The rain didn’t stop.
I walked for hours, my suitcase wheels catching on every crack in the sidewalk. My clothes clung to my skin as my shoes squelched with each step.
I had nowhere to go.
The cheap motel where I’d been staying had kicked out this morning due to unpaid bills. My credit cards were gone. My phone was gone.
I had eighty-three dollars in my wallet. That was it.
The streets grew rougher as I walked. My stomach was cramped as pain shot through my lower abdon.
I stumbled, catching myself against a brick wall.
Not now. Please, not now.
Another cramp. Sharper this ti.
I looked around desperately. A convenience store glowed ahead, its fluorescent lights harsh against the dark.
I made it to the entrance before my legs gave out.
The world tilted as the pavent rushed up. Then nothing.
*******
When I opened my eyes, bright lights burned overhead.
I was in a hospital. The antiseptic sll was unmistakable.
"Easy." A voice that sounded female, gentle. "Don’t try to sit up yet," the nurse said softly, her tone calm and reassuring.
I turned my head. A nurse stood beside the bed, checking sothing on a monitor. She was young, maybe late twenties, with kind brown eyes and dark curly hair pulled back.
"My baby." My hand flew to my stomach, voice trembling. "Is my baby"
"Your baby’s okay." She smiled warmly. "With a strong heartbeat. You’re lucky."
The tears ca then. Relief so intense it hurt.
The nurse handed tissues. "I’m Olivia. You’ve been out for about an hour." She pulled up a chair beside . "What’s your na?"
"Aria." My voice cracked. "Aria Monroe."
Sothing flickered in her expression—a spark of recognition?
"The Monroe family?" She asked tentatively.
I looked away. "Not anymore." My voice was hollow.
Olivia was quiet for a mont. Then she patted my hand gently. "Well, Aria-not-anymore, you need to rest. You’re severely dehydrated and malnourished." Her voice softened. "When’s the last ti you ate?"
I couldn’t rember.
She stood. "I’ll be right back."
She returned minutes later with a sandwich and juice from the cafeteria.
"Hospital food isn’t great, but it’s food." She watched eat carefully. "Do you have sowhere to stay?"
I shook my head.
"Insurance?"
Another head shake.
Olivia bit her lip, concern etching her features. "Okay. Let talk to the billing departnt. Maybe we can"
"I have eighty-three dollars." I pulled out my soggy wallet with a flat voice. "That’s all I have in the world."
She stared at with wide eyes.
"My family disowned today." The words ca out tumbling. "My husband filed for divorce. I have nothing."
"Jesus." Olivia sat down hard, her mouth tight. "I’m so sorry."
We sat in silence while I finished eating.
"The thing is," Olivia said slowly, "the treatnt you received tonight? That’s going to cost about two hundred dollars minimum." She looked uncomfortable. "Without insurance."
My stomach dropped. "I can’t pay that."
"I know." She stood. "Which is why I’m about to do sothing that could get fired." She glanced down the hall nervously. "I’m going to mark you down as indigent and apply for ergency assistance. It’ll cover most of it."
"You don’t have to" I started.
"Yes, I do." Her smile was sad but firm. "I’m a nursing student. I’m not rich. But I’m not watching a pregnant woman get thrown to the wolves by the system."
New tears fell from my cheeks. Kindness hurts worse than cruelty sohow.
Olivia left to handle paperwork as I lay in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling.
Voices drifted from the hallway—other nurses, gossiping during their break.
"Did you hear about that patient in 304?" one voice whispered.
"The pregnant one?" ca another.
"Yeah. Apparently, she’s Damien Blackwood’s discarded wife."
My chest tightened.
"No way. The billionaire?"
"Yes, my cousin works at Blackwood Tower. Said the wife showed up begging, and he threw her out. Told her to get rid of the baby."
Then ca a Laughter. "Brutal."
"Rich people have no hearts."
"She probably deserved it. Was a gold digger, probably."
More laughter as their voices faded down the hall.
I turned my face to the pillow and cried silently.
This was my life now. A cautionary tale and gossip in hospital hallways.
When Olivia ca back, she found packing the few things I’d brought.
"Whoa, what are you doing?" she asked, moving quickly to stop . "You need to stay overnight for observation."
"I can’t afford to stay overnight." I pulled on my damp jacket, my voice firm despite the ache. "I need to leave."
