The night was getting older, but each second felt like she was reliving a memory. After so long, she finally had a chance to talk—to explain everything that happened after her husband died.
Helen sat on the sofa, half-sunken into the cushions, her fingers curled around the glass of juice in her lap. Her grip tightened, then loosened. Her throat felt tight. Words threatened to spill over, but she didn't know where to start.
"When Philip died," she exhaled sharply, "the hospital—I worked there for years, but they started issuing layoffs. I—I was one of the first to go."
Dawn reached for her, it was a gentle feel as if to offer a lifeline in the sea of emotions Helen was drowning in. Helen barely noticed, lost in the whirlwind of her thoughts, the weight of everything she had just revealed pressing down on her.
She felt the soft squeeze of Dawn's hand and blinked, but the tears that had threatened to escape earlier began to pool in her eyes again
"Julia and—" Helen swallowed hard. The words lodged in her throat like splinters. She forced herself to meet her sister's eyes, but the lump in her chest made her voice break.
"I know," Dawn whispered. She pulled Helen into a hug, and just like that, the tears came. No holding back this time. Helen clutched at her sister's sleeve, her shoulders trembling.
"I-I… I can't believe they just—threw me out like that." Her breath hitched. "Like I was nothing."
Julia had been Philip's sister, Matthew's aunt, the most successful of them all. And when Philip was gone, the family—their family—sided with her. One thing led to another, and suddenly, Helen was stripped of everything. The house, the accounts, the security—gone. All except Matthew.
"I was lucky," she rasped, pulling back from the hug, wiping her face roughly. "They didn't take him. He's all I have left of Philip. If they had—" Her breath stuttered. "Oh god… I don't even know what I'd do."
Her chest rose and fell unevenly. The words kept tumbling out, the weight of them suffocating.
"We have nowhere to stay… I have no job, I don't know how long I could stretch my savings—Matthew's about to start college, and I—" Her voice cracked.
Dawn inhaled sharply, fanning away her own tears. "It's fine," she choked out, forcing a smile through the heartbreak. "You're here now. That's all that matters." She sniffled, then laughed weakly. "Haa… I just missed you so much."
Helen pressed her lips together, her face crumpling.
"You and Matthew will be alright," Dawn assured her. "We'll figure this out. Together."
In the warm, well-lit kitchen, Amor stood quietly by the countertop, peeling vegetables, her brow furrowed with concern. She glanced over at her father, Nando, who was stirring a pot of simmering soup on the stove. The smell of garlic and onions filled the air, but it did little to lighten the heavy atmosphere that had settled between them.
"Dad…" Amor began, her voice soft but laden with the weight of her thoughts, "I feel so sorry for Tita."
She sighed heavily and looked up at Nando, who was leaning against the counter, his face etched with weariness.
"How did Tita end up like this?" she asked, her voice soft mixed with concern. "She was always talking about her savings—for when she visits. And she promised us so much… all those gifts she kept talking about."
Nando's gaze flickered toward the window, his lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't respond immediately, as if the weight of her question was more than just a simple inquiry.
"Dad?" Amor prompted again.
He sighed deeply, his hand running through his thinning hair. "I wish I could tell you, Amor. But I'm not in a position to speak on their behalf," Nando replied, his voice low. "I'm sure she'd rather keep the issue in private."
There was a long pause between them, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator and the clinking of the knife as Amor continued chopping vegetables. She chewed on her lower lip, her mind working furiously, trying to come up with something that might ease the situation.
Then, almost as if struck by a sudden idea, Amor's face lit up. "What if Helen and Matthew stayed here for a while?" she blurted out. "Just until they get back on their feet. I mean, they've got nowhere else to go, and we're the closest ones to them. It makes sense, doesn't it?"
"Amor—"
Before Nando could add, Amor was already out the door, rushing down the hallway toward the living room.
"Mom—wait, Tita," Amor called out breathlessly as she entered the room, her face flushed with the excitement of her new idea. "I have an idea!"
Dawn looked up at her daughter, raising an eyebrow as she set down the book she had been reading. "What is it, Amor?" she asked, her voice faintly shaky but curious.
"How about… how about Helen and Matthew stay with us for a while?" Amor suggested eagerly. "Just until they get back on their feet. It would give them a chance to catch their breath!"
Helen and Dawn were surprised, then Dawn sighed her eyes flickered with doubt. "It's not that I don't want them here, Amor. But do you think they'd be comfortable?"
Amor's expression softened, her heart aching at the thought of her aunt and cousin struggling. "Mom, I know. But they don't have anywhere else to go! And we're closest to them. I just… I don't want them to be out there alone, struggling."
Dawn sighed, glancing at Helen, who had been silently listening from the couch. "I know you mean well, Amor. But we have to think about what's best for them too."
Helen, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke. "I don't want to be a burden, and Matthew—"
"No!" Amor interjected, her voice firm. "You're not a burden. Please, let us help. This is the least we can do, right, Mom?"
Dawn looked at her daughter, then at her sister, a heavy silence hanging between them. After a long moment, she exhaled deeply, "I'd have to talk with your father first,"
Dawn walked to the kitchen, seeing Nando, she leaned against the counter, watching him stir the soup, his hands moving absentmindedly. She took a deep breath, and the smell of the dish immediately soothed her nerves that had been tense all evening—it was a spell her husband always knew would calm her down.
"I think we should let them stay here," she said quietly, her voice steady but laden with a quiet resolve.
Nando paused, glancing up at her. "You're sure?"
She nodded, her eyes softening. "It's the right thing to do. We have the space, and they're family." She folded her arms, trying to push back the emotions that had been building all evening. "Helen's always been there for me, even when it meant getting into trouble."
Nando raised an eyebrow. "Trouble, huh?"
She sat down, and leaned in her chair, her fingers running circling over the counter, smiling, remembering their haydays. "You know, Helen used to help me a lot when we were kids. Even when it got her into trouble," Dawn added. "When we were younger, I'd get into all sorts of mischief, and she'd always cover for me—whether it was sneaking me out of trouble at school or covering me from Mom's anger. She'd take the blame, just to keep me safe."
A small, nostalgic smile crossed Nando's lips, and he set the spoon down in the pot. "She sounds like quite the sister."
"She is," Dawn agreed softly. Her eyes welled up for a brief moment, but she blinked it away. "She was always the strong one. And now, I want to do the same for her." She straightened up and looked at Nando, her voice steady despite the swelling emotions. "I just want to help her and make her feel welcome. And if she's comfortable with it, I want her and Matthew to stay as long as they need."
Nando reached out, brushing a lock of hair from Dawn's face with gently that sent a quiet shiver through her. "I'm sure they'll be fine. As long as Helen agrees, it'll work out..."
Dawn smiled softly, feeling the warmth of his words settle in her chest. Nando gave her a wink, his expression playful yet sincere. "You're the one who's always held us together. If anyone can make them feel at home, it's you."
Dawn shook her head with a soft chuckle, the heaviness lifting slightly. "You're hopeless," she teased, her tone light, but her eyes betraying the depth of her gratitude.
"I'll go talk to them."