The next day, he came back. And the day after that. He watched from a distance as Maria split stale bread in half, as Ethan struggled to breathe through his cough, as Lily played with a broken doll missing one eye. He noticed how Maria flinched at sudden noises, how she checked over her shoulder constantly.
One afternoon, Andrew saw a man approach the shack. The man was loud, aggressive, his gestures sharp and threatening. Andrew couldn’t hear the words, but he didn’t need to. Maria stood her ground, shaking but unyielding, while the children huddled behind her. When the man finally left, pointing and shouting that he’d be back to collect “what was his,” Andrew understood.
This wasn’t just poverty.
It was fear. It was being hunted.
That night, inside Andrew’s office, Maria finally broke. Tears streamed down her face as she told him everything—about Ethan’s medical condition, the treatments she couldn’t afford, the loan she took in desperation. About losing her furniture, her documents, her home. About the debt collector who found her everywhere, no matter how often she moved.
“This job,” she sobbed, “it’s the only thing keeping us from disappearing.”