Elena’s POVE
One bedroom was listed for an astronomical $4500-$5000 per month! And even the cramped studio apartments were going <b>for </b>a minimum of $1500. My eyes scanned the screen. A wave of disbelief washed over me.
That’s utterly ridiculous. It was more than half of the generous internship sry i’d been so thrilled about. At this rate, I’d be working just to keep a roof over my head, with barely enough for food, transportation, or any unexpected expenses.
And what about Mom? Even though Aunt Rose would be staying with her, I still wanted to be able to contribute financially, to ease her burdens in any way I could. This rent situation <b>was </b>a major blow.
I mmed myptop shut with a decisive thud, the sudden silence in the room amplifying the frantic thoughts racing through my mind. Pushing the offending device to the side of the bed, I sighed heavily and reached for my phone.
A restless energy began to simmer beneath my skin. I knew <b>I </b>should <b>probably </b>go downstairs and properly greet Mom. The polite thing to do would be to join them, offer to help with dinner, and try to smooth over the lingering tension from our earlier conversation.
But no, Not this time. A stubborn resolve had taken root within me. I needed to stand my ground, to show Mom that I was serious about my decisions and wouldn’t be easily swayed.
I’d only just sent the reply epting the internship, Now, I needed to demonstrate that I had a proper n, <b>a </b>viable strategy for making this whole thing. work, despite the challenges.
My thumb scrolled aimlessly through Facebook, my gaze flicking over countless posts, advertisements, and updates from friends and acquaintances. Then, I paused, my eyes catching on a particr post in a local Velhaven group about shared living space avable. It wasn’t in Maxcester City, but the concept sparked an idea in my mind.
Huh, Shared amodation. Why hadn’t thought of that before? it <b>was </b><b>a </bmon enough practice, especially for <b>young </b>students or professionals starting out in a now city
<b>I </b>sat up straighter and began actively searching for more simr posts, specifically looking for shared living spaces in the downtown Maxcester City area. After a dedicated <b>hour </b>of scrolling and wring, I came across three posts that seemed promising, each offering a room for rent in a two–bedroom apartment.
The next hour <b>was </b><b>a </b>flurry of <b>messages </b>and brief online conversations with the three individuals who had posted the listings. The first was an immediate rejection, a polite but firm decline on my part, as the avable room was being offered by a middle aged man. Living with a man, especially <b>a </bplete stranger, was out of the question. It was a boundary I wasn’t willing to cross, my personal safety andfort was more important
The other <b>two </b>potential roommates were women. One conversation ended abruptly when <b>I </b>asked a seemingly innocuous question: “How do you prefer to handle cleaning? Do you have a chore chart, or do we just clean as we go?” My message was met with silence, the other woman leaving me on “see” without a reply. <b>Maybe </b>she wasn’t a particrly clean person, or perhaps she found my directness off putting. Either way, it didn’t feel like <b>a </b>good fit
The third and final option seemed the most appropriate, at least on screen. Her name was Joane, and she was a thirty–five–year old woman who had recently gone through a divorce. Her message was straightforward, outlining the avable room in her <b>two</b>–bedroom apartment. The rent she was <b>asking </b>was significantly more <b>manageable </b><b>at </b>only $1500.
I sighed<b>, </b>relief washing over me, albeit tinged with a healthy dose of caution. I would have to go and check out the ce first, meet Joune in p <b>get </b>a feel for her and the apartment beforemitting to anything, right? This wasn’t <b>a </b>decision to be taken lightly.
and
<b>I </b><b>didn’t </b>have much time either, only about a week to finalize amodation before I would need to relocate. Now that <b>I’d </b>epted the internship offer, the reality of the fast–approaching start date was beginning to sink in. ording to the email, I would have to report to work by June 9th, a little over <b>a </b>week away. Time was definitely of the essence!
My thoughts couldn’t help but drift back to Aunt Rose’s rather unconventional description of an ideal life partner. Although she firmly believed those qualities were exclusive to women, her words echoed in my mind<b>, </b><b>a </b><b>strange </b>sense of irony washing over me
Didn’t everything she list out – being good–looking, empathetic, good at cooking, caring for me when I was injured, <b>and</b>… undeniably amazing in bed
didn’t all of that urately describe Niki? The realization hit me with a sharp, unexpected ache in my chest. Despite everything that had <b>happened </b>between us, despite the <b>lies </b>and the contract, a part of me still..
