The eviction date for our apartment loomed large, a terrifying deadline. All my efforts to find alternative housing had failed, blocked at every turn by Vivian’s silent influence.
The prospect of homelessness for me and Leo became terrifyingly real. I felt a suffocating weight of failure pressing down on me, my shoulders aching with the burden.
Leo, usually so expressive, had grown strangely quiet. He sat on our few remaining boxes, carefully polishing his prosthetic leg with a soft cloth.
“Mama,” he said softly, looking up, “can we spend our last night at the old cottage?”
His eyes held that familiar, distant look from his dreams. He was still being pulled by an unseen force towards that forgotten Holloway property, now largely abandoned and scheduled for demolition.
“Just one night,” he pleaded, his voice tinged with a desperate hope. “Please.”
The thought of sleeping in a decaying building filled me with dread, but I couldn’t deny him this one request.
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