from various zones place

5:52 AM — Shoreline Path, Eastern EmbankmentSteam from where the tide had just started to recede again. Plastic bottles bobbed, trapped by the mesh catchers which had been mounted only a few days before. A young adult in boots waded out, unbuckling the clasp of the net.Elira kneeled on the embankment's rim. "You walk this early every day?"The girl smiled, pushing a braid off her shoulder. "Only since we set the trap. I want to know what went through last night."She extracted an old sandal and a fish. Both small, both knotted. "Some things still don't know where to go."Filtration doesn't throw away everything—sometimes it brings back what needs care.7:31 AM — Roof of the Old Broadcasting TowerThe antenna continued to lean toward the west but a rope was tied around its base—prayer flags draped along it, constructed of laminated sheets of school reports and handwritten notebooks.Caelan moved the solar array. The sun in the morning flashed for a moment against a metal screw.Next

5:41 AM — Reservoir Watch Station, Upper HillMist curled off the edge of the water. The station light hummed quietly, supplied by the wind panel along its side. A young man leaned against the railing, tightening the tide gauge set into the cement.Elira offered him a thermos. "Tea."He blinked. "Thank you, Ma'am. I wasn't sure you'd—""I always come before the readings are logged."He stuffed the thermos into his armpit, accepted the slate panel she proffered. "Still syncing by hand?""For now. The doing is important."He nodded, gaze sweeping the levels. "It worked. The reservoir. Even after everything."Elira observed the bow of water against sunrise. "Then so can we."Some buildings stand because someone made them have to.---7:02 AM — Public Kitchen Tent, Rear Prep TableSteam curled in clouds above double vats of lugaw. Volunteers sliced ginger with serene focus, onion peels flying like confetti across the floor.A girl let a ladle slip. It rang out, and for an instant, she sto

5:52 AM — Western Slope Path, Utility Access TrailThe path wound between ground cover and cable casings, edges still wet from last night's fog. Above, rows of fiber-optic and solar conduits piped along like nervous systems—tied across slope, root, and reinforced soil.Caelan knelt beside a exposed junction box, hands buried in the panel. Sparks flashed briefly, then expired.Elira waited nearby, scanning the outage map on her tablet. "Still no flow to Sector L's well system.""Grid realigned during the surge," Caelan grumbled. "Doesn't want to trust its old orientation."Elira gazed down at the cables. "Sometimes trust needs rebuilding, too."Caelan cinched the last bolt. "Then we ground it again."Stability isn't always default—it's recalibrated, over and over, to hold through what comes.------7:28 AM — West Market Sorting AreaTarpaulin covered heaps of donated fruit—ginger, cassava, eggplant. Volunteers crouched beside stickers on crates, sorting by expiry and requirement.A ma