Chapter 415

She rented a place along the fourth ring road of the capital-a modest house in a run-down neighborhood, sharing it with Emma George and Elizabeth Wilson. The house was neither small nor spacious, its walls patched and peeling with age. Less than six feet separated it from the surrounding buildings, which were crammed close together. The neighborhood buzzed with life, mostly filled with young professionals and laborers from out of town. People mostly kept to themselves, so despite the crowded quarters, things stayed relatively quiet, broken only by the occasional wailing child or a neighborly shouting match.
The house had three bedrooms and a living room, just under a thousand square feet, simply furnished but with all the necessary appliances. Rent was about the same as what she’d paid back in her old city, so Emily Blair found it manageable.
Elizabeth Wilson, however, didn’t stay there often; she was busy looking after her grandmother at the hospital.
Emily covered the rent herself, despite Elizabeth’s protests. Elizabeth had insisted on paying her share, but Emily wouldn’t hear of it. Eventually, Elizabeth relented, promising to pay her back later.
Emily had only nodded-she could tell Elizabeth would move out on the spot if she refused her request.
When Emily got home that day, Emma George hadn’t returned yet.
She didn’t think much of it. Slinging her backpack off her shoulder, she headed straight to her room. The material Xavier Gonzalez had taught them that day wasn’t too difficult, so after a quick review, she pulled out her high school prep book and set to work.
Even though she’d already mastered this year’s entrance exam topics, the way things had changed since her “second chance” left her uneasy. What if the exam questions changed too? She needed to be prepared for anything.
After finishing her planned practice tests for the day, Emma was still nowhere to be seen. Emily pulled out her phone and sent her a quick text.
Where are you? Will you be home for dinner? I’m thinking of ordering in.
Emma replied almost instantly: On my way back! Don’t order takeout—I bought groceries. Can you start the rice?
Sure, Emily typed back.
She slipped on her slippers and padded into the kitchen.
They hadn’t lived there long, and Emily still wasn’t used to where everything was. She spent a few minutes hunting for the rice canister, unsure where Emma had stashed it.
Finally, she found it, scooped out some rice, and as she straightened up, her eyes landed on the narrow, dim alleyway below.
The kitchen window faced the alley, and since their apartment was on the second floor, Emily could look across at the neighbors or glance down to see whoever was passing by.
It was late by now-the sky outside pitch black. The kids who played noisily in the streets during the day had long since gone home, replaced by the drifting aroma of dinners being cooked in the surrounding apartments.
The alley’s old streetlamp glowed a dull, yellowish light. With the alley boxed in by aging buildings on all sides, barely any natural light slipped through, leaving the whole place in a perpetual dusk.
Emily washed the rice, glancing down at the alley as she worked. Down below, she spotted Emma standing in front of the building’s entrance, groceries dangling from one hand while she rummaged through her crossbody bag for the keys.
When Emma still hadn’t found her keys after a long minute, Emily hurried to finish washing the rice, set the cooker, wiped her hands, and headed downstairs to let her in.
As Emily opened the door, she found Emma staring at her phone, looking surprisingly serious.
Startled by the sound, Emma jerked her head up. She looked tense, gripping her phone tightly and holding it upright—so upright, Emily could no longer see anything on the glowing screen.
Emily arched an eyebrow. “Mom, what are you looking at? You look so nervous.”
Emma shot her a quick glare, pocketing her phone as she walked inside. “It’s so dark down here—if someone suddenly appeared in front of you, wouldn’t you be scared?”
Emily nodded in agreement. “Fair point.”
“But,” she continued, following Emma inside and swinging the door shut behind them, “you didn’t look scared, Mom. You looked nervous.”