Five

Stephany’s PoV

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Just my breathing and Elise’s light snoring from her room. That sound usually comforts me. But now, it makes the ache in my heart even worse. She doesn’t know the half of it. She doesn’t know how close we are to losing everything. And it’s my job to make sure she never finds out.

I open my eyes and force myself to keep looking for jobs, pretending like the weight isn’t crushing me. As I scroll, something catches my eye: “FAKE MARRIAGE, REQUIREMENTS: MUST BE A GOOD ACTOR.” The words are ridiculous. It’s so absurd that I actually laugh, a real laugh, something I haven’t done in longer than I can remember.

“Must be one of those scams,” I mutter to myself, draining the rest of the Monster. But the ad lingers in my mind longer than I’d like to admit. Fake marriage, huh? Desperate times, desperate measures… but still, I shake it off.

I check the time. It’s almost 6:45 a.m., time to head to the café. I stand up and quietly walk to Elise’s room. I open the door slowly, peeking in at her. She’s snuggled under her blankets, her face peaceful, her little snores soft and steady. For a second, I just stand there, watching her.

My heart swells with love but breaks at the same time. She’s so young, so innocent. I promised I’d protect her, that I’d keep her safe no matter what. But I can feel the pressure mounting. Am I doing enough? My chest tightens again as I quietly shut the door, my heart torn between pride and guilt.

Outside, the air is cold and crisp. The sky still dark, with just a hint of deep blue as the sun prepares to rise. As I walk toward the train station, the chilly air bites at my skin, but my mind is miles away, back in that endless loop of worry and fear. By the time I reach the café at 7:30, the weariness has already settled into my bones. I clock in and try to push everything else to the back of my mind. But that stupid ad, “FAKE MARRIAGE,” won’t stop haunting me.

It was like the universe had a twisted sense of humor. Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, they did. The café where I’d worked for years, the place that had been my one steady source of income decided to let me go.

“Sorry, Steph. We’re cutting down staff,” my boss said without even looking me in the eye. The words felt like a punch to the gut.

I stood there, numb, watching as he turned away, dismissing me with a wave like I hadn’t spent years showing up, working late shifts, cleaning tables long after the doors were locked. “Please, Mr. Daniels,” I said, my voice catching in my throat, trying to keep the panic from bubbling over. “I need this job. I can’t… I can’t lose this right now.”

But he wouldn’t listen. It was as if my words didn’t even register. He just shook his head. “I’m sorry, Steph. My hands are tied.”

I left the café feeling hollow. The cold air outside hit me, but I barely noticed. It was like the world had gone mute, all the sounds of the city around me fading into nothing. I just stood there, staring at the sidewalk, trying to figure out how I was going to tell Elise. How was I going to keep us afloat now?

For the next few days, I threw myself into searching for a new job. Those jobs I had ignored that morning were no longer available.

Anything. I went from place to place, filling out applications, practically begging for a chance to work. But it was always the same: a shake of the head, a “We’re not hiring,” or a quick, “We’ll keep your application on file.”

I tried everything. Local stores, restaurants, even places I knew I was overqualified for. But no one would give me a break.

Each rejection chipped away at me a little more. I found myself sitting outside in the cold after another wasted day of job-hunting, staring at the job app on my phone.

My fingers hovered over the screen, scrolling through the usual garbage—until that same ad popped up again: “FAKE MARRIAGE, REQUIREMENTS: MUST BE A GOOD ACTOR.”

This time, I didn’t laugh. This time, I clicked on it.

I stared at the details, reading through the description. It was vague, sketchy, and probably a scam but the promise of money was right there in bold letters. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I read it again, weighing my options.

A fake marriage. How ridiculous. How desperate would I have to be to even consider this?

But then I thought of Elise. I thought of Don Mario’s threats, the look in his eyes when he mentioned her.

I thought of the stack of unpaid bills sitting on our kitchen counter, the rent notice that would be arriving any day now.

I pressed the button. An email form popped up, asking for my information. My fingers trembled as I typed. What am I doing? I hesitated for a long moment, my cursor hovering over the send button. But then I hit send.

The email shot off, and my heart dropped into my stomach. There was no going back now.

I closed my laptop and sat there, staring at the dark screen, waiting for the guilt to hit me. But instead, I just felt… tired. What other choice do I have?