Chapter 1

This is Ayslan.

This is Alvaro.

The rattle of the old ceiling fan was the only sound in that small house — until a low, half-smothered moan cut through the silence.

Ayslan's eyes snapped open. For a second, she couldn't remember where she was. The sky outside the window was still dark, and the room felt colder than it should have.

She sat up fast, bare feet hitting the icy floor, and crossed to the other side of the room where her grandmother slept.

Or tried to.

Daniela lay on her side, face turned toward the wall. The sheet draped over her thin body, but it couldn't hide the trembling.

Ayslan knelt beside the bed and touched her grandmother's shoulder.

"Grandma...?"

Daniela drew a long breath, as if every inhale took courage.

"Ayslan..." Her voice came out weak. "You weren't supposed to wake up."

Ayslan squeezed her hand, gentle on the outside, but the familiar dread was already settling in the way it did every morning.

"I woke up because I heard you. Is it really bad?"

Daniela turned her face slowly. Her eyes were wet — impossible to tell if from pain or shame. There'd been a time when this woman had seemed indestructible. Now the strength only showed in her gaze. The rest of her body had betrayed her.

"A little..." she lied.

Ayslan knew that "a little." Her grandmother's "a little" was the kind of pain that made her hand shake when she tried to hold a glass. The kind that left her gasping just from standing up. The kind that stole her sleep and her dignity, piece by piece.

"I'll get your medicine." Ayslan was on her feet immediately.

The kitchen and bedroom practically touched. The house was so small that every sound echoed as though an entire life fit inside two rooms.

On the table: a crumpled pharmacy bag and a few boxes of pills. Next to them, prescriptions in illegible handwriting and a sheet of paper with numbers scrawled across it.

Ayslan filled a glass with water and sorted the pills, trying not to look at the papers.

But it was impossible to ignore.

Appointments... tests... medication... physical therapy...

Someone had totaled the figures at the bottom of the page, and below that, another number: the money she had.

The gap between the two looked like a sentence.

She brought the glass and pills back to the bedroom. Daniela tried to prop herself up to sit, but couldn't manage it. Ayslan tucked an extra pillow behind her back and helped her carefully.

"Swallow slowly, okay?"

Daniela obeyed, then sat for a few seconds with her eyes closed, as if even that simple act were a defeat.

"Sweetheart..." she whispered. "You don't have to—"

Ayslan cut her off before she could finish. She already knew what was coming: guilt, sadness, that instinct to protect — even from a place of fragility.

"Yes, I do. I need you here with me."

Daniela opened her eyes and studied her granddaughter's face, as though trying to memorize every detail.

"I'm afraid of trapping you in my illness, Ayslan."

Ayslan took a deep breath. For an instant her expression hardened — not with anger, but with resolve.

"I'm not trapped. I chose this. You raised me alone. You gave me everything you could, even when you had nothing. Now it's my turn."

Daniela closed her eyes again. A single tear slid down in silence, and Ayslan pretended not to see it, so she wouldn't make her cry harder.

During the day, Ayslan split herself between caregiving and survival. She cooked, did laundry, kept the house together as best she could, and still tried to pick up whatever small jobs came along — sewing, quick cleaning gigs, anything.

But nothing lasted, nothing paid enough, nothing came close to what they needed.

That morning, while Daniela dozed, Ayslan grabbed her phone and scrolled through old messages. Her thumb stopped on Camila's name.

Camila was the only friend Ayslan had. Not because she didn't like people, but because life never gave her room for get-togethers, laughter, or secrets shared over coffee. Camila had shown up at one of Ayslan's odd jobs and, since then, had insisted on sticking around.

Ayslan stared at the screen for a few seconds, hesitating. Then she typed:

Good morning. My grandma got worse last night.

The reply came fast, as if Camila had been waiting.

Oh no, girl... Want me to come over?

Ayslan glanced at Daniela sleeping and answered:

You don't have to. I'm just trying to figure something out.

On the other end, Camila typed and deleted, typed and deleted. Ayslan could picture her expression: worried but determined.

Ayslan... remember what I told you about?

Ayslan felt her stomach clench before she even read the rest.

The club?

Yes. The club.

Ayslan set the phone on the table, breathing, as if the word "club" carried physical weight.

Camila had brought it up twice in the past two weeks. A luxury venue, frequented by rich men, where the waitresses earned well — very well — in a single night. Camila had gotten the job through a referral.

You won't have to do anything besides serve drinks and be polite. But you have to be able to handle the way they look at you. Some of these guys think money buys everything just because they're in a place like that.

Ayslan hated to admit it, but she'd thought about this. Many times. Every time she saw the bills. Every time she heard her grandmother moan in pain.

Are they still hiring? she typed, and her heart raced as though she were already committing a sin.

Camila answered almost instantly:

They are. And I can put in a word for you. But Ayslan... it's intense. It's not just any environment.

Ayslan bit her lip.

I can handle it.

A few seconds passed before the next message, and when it came, it read more like a hug than a warning.

I know you can. But promise me one thing: if anyone crosses the line, you come to me. I'll keep an eye out. And don't accept drinks or private conversations with clients.

Ayslan closed her eyes for a moment. The word "clients" felt foreign to the world she knew.

I promise.

Camila sent the address and the time. At the end, she added:

Get there a little early. I'll meet you at the door.

Ayslan sat staring at the message as though it might change on its own.

But it didn't.

This was reality.

Daniela needed treatment, and Ayslan needed money — fast.

Late in the afternoon, Daniela woke up feeling slightly better. Ayslan made a light broth and fed it to her carefully, spoonful by spoonful. Then she organized the evening pills, set water within reach of the bed, and made sure the phone was charged.

When Daniela noticed her granddaughter fixing her hair, painting her nails, taking more care than someone who planned to stay home—

"Going out?"

Ayslan hesitated. Lying would've been easier. But Daniela knew her too well to accept a lie.

"I'm going to work, Grandma." Ayslan kept her voice low. "A job... that pays better."

Daniela took a long time to respond. The silence hung heavy, full of things unsaid.

"What kind of job?"

Ayslan clenched her hands.

"Waitressing... at a fancy place."

Daniela understood more than Ayslan wanted to say. Her eyes filled with worry, and Ayslan felt a wave of guilt, as if she were doing something wrong just by trying to save them both.

"You don't need to humiliate yourself for my sake..."

"It's not humiliation." Ayslan's voice was firm, though it cracked a little. "It's work. And I'll be home early."

Daniela breathed deep, her pride trying to beat back the fear.

"What if something happens?"

Ayslan moved closer to the bed and kissed her grandmother's forehead.

"Nothing's going to happen. I'll be with Camila. She'll stay with me."

Daniela gripped her granddaughter's hand, squeezing with what little strength she had.

"You're everything I have, Ayslan."

Ayslan swallowed the lump in her throat.

"And you're everything I have too."

She left the bedroom and went to the small bathroom. A quick shower, hair pulled back, a simple outfit. Not the club uniform yet — she'd change into that there. But it was enough to get her through the door.

When she looked in the mirror, she saw something she hadn't seen in a long time: a young woman, beautiful, yes — but with eyes far too tired for her age.

On her way out, she ducked back into the bedroom one last time. Daniela had already closed her eyes, trying to rest.

"Grandma... I'll be right back."

And outside, the night stretched wider than the world.

***This work has been signed with NovelToon, and piracy such as reprinting without permission is strictly prohibited.***

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***