Treatment 324 - Badass in Disguise

bChapter /bb324 /b

When Ethan returned, the boy looked at him guiltily. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t protect your wife.”

“You were very brave,” Ethan assured him as he ced a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder.

I turned to Ethan. “When we’re safe, send someone to get this kid.” The boy deserved better than this life. Ethan nodded.

Laterb, /bduring our meager dinner, the boy crouched against the wall eating bread, watching Ethan tend to me with fascination. His beyes /bdarted between us, curious and observant.

“When did you and your wife get married?” he asked suddenlyb, /bthe question carrying the innocent bluntness only children can manage.

Ethan nced at me before answering, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “We haven’t yet.”

“Is she having a baby?” the boy continued innocently, studying my bedridden state with concern.

Ethan looked at me again, this time meeting my less–than–merciful gaze. “No,” he answered carefully, clearly aware of the dangerous territory he was navigating. fn37f7 Latest content published on find?novel/fn37f7

“When will you get married? When will you have babies? Will your daughter be as beautiful as your wife?” The questions tumbled out with childlike curiosity.

I fixed him with a t stare. “You’re very young to be concerned about marriage and children. Don’t you have other aspirations?”

“Yes,” he answered with disarming honesty. “I want to eat bread every day.”

Ethan asked about the money he’d given him. The boy exined he was hiding it until he was older and stronger, to avoid having it stolen. “I can’t fight them off yet. Andter I want to buy new shoes.”

“Why do you keep looking at me?” I asked directly, my tone making him jump.

The boy blushed, caught in the act. “Because you’re beautiful,” he admitted shyly. “And you speak Amharic very nicely.”

“If you want to look, just look directly,” I told him, finding his honesty oddly refreshing.

His embarrassment deepened, his face flushing dark red. He quickly finished his bread and scurried away, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

I needed water, but before bI /bcould ask, Ethan’s voice cut through the silenceb, /bslightly bitter. “bMiss /bMorgan is quite generous.b” /b

I looked at him. “Jealousb?/bb” /b

“Can I look directly too?b” /b

“Do you want to lose an eye?” I threatened calmly.

He smiled resignedly. “No.”

b10:34 /bFri, Oct 3 M ..

I gave him a pointed look. “Water.”

He immediately brought me water, supporting my head as 1 drank. “Careful,” he murmured, his fingers warm against my scalp, surprisingly gentle.

That evening, the boy returned, pacing nervously between Ethan and my bed. Finally, he approached and ced a chocte on my bedside table, identical to the one he’d been eating earlier.

“I bought this for you,” he said, then coughed several times.

I noticed the cough. “Where have you been sleeping?” I asked, suddenly curious about his living arrangements.

The boy pointed to the right. “In the garbage area. A house copsed many years ago. No one goes there at night. I sleep there so no one sees me.” He exined that although he had his grandfather’s apartment, he avoided sleeping there to prevent neighbors from asking questions.

I didn’t respond directly to the boy. Instead, I spoke to Ethan. “If he doesn’t go home, the neighbors will get suspicious.”

Ethan nodded, understanding my implication. “I’ll make him a bed here tonight.” He began arranging nkets in the corner of the room, creating a makeshift sleeping area.

When the boy knew this, his eyes

widened with concern. “Do I have to give back the money you gave meb?/bb” /b