The school bell rang, signalling the end of another day, and Evie stood at the gates, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her worn-out jacket. The autumn air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of fallen leaves and the distant hum of city traffic. She scanned the crowd of students pouring out of the building, her heart lifting when she spotted Lily's familiar figure weaving through the crowd.
"Evie!" Lily called, her face lighting up as she ran over, her violin case bouncing against her back. "You didn't have to come pick me up, you know. I'm not a kid anymore."
Evie smiled, ruffling her sister's hair. "You'll always be my kid sister, no matter how tall you get."
Lily rolled her eyes but grinned, linking her arm through Evie's as they started walking home. "So, how was work? Did you draw anything cool today?"
Evie hesitated, her mind flashing to the sketchpad tucked under the counter at the café. She had managed to sneak in a few minutes during her break, working on a portrait of Lily playing her violin. But the drawing was far from finished, and she wasn't sure if it would ever see the light of day.
"Just some doodles," Evie said, shrugging. "Nothing special."
Lily frowned, her sharp eyes catching the weariness in Evie's voice. "You're still drawing, though, right? You can't give up on your art, Evie. Dad wouldn't want that."
Evie's chest tightened at the mention of their father. Daniel Lane had been her biggest supporter, the one who had encouraged her to pursue her passion for art. But that was before everything fell apart—before the scandal, the debt, and the illness that had left their family shattered.
"I'm not giving up," Evie said, forcing a smile. "I just… have other priorities right now."
Lily didn't look convinced, but she didn't push. Instead, she changed the subject, chattering about her day at school and the new piece she was learning on the violin. Evie listened, her heart swelling with pride even as a pang of guilt twisted in her stomach. Lily was so talented, so full of dreams, and Evie would do anything to make sure those dreams came true.
But as they turned the corner onto their street, Evie's steps slowed. The sight of their apartment building—a crumbling structure with peeling paint and a flickering streetlight—was a stark reminder of how far they had fallen. She could still remember the house they used to live in, with its sunlit studio and the garden where her father used to paint. That life felt like a distant dream now.
"Evie," Lily said, her voice hesitant as they climbed the stairs to their apartment. "About the tuition fees… I know they're due soon. I can talk to my teacher, see if there's a way to get an extension or something."
Evie shook her head, her resolve hardening. "Don't worry about it, Lily. I'll figure it out."
"But how?" Lily asked, her voice rising. "You're already working two jobs, and Mom's medical bills—"
"I said I'll figure it out," Evie interrupted, sharper than she intended. She immediately regretted it when she saw the hurt flash in Lily's eyes.
"I'm not a kid, Evie," Lily said quietly. "I know how bad things are. You don't have to pretend everything's okay."
Evie's throat tightened, and she pulled Lily into a hug, holding her tightly. "I'm sorry, Lily. I just… I don't want you to worry, okay? You focus on your music, and let me take care of the rest."
Lily nodded, but the worry in her eyes didn't fade. Evie knew her sister was too smart to be fooled, but she couldn't bring herself to admit the truth—that she had no idea how they were going to make it through the next month, let alone pay for Lily's tuition.
As they stepped into the apartment, the familiar scent of home—warm bread, faint traces of paint, and the ever-present hint of medicine—washed over Evie. Margaret was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in her hands and a book open in front of her. She looked up as they entered, her face lighting up with a smile.
"There you are," Margaret said, her voice warm. "How was school, Lily?"
"Good," Lily said, setting her violin case down and pulling out a chair. "I aced my math test, and Mr. Thompson said I'm ready to perform at the winter concert."
"That's wonderful," Margaret said, her eyes shining with pride. She turned to Evie, her gaze softening. "And how was work, sweetheart?"
"Fine," Evie said, forcing a smile. "Just the usual."
Margaret studied her for a moment, her sharp eyes missing nothing. "You're working too hard, Evie. You need to take care of yourself too."
"I'm fine, Mom," Evie said, brushing off the concern. "Really."
Margaret didn't look convinced, but she didn't press. Instead, she reached out and took Evie's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You're just like your father, you know. Always putting everyone else first."
Evie's throat tightened, and she looked away, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. She didn't feel like her father—not even close. Daniel Lane had been a man of integrity and strength, someone who had always known the right thing to do. Evie, on the other hand, felt like she was barely holding it together.
As the evening wore on, Evie found herself retreating to her room, her sketchpad in hand. She flipped to a blank page, her fingers trembling as she began to draw. The lines came quickly, almost desperately, as if she could pour all her fears and frustrations onto the paper. By the time she was done, she had a rough sketch of her father's hands, holding a paintbrush with the same steady confidence she remembered.
But as she stared at the drawing, a wave of sadness washed over her. She missed him—missed his guidance, his laughter, his unwavering belief in her. And she couldn't help but wonder if he would be disappointed in her now, if he would think she had given up on her dreams.
"I'm trying, Dad," Evie whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm trying so hard."
But as the tears spilled down her cheeks, she couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.