Loyalty and Lies

Bills to pay

Lea's pov:

I hate summer. It's always hot, and if you forget to put some oil on, you'll immediately get sunburned. The damn insects come out of their hiding places and make your life hell, and no matter how much deodorant you use, you sweat all the time. There's not a single thing nice about summer. Especially when you have to carry two heavy shopping bags all the way home in the heat. If I'd bought ice cream, it would have melted long ago. Fortunately, I was smart enough not to buy any.

The sun hung high in the sky as I trudged down the sidewalk, the weight of the bags digging into my hands. Sweat clung to my skin, making the fabric of my shirt feel like it was glued to my body. I'd made the mistake of going shopping during the hottest part of the day, and now I was paying the price. I was desperate for the cool air of home, and just the thought of the air-conditioned apartment made my steps quicker.

When I finally reached the front door, I was more than ready to drop the bags and collapse onto the couch.

"I'm home!" I announced as I entered, though I could barely summon the energy to make my voice sound enthusiastic.

I closed the door with a loud bang and set the heavy shopping bags down on the floor with a sigh of relief. As much as I hated the heat, the exhaustion from carrying those bags made it feel like a victory just to be home. I kicked off my shoes and made a beeline for the kitchen, where the familiar sounds of my best friend Addison's voice reached my ears.

"Thank God, you're back! I thought you got kidnapped or something," Addison said, her voice laced with mock concern as she passed by me, rushing to get something done. It wasn't like she was genuinely worried; Addison always acted like this when she had a lot on her plate. "Mira's already had dinner, and don't worry, I made her go to bed at seven. Oh, and by the way, don't wait up for me tonight—I'm doing an extra shift."

Mirabelle, Addison's five-year-old daughter, was the light of our lives, though it didn't always feel like it when she was up late or crying. Addison and I shared a four-room apartment with a small kitchen, one living room, one bathroom, and three bedrooms. It wasn't much, but it was enough for the three of us. We had to make it work. And we did.

Addison worked long hours at a bar downtown, and I waitressed during the day. It was hard—living paycheck to paycheck, with barely enough time to do anything other than work and take care of Mira. But we got by. For now.

"An extra shift? Why now?" I asked, trying to wrap my mind around why she would agree to work more hours. She hadn't taken any extra shifts since she started this new job, which was supposed to be better than the last one. She'd left the old place behind because it was too exhausting to juggle work and motherhood, but now, she was back at it.

"I'll be home before Mira wakes up," she said quickly, tying her shoes. "I just got a letter today. The landlords want to raise the rent again. I'll explain more tomorrow. I'm late, though, so I gotta go."

Before I could say another word, Addison yanked open the door, stepped through, and slammed it shut behind her, leaving me standing there alone.

For a few moments, I stood frozen, staring at the door as the reality of her words sank in. The landlords were raising the rent again. This apartment wasn't even that great, and yet the cost was always climbing. I felt the familiar frustration build in my chest. We were already struggling to make ends meet. How could they expect us to afford even more?

"Those assholes!!" The insult slipped out before I could even think about it.

"Mira?" came the small voice behind me.

I turned to see the little girl standing there, looking up at me with wide, innocent eyes, her hands gripping the doorway as if she were unsure whether to approach me. There was no mistaking it—she was Addison's daughter, her exact image, right down to the soft waves of brunette hair and the hazel-green eyes that could melt anyone's heart.