1 bit my lips, pushing the unwee thoughts away, a hollow feeling settling in my chest. Niki was aplication I couldn’t afford to dwell on right now. My focus needed to be on Marcester City, the internship<b>, </b>and the tiny life growing within mo
All of a sudden, a gentle knock sounded on my bedroom door, and I sat up straight, startled out of my reverie, as Mom walked in.
“Are you feeling sick?” she asked, her gaze sweeping over me, taking in my disheveled appearance, I paused<b>, </b><b>a </b>frown <b>creasing </b>my forehead. Was looking unwell? I hadn’t even realized<b>. </b>Shaking my head slightly, “I’m alright, Mom. Just a little tired.”
“Then what <b>was </b>all that about earlier?” she asked, her arms crossing over her chest, a hint of sternness returning to her voice. “Did <b>you </b>forget your manners just because of a little argument?” I paused, the usation stinging slightly.
“Mom…that’s not it,” I sighed, the weariness returning. “You haven’t really been talking to me properly for the past week. On top of that
She <b>raised </b>a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, <b>her </b>gaze unwavering, waiting for me to continue.
“You…went back on your word,” I said softly, the disappointment evident in my
“My word? What exactly did I do?” she questioned, her expression shifting to one of tegned innocence, though I could see a flicker of something else perhaps guilt? – in her eyes. I sighed again, the familiar dance of our unspoken tensions ying out once more.
“Mom…why did d you tell Aunt Rose about my personal matters?” I asked, my voice low
“Your <b>personal </b>matters?” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes wide with surprise.
“My pregnancy, HomIcarified.
She frowned, her initial shock giving <b>way </b>to a look of confusion “Was it supposed to <b>be </b><b>a </b>secret, Elena! From Rose?”
“Yes! A secret from everyone! I haven’t even told Fiona about this. She’s my best friend. You’re the only person who knows. I trusted you with this, Mom My voice <b>cracked </b>slightly on thest word. Her hands dropped to her sides, her previous defensiveness melting <b>away </b>as <b>she </b>came to sit down on the edge of my bed, her gaze softening with remorse
“Haney. Listen to me,” she <b>said</b>, her voice gentle, reaching out to take my hand. Her touch was warm and familiar. “I’m so sorry told her. You’re right, that wasn’t fair of me. I will talk to Rose, tell her not to mention it <b>to </b>anyone else, I promise. But that doesn’t excuse <b>your </b>behavior earlier, Elona. You were being rude, honey,” she added, her tone regaining a touch of her earlier firmness, “Aunt Rose and I have been downstairs for almost two hours now<b>, </b>catching up after all this time, and you didn’t even bother toedown for dinner? That wasn’t like you.” She questioned me, her eyes searching mine. and I frowned, <b>a </b>wave of guilt washing over me. She was right. My own preupation had led <b>to </b><b>a </bpse in basic politeness.
But… sett
Iclenched my fists, taking a slow, deliberate breath through my nose to try and regain myposure. “I’m going…” I said, my voice low but firm, and <b>she </b>Jooked at me expectantly. “The dinner is still on the table. I’ll go heat it up for you now,” she offered, moving to get up.
“bed, and she
“No, Mom, I’m saying that i am going…to Marcester City. For the internship.” emphasized the words, needing her to understand the finality of my decision. “I need to go and check out ces to rent for the duration,” Her movement stopped abruptly, her hand still on the edge seemed to freeze, her <b>gaze </b>fixed on me.
“Elena…” She looked at me as if I <b>had </b>somehow betrayed her, her eyes filled with aplex mix of emotions–hurt, worry, and a flicker <b>of </b>anger.
“Take care of myself, alright?” I insisted, my voice trembling slightly but holding firm. “You have your phone. You can contact me anytime you want. You know how much this internship means to me, Mom…“I kept talking, a nervous stream of justifications and reassurances pouring out of me. “So you’ve decided not to tell Niki then,” she stated, her voice t, and there was a definite hint of anger simmering beneath the surface.
I opened my mouth to offer an exnation, then closed it, the words caught in my throat. Finally, I managed a simple, “es” <b>paused</b>, then added, my voice softer now, pleading for her understanding, “And you won’t tell him either, Mom. Please. Believe me when I say this – I know him better than you
L356%<ol><li>do. You’re wrong if you think, telling him would change the situation for the better. My life has already been broadcasted for pulite view onor. People me disgusting things for marrying the brother of my nc…don’t want any more drama like that, Mom. Please “My voice trailed of the sighed slowly got up from the bed.</li></ol>
“When do you leave?” she asked, her garn still distant, her voice devoid of emotion
swallowed, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. “Tom