Everything Is Wrong

Once Dahlia boarded the taxi, heading back to the apartment she stayed in, still dressed in her uniform, she finally let her tears fall. Her lips quivered as she covered her face with her palms, her body shaking. She sobbed uncontrollably, like a child who had lost their favorite toy.

“Hey, are you okay?” the taxi driver asked, his voice filled with concern as he glanced at her through the rearview mirror.

Dahlia sniffed, struggling to control her breath. “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t mind me,” she replied, her voice broken and barely above a whisper.

The taxi driver hesitated, but when Dahlia offered no further explanation, he decided to respect her silence, though his gaze lingered in the mirror, showing that he still cared.

Dahlia continued to sob, her heart breaking in ways she couldn't put into words, until the taxi finally pulled up to the story building where she lived.

She wiped her tears quickly, trying to compose herself before paying the driver and leaving the cab.

When she reached the doorstep of the small, cramped apartment that she shared with a stranger-turned-friend, she had planned to retreat to her room and cry until she could cry no more. As she inserted the key into the door, however, she realized it wasn’t locked.

Her instincts kicked in, her guard going up. She took deep breaths before pushing the door open. But to her surprise, she was greeted not by an intruder but by Stacy, her roommate.

Stacy looked up from the couch, her eyes narrowing as she took in Dahlia’s tear-streaked face.

Concern appeared on her face, and she rose to her feet. “Hey, are you okay? What happened to your face?” she asked, gesturing toward Dahlia’s reddened cheeks.

“It’s nothing, Stace. I’m fine,” Dahlia said quickly, rubbing her face as if she could erase the evidence of her pain.

Stacy frowned. “It sure doesn’t look like it. Are you sure you're okay?”

Dahlia sighed, her voice sharper than she intended. “I said I’m fine. Just leave it alone, Stace.” She paused, softening her tone before adding, “I’m sorry. By the way, aren’t you supposed to be at the salon?”

“Yeah, it's okay, ” Stacy replied, her expression understanding, letting things slide. “I had a stomach upset from the sushi I ate last night. Probably won’t be going anywhere near that place again for a while. But what about you? You’re not supposed to be home this early. Did your boss give you a head start on the weekend or something? You’re usually off on Saturday nights.”

Dahlia hesitated, contemplating on telling Stacy the truth, or masking it all in. “Yeah, something happened. It’s nothing big.”

“If you say so,” Stacy replied, clearly unconvinced. She dropped back onto the couch, grabbing the remote. Just as Dahlia thought the conversation was over, Stacy added, “By the way, your mom called. Said she has something important to discuss with you. She sounded pretty serious, so you should probably call her back ASAP.”

Dahlia’s interest was piqued, her mind temporarily forgot the earlier incident with Asher. Her brows furrowed in intrigue. “Thanks, Stace,” she muttered, heading into her room.

The walls of Dahlia’s room were worn-out, much like the rest of the house. However, she had added her personal touch to make it feel more inviting. Streaks of purple and yellow brightened the space, complemented by pictures of her family: her mother, father, younger brother, younger sister, and herself. A reminder of the people she held closest.

Scattered around were signs of her creativity: the little lights she had decorated her room with, simple arts and crafts she’d made, and small gifts sent from her family.

Despite its modest size and worn condition, the room radiated comfort, a proof to Dahlia's ability to find beauty in the simple things and her deep connection to her loved ones.

She slumped onto the creaking bed, letting out a sigh as she wiped her face and ran a hand through her hair. Reaching for her bag, she retrieved her phone to call her mother.

As per habit, Dahlia’s mother picked up on the first ring.

“Hey, Mom. What happened? Stacy said you called her and mentioned you had something important to tell me,” Dahlia began, her tone weary as she kicked off one shoe and started removing the other.

There was a long pause on the other end. Too long. Dahlia froze mid-motion, the second shoe still in her hand, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“Mom?” She pulled the phone away briefly to check the screen, then brought it back to her ear. “Mom, are you there?”

