The evening sun cast its last golden rays over the small, worn-down apartment complex where Ashley lived. By the time she reached home, exhaustion clung to her like a heavy blanket. As she pushed open the creaky door, the familiar smell of their cramped living room greeted her—a mixture of her mother's cooking, the musky scent of old furniture, and the lingering traces of detergent from freshly washed clothes drying in a corner. The familiar smells brought a pang of comfort, even if they were the scents of struggle.
"Ash, you're back!" her younger brother, Alex, called out from the sagging couch, his eyes glued to the flickering TV screen. He was sprawled there, his school uniform long discarded in a messy pile on the floor. Unlike Ashley, Alex attended a government school, one of the few they could afford, and it hadn't resumed yet, giving him more time at home.
Ashley managed a tired smile. "Yeah, I'm back." She dropped her worn-out bag on the floor with a thud, its frayed straps slipping from her sore shoulders. Her eyes scanned the small kitchen, hoping to find something her mom might have saved for her before rushing off to her evening shift.
"So... how was that fancy party last night?" Alex asked, his tone light but with a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. He was always eager to hear about the glimpses of the world beyond their tiny apartment—an escape he longed for but was rarely granted.
Ashley sighed, kicking off her shoes. "It was... fine," she muttered, heading toward the kitchen with heavy steps. She prayed silently that her mom had kept her promise to save her a bit of dinner. Her stomach growled, protesting the skipped meals she had endured throughout the day.
Alex, however, wasn't one to let things slide. He leaned forward, eyes sparkling with intrigue. "Oh, come on. I heard the rumors, Ash. Word gets around, you know."
Ashley stiffened, her back to him as she opened the fridge. Inside was a small bowl of stew, the portion pitifully small but enough to stave off her hunger. Her shoulders tensed at Alex's words. Of course, news would spread fast. She should have known better. "It was nothing," she said softly, trying to keep her tone neutral.
As the microwave hummed, filling the small kitchen with warmth, Alex's voice grew sharper. "Were you paid for all that humiliation?" His question cut through the room, hanging in the air like a challenge.
Ashley's fingers tightened around the edge of the counter, her knuckles turning white. "Not yet..." The confession slipped out, betraying the frustration she had tried so hard to bury.
"What?" Alex's voice rose in disbelief. He jumped off the couch, his youthful face twisted with anger. "You're telling me Derek didn't pay you? After everything you went through?"
"I... I know," she said, her voice breaking slightly as she turned to face him. "But someone else covered it."
Alex's expression shifted to one of confusion, then realization. "You mean that guy who dropped you off last night?" he asked, his voice softer but no less intense.
Ashley's eyes widened. "How did you...?" But Alex cut her off with a triumphant grin.
"I saw you," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I couldn't sleep, so I looked out the window. That fancy car of his? It's hard to miss." His grin faded into a look of concern. "Sis, you can't just let people walk all over you. You have to stand up for yourself."
A soft beep from the microwave interrupted their conversation. Ashley quickly turned away, retrieving the reheated food and pouring herself a glass of water. She couldn't afford to dwell on Alex's words, not when she was so tired. "It's complicated, Alex. You wouldn't understand," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "What do you think Fred would say if he knew about it?"
Alex's brows knitted together, his eyes narrowing. "Fred? Did he even speak to you today?"
Ashley shook her head, her gaze fixed on the chipped kitchen counter. "No... he didn't," she admitted, her voice tinged with a sadness she couldn't quite hide.
"Then maybe he doesn't care as much as you think," Alex shot back, turning up the TV's volume a clear signal that he was done with the conversation.
The weight of his words settled heavily on her heart. Balancing her plate and glass, Ashley retreated to her tiny bedroom, closing the door behind her. She leaned against it for a moment, eyes closed, trying to shut out the world. What am I doing? she wondered, the storm of doubts and insecurities swirling in her mind. Fred's sudden kindness, Emily's relentless torment, Derek's unpaid debt it all felt like a relentless tide threatening to pull her under.
****
Meanwhile, across town, the Redman estate was bathed in the soft glow of twilight. The mansion stood like a fortress, its towering walls hiding secrets behind pristine, polished exteriors. Inside, the grand chandelier in the foyer sparkled like a constellation, casting a glow that seemed almost too perfect, too cold.
Fred walked through the opulent halls, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the marble floors. He felt a strange sense of emptiness, as if all the luxuries surrounding him were mere illusions of comfort.
"Welcome home, Fred," his mother greeted him from the doorway of the sitting room. Her voice was warm, but her eyes held the usual undercurrent of formality, a reminder that even family ties came with conditions.
"Good evening, Mom," Fred replied, forcing a smile. But before he could ask about her day, she dropped a bombshell that halted him in his tracks.
"Your brother is home," she announced, her eyes lighting up with a rare spark of joy.
Fred's exhaustion vanished, replaced by a rush of excitement. "George? Where is he?"
"He's in his room," she said, her smile growing softer as she watched Fred dash up the grand staircase. George was the golden child the family's pride, the one who had taken the reins of their father's business empire with a finesse that Fred could never match.
Fred pushed open his brother's door, only to be met with the tense silhouette of George standing by the window, speaking into his phone in a low, urgent tone. The air in the room was thick with something unspoken danger, perhaps, or a secret Fred was not meant to overhear.
"Yeah... I'll take care of it," George said, his voice clipped and terse. "Just make sure the shipment isn't delayed. Any more setbacks, and we'll be in deep trouble."
Fred's stomach twisted. This was more than just the usual business talk. George turned around, his expression shifting instantly into a bright smile, though his eyes were still shadowed with whatever burden he carried. "Hey, little bro," he greeted, pulling Fred into a tight hug. "How's school?"
Fred forced a laugh, trying to brush away his unease. "It's been... emotional," he said, leaning against the windowsill beside George.
George's eyes sparkled with interest. "And what's this I hear about a girl who's got you all twisted up?" he teased.
Fred's smile faded as he explained his feelings for Ashley the shy, resilient girl who had been occupying his thoughts for years. He recounted last night's events, how he had finally stepped in to defend her against Emily's cruel antics.
"So, did you talk to her today?" George asked, his tone serious.
"No," Fred admitted, a note of hesitation in his voice. "I didn't want to draw more attention to her. Emily's jealousy... it's already too much for her."
George clapped him on the shoulder. "You can't win someone over by staying silent, Fred. If you really care about her, you need to show it. Otherwise, you'll just end up giving her the wrong impression."
Fred nodded, taking his brother's words to heart. As he left George's room, the decision solidified in his mind. Tomorrow, he would speak to Ashley, no matter the risks.
Fred lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying every moment he had shared with Ashley. He couldn't let fear hold him back anymore. Tomorrow would be different.