bChapter /bb325 /b

Author’s POV:

The cramped room felt even smaller with three people in it. Jadey on the rickety bed against the wall, while Ethan upied the other side, and their youngpanion’s makeshift bed was barely a meter away. Ethan shifted ufortably on the edge of the mattress. After all, a boy was a boy, even if malnutrition made the thirteen–year–old look closer to ten.

The boy, however, seemed oblivious to Ethan’s unease. Ile sat cross–legged on his thin nket, eyes bright with excitement despite thete hour, his small body practically vibrating with energy.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked Jade for perhaps the fifth time tonight.

“Better than yesterday,” she replied, which wasn’t saying much.

The boy nodded enthusiastically, then nced between Ethan and Jade with undisguised curiosity. “How old are you?” he asked suddenly.

Jade raised an eyebrow. “Why do you want to know?” fn5ab3 Updates are released by find?novel/fn5ab3

He fidgeted with the hem of his worn t–shirt. “Just curious.”

“I think what you’re really asking is if we’re together,” Jade said bluntly. “And I’m afraid we’re not the right age.”

The boy’s eyes widened, and he shook his head vigorously, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. “No, no! I know that. You have a husband already.” He gestured toward Ethan, then corrected himself. “I mean, not husband yet. Boyfriend.”

Jade felt Ethan tense beside her. The boy continued, undeterred by their silence.

“How old is your boyfriend?” he asked, eyes darting to Ethan, who was pretending to be asleep. “Are you the right ages for each other?”

“I’m six years older than you,” she said, deflecting his question.

“And what about him?” The boy pointed at Ethan. “You and him?”

“You can ask him yourself,” Jade replied.

The boy lowered his voice to a whisper. “Is he sleeping?”

“Who knows?” she shrugged, immediately regretting the movement as pain shot through her shoulder.

“He seems like he’s asleep,” the boy continued, studying Ethan. “He looks very young.”

“Thirty–one minus neen,” Jade said. “You can do the math.”

The boy was quiet for a moment, lips moving as he calcted. “Twelve years,” he announced proudly. “That’s not much. Many men here, sixty years old, marry girls fifteen, sixteen. Your boyfriend is very youngpared to that.”

Jade arched an eyebrow, her expression animated despite her exhaustion. “Compared to sixty–year–olds, sure, he’s young.” She turned to look at Ethan, and even through the darkness, she could sense his displeasure at being the subject of this conversation.

10:34 Fri, bOct /b3 M…

The boy finally yawned, his endless energy apparently reaching its limit. Within minutes, his breathing deepened into sleep, leaving Ethan and Jade in silence.

“It’s thirty and neen,” Ethan whispered, his voice barely audible. “We’re eleven years apart.”

“Almost there,” Jade murmured back.

“You’re almost twenty too.”

She gave him a look that was half–smile, half–warning. “Mr. Haxton is really going to have trouble sleeping tonight, isn’t he?”

“I’ll sleep just fine,‘ he replied, a hint of satisfaction in his tone.

Jade could see the contentment in his eyes even in the dim light. “What’s got you so pleased with yourself?b” /b

“You never once denied our rtionship to him,” Ethan said, his voice softening further. “Not onceb./b”

Jade took a shallow breath, her ribs protesting. “Consider yourself lucky I can’t move much right now, or I’d kick you right off this bed.”

“You can save that for when you’re better,” he replied, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Dream on.” Did he really think he’d be sharing her bed in the future?

Two days passed, and the boy’s cough had noticeably improved thanks to the medication from their medical kit that Ethan had Sloane bring. He strutted around the room with newfound energy, showing off a pair of sneakers he’d found in the garbage heap.

“Look!” he eximed, standing straight beside Jade’s bed. The shoes were at least two sizes too big for his small feet, but he beamed with pride. “These are the best shoes I’ve ever found.”

Jade noticed the sole of one shoe was partially detached, and both were stained with substances she preferred not to identify. But the boy treated them like treasures.

That night, a group of children called for the boy from outside. His face lit up at the sound of their voices, but he hesitated, looking back at Jade.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised, already halfway to the door. “I’ll bring you chocte!”

As soon as he left, Ethan sighed with relief. “Finally. Some peace and quiet.”

Jade watched him move around the room, tidying up the meager space. His hair was getting too long, falling into his eyes as he bent to pick up the boy’s discarded nket. Despite everything, he still managed to look like he belonged on a magazine cover rather than in this slum.

The boy spent the entire day with his friends, rummaging through garbage heaps for treasures. As dusk settled over the slum, he parted ways with hispanions and ran straight to a small market stall to buy chocte for Jade.

b10:34 /bFrib, /bOct 3 M

With night falling rapidly around him, he clutched the chocte bars to his chest, hidden under his shirt. His oversized shoes dangled from one hand as he ran barefoot through the winding alleys, eager to get back before it got toote.

The thought of giving Jade the chocte made him smile despite his exhaustion. He ran faster, his small feet pping against the dirt paths.

Without warning, he collided with something solid. The impact sent him stumbling backward several steps before he fell hard on his backside. The chocte bars tumbled to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled automatically, scrambling to collect the fallen treats and dust them off. Only then did he look up at what–or who -he had hit.

A man dressed entirely in ck stood before him, his face partially obscured by the shadows. Unlike the locals, this man was clearly American, his stance rigid and alert.

The boy clutched his recovered chocte bars tightly and backed away.

The slum was enveloped in night. Despite the dense poption, few lights illuminated the haphazard pathways. Most residents retired early, their doors firmly shut against the dangers darkness brought.

The boy navigated the broken, twisting paths littered with garbage. ck sewage channels released their foul stench into the air. He held his precious chocte bars in his meticulously washed hands, gripping them tightly.

Suddenly, one of his shoes fell. He paused to retrieve it, extending his foot backward to hook it. As he did so, he cast a fearful nce behind him.

The man in ck was following him, barely visible in the shadows. The boy’s heart raced when he caught sight of something metallic in the man’s hand.

Terrified, he clutched his chocte even tighter and continued walking. The footsteps behind him matched his paceb, /bsteady and deliberate.

The man’s shadow loomed over the boy,pletely engulfing his small frame in darkness. Around them, silence reigned, broken asionally by voices from inside the scattered homes they passed.

But the boy encountered no one on his path. The man followed him as he turned right, heading deeper into the maze of the slum…

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