Finally, her mother spoke, her voice heavy with sorrow and a London accent. “Dahlia... Lorelei’s leukemia is back.”

The shoe slipped from Dahlia’s hand, landing with a hollow thud on the floor. Her world cracked, the words echoing in her mind as she stared blankly ahead, her lips parting in disbelief.

“What?” she whispered, the word barely audible, her voice trembling with denial.

Her mother exhaled a shaky breath, the sound loudly heard through the phone. “I took her to the hospital a few days ago because of some changes I noticed. The doctors confirmed it. It’s back. They said we need to start treatment immediately.”

Dahlia rose to her feet without realizing it, her mother’s words echoing in her ears. “What do you mean—how did it come back?”

Her mother’s voice quivered as she explained, “I asked the doctor, and he said it’s not uncommon for people with acute leukemias, like Lorelei’s. Dahlia, we need a lot of money—around £200,000 for her treatment. The doctor suggested going through the NHS, but there’s a waiting list, and that could take too long. We need to treat Lorelei privately. I can’t tell your brother, Jonathan; he’s focused on his studies. I don’t know what to do.” Her voice broke, dissolving into sobs.

Dahlia’s hands trembled as she held the phone, tears welling up in her eyes. “Okay, Mom, stop crying. Let me think.”

She took a deep breath, placing her hand on her head, her mind racing for answers. “Can we take out a loan?” she finally asked, her voice uncertain.

Her mother let out a shaky sigh. “I don’t think we can. We don’t have collateral. The bank won’t accept the house. It’s too old. The only thing we could’ve used was your father’s car, but it’s gone, just like him. If your father were here…” Her voice broke, around round of sobs echoing through the line. “He’d know what to do.”

A single tear escaped down Dahlia’s cheek, but she wiped it away quickly, hardening her expression. “Mom, Dad isn’t coming back. It’s just you and me now. We’ll figure something out. We have to.”

Dahlia's mother sniffled before speaking, “Well, at least you still have your job at the mansion. Maybe you could ask your boss for a raise? Do you think he’d agree?”

Dahlia’s expression crumbled into pain. Her lips quivered, and tears threatened to spill.

She knew she couldn’t keep the truth from her mother any longer.

Her mouth hung open in hesitation before she mustered up the courage to speak. “Mom… I got fired today.”

A suffocating silence filled the line, before Dahlia's mother’s voice came through, shaky and uncertain. “What happened?”

“I was accused of stealing,” Dahlia admitted, her voice breaking. “I didn’t do it, Mom. I swear. But my boss didn’t believe me. He fired me… and he must’ve told the agency by now. The only money I’ll have is from my last paycheck, and that won’t even cover a quarter of Lorelei’s treatment.”

Her sobs came in harder now, the reality of life sinking into both of them.

“Oh God, why is this happening to us?” Dahlia's mother sobbed.

“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll find a way. I have to find a way,” Dahlia said, her voice trembling but filled with determination. “Even if it means going back to beg my boss. I’ll accept that I stole the necklace… Maybe he’ll forgive me.”

Dahlia's mother sniffled before responding, “Dahlia, you don’t need to go back. I think I have an idea. The agency I work for mentioned they were looking for a candidate. I’ll put your name in. I’m certain you’ll get the job.”

“But… that would mean I’d have to come back home… to London,” Dahlia said hesitantly.

“It’s the only way,” her mother replied firmly. “We need to be close together for Lorelei.”

Dahlia took a deep breath, swallowing her hesitation. “Alright. I’ll start packing.”

They spoke a little more, finalizing details, before the call ended.

Dahlia set her phone down with a heavy sigh and walked out of her room. She found Stacy engrossed in a TV show, but her emotions were too overwhelming to hold back.

“Stace?” she called softly, her voice broken, tears streaming freely down her cheeks.

Stacy looked up sharply, her face softening when she saw Dahlia’s state. “Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked gently, rising to her feet.

“Everything,” Dahlia whispered. Her voice cracked as she repeated, “Everything is wrong.” She collapsed into Stacy’s open arms, letting her emotions run free in unrestrained sobs.