"Aria"
"Thank you for everything." I grabbed my suitcase. "Really. But I need to go."
She caught my arm gently. "Where?"
Good question.
I had eighty-three dollars. A suitcase. And a baby depending on .
"I’ll figure it out." I said as I pulled free.
Olivia’s expression shifted. She reached into her scrubs pocket and pulled out a card.
"This is the number of my personal cell." She pressed it into my hand. "Promise you’ll call if you need help. Any help."
I looked at the card. "Why are you being nice to ?" My voice barely a whisper.
"Because soone should be." She squeezed my hand firmly. "Promise ."
"I promise."
I left before she could see cry again.
*********
I ended up at a twenty-four-hour diner on the edge of town. .
I ordered the cheapest thing on the nu—toast and coffee—and made it last two hours.
The waitress, an older woman with tired eyes, refilled my coffee without comnt.
At 3 AM, I pulled out Olivia’s card. Below her number, she’d written: You’re stronger than you think.
Was I?
I opened my wallet. Sixty-eight dollars left after the hospital vending machine and diner bill.
I pulled out the ultrasound picture. My baby"What do I do?" I whispered to the image. "How do I save us?"
The waitress appeared with more coffee. "Are you okay, honey?"
I looked up at her. "Can I ask you sothing?"
She set down the pot. "Shoot."
"If you had nothing—no money, no family, no help—what would you do?"
She studied for a long mont. Then she sat down across from .
"I’d leave." Her voice was matter-of-fact. "This city, this life, all of it. I’d go sowhere nobody knew my story and start over." She nodded at my suitcase. "Looks like you’re already packed."
"I don’t have money for a bus ticket." I say my voice barely audible.
She was quiet. Then she reached into her apron and pulled out a wad of bills.
"I can’t" I started.
"It’s two hundred dollars." She pushed it across the table. "Take it. Pay back soday if you want or don’t."
"Why would you" My voice caught.
"Because thirty years ago, I was you." Her eyes were sad. "And nobody helped . So I’m helping you."
I stared at the money.
"The bus station is four blocks east." She stood. "London, Paris, hell—Timbuktu. Doesn’t matter where. Just go sowhere you can breathe."
I took the money with shaking hands. "Thank you."
"Don’t thank , just survive." She walked away.
*********
The bus station was nearly empty at 4 AM. I studied the departure board. Buses to everywhere—Chicago, New York, Miami.
But one caught my eye: International Flight Connections.
An idea sparked.
I approached the ticket counter. The clerk looked half-asleep.
"What’s the cheapest way to get to Europe?" I asked, voice hopeful but wary.
He blinked at . "Europe?"
"London specifically."
He typed sothing. "You’re looking at about eight hundred minimum for a flight. Budget airlines might go lower if you’re flexible on dates." He squinted at his screen. "There’s a standby list for a flight tomorrow afternoon. Four hundred if you can get on."
Four hundred. I had two hundred sixty-eight.
"Is there any way to earn money quickly?" The words ca out desperate. "Any jobs at the airport? Anything?"
He gave a pitying look. "Not that’ll pay in ti for tomorrow’s flight, kid."
I stood there, defeated.
Then my phone—no, not my phone. I didn’t have a phone anymore.
But I did have sothing.
I opened my suitcase right there in the station. Dug to the bottom.
My grandmother’s necklace. The one my mother had missed when she went through my room. It had been in my jacket pocket.
Gold chain. "Is there a pawn shop near here?" I asked the clerk.
He pointed. "Two blocks south but it opens at six."
I waited in the bus station, watching the clock.
At 6:05 AM, I walked into the pawn shop.
The man behind the counter barely looked up. "Yeah?"
I set the necklace down. "How much?"
He examined it with a jeweler’s loupe. "Three hundred."
"It’s worth at least five" I interrupted.
"Three hundred." He looked at over the loupe. "Take it or leave it."
I took it.
By noon, I had a standby ticket and a prayer. By 2 PM, I was on a plane to London.
As it took off, I pressed my face to the window. The city spread below .
Damien was down there sowhere. Probably with Vivian. Living his perfect life while I fled like a criminal.
My parents were in their mansion, pretending I’d never existed.
Everyone who’d hurt was comfortable, safe, winning.
And I was running with nothing.
My hand moved to my stomach.
"Goodbye to the woman I was," I whispered. "When I co back, they won’t recognize ."
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