The next morning, the sunlight poured through the thin curtains of Anita's apartment, illuminating the small living room with a harsh glow that seemed to mirror the weight pressing down on her chest. She sat at the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the floor, her mind mixed with responsibilities and worries. Grace. Her sister, barely twenty-two, pregnant, abandoned, and desperate. And somehow, the entire problem had landed squarely on Anita's shoulders.
Anita rubbed her face with both hands, trying to shake off the lingering frustration. She had thought her life was moving forward. Her plans with Jackson were clear: move in together for a year before he left for the eighteen-month work trip, build memories, strengthen their bond. Everything was arranged. Everything was certain. And now, this unpredictable storm had thrown all her careful planning into chaos.
Taking a deep breath, she decided she needed space—a short break from the emotional weight that had been pressing down on her since the night before. Without saying much, she began packing a small bag. A few changes of clothes, her toiletries, personal items she had intended to move to Jackson's place anyway. At least twenty-four hours away, she thought. That was all she needed to calm her mind and gather her thoughts.
Grace, still curled on the couch under a blanket, watched silently. The exhaustion on her sister's face was evident, and her body seemed to slump further with each passing second. Anita finally broke the silence.
"I'm going to Jackson's for a bit," she said flatly.
Grace lifted her head slowly, trying to muster a faint smile. "Oh. Okay."
"I just need some time," Anita added, her voice tight but controlled.
Grace nodded, the lump in her throat making it impossible to speak. She watched as Anita grabbed her bag and headed for the door.
"I'll be back tomorrow," Anita said over her shoulder.
Grace forced a weak nod, but as soon as the door clicked shut, the apartment felt unbearably empty. The quiet pressed down on her, heavier than any weight she had carried before. She sank to her knees, covering her face with her hands. Tears came rushing, hot and relentless. She grabbed her phone and dialed a number she had called dozens of times over the past few weeks—her boyfriend, the father of her unborn child. The phone rang endlessly. No answer. Just like every other time.
Her chest tightened. The sobs wracked her body, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. "I only have you," she whispered to herself, the truth of the situation settling in. And right now, she had only her sister—though even she had to step away.
Jackson's HouseBy mid-morning, Anita arrived at Jackson's apartment. The warm embrace that greeted her was comforting, though she could feel the tension in her chest refusing to dissipate. Jackson smiled as he hugged her tightly.
"Hey," he said softly. "You look stressed."
"I am," she admitted, leaning into his shoulder.
"Come on, let's just relax today. Forget everything else for a while," he said, leading her to the couch.
They spent the morning together in a comfortable silence, flipping through channels on the TV, half-watching a random sitcom. Jackson tried to make her smile, tossing in jokes and playful nudges, but Anita's mind was elsewhere. The weight of Grace's situation is weighing her down.
Eventually, dinner time came. As Jackson was plating food, Anita's phone vibrated sharply. She glanced at the screen—Johnny. Her ex. The one she hadn't expected to hear from in months. Heart racing, she swiped to answer.
"Hello?"
"Hey," Johnny's familiar voice said. "Sorry I didn't call last night. I got caught up with friends and… well, I just remembered what we discussed."
Anita's chest tightened. "And?"
"You can bring her to stay at my place," Johnny said, almost casually, though Anita could sense the hesitation behind his tone.
Anita froze for a moment, the surprise making her pulse quicken. "You… you mean it?" she asked, hardly daring to breathe.
Johnny cleared his throat. "Yes. But… there are rules."
Anita didn't wait for him to finish. She jumped from her chair, excitement spreading across her face like sunlight breaking through clouds. "Whatever rules you have, it's fine!"
Johnny's laugh echoed softly through the phone. "You haven't even heard them yet."
"You can tell me tomorrow when I bring her," she said, her voice bright with relief and gratitude.
"Alright," Johnny replied, chuckling again. "I'll see you tomorrow then."
She hung up, the weight on her chest lifting slightly. She turned to Jackson, who was watching her with a teasing smile.
"What happened?" he asked.
"I… someone agreed to help my sister," she said, smiling faintly.
"So now you're happy?" he teased.
"Yes," she replied, a genuine smile tugging at her lips for the first time all day.
But there was one detail she didn't mention—the person helping her sister was her ex-boyfriend.
Johnny AloneThat evening, after hanging up, Johnny sank into the leather armchair in his apartment. The room was dimly lit, the soft hum of the city outside filtering through the window. A glass of whiskey sat on the side table, untouched. He stared into it for a long moment, swirling the amber liquid lazily, lost in thought.
Was he doing the right thing?
He had seen Grace a handful of times before, always cheerful, stubborn, sometimes too overbearing. She was still a stranger in many ways. Could he really take in a pregnant young woman, even temporarily? Was he ready for the responsibility?
The phone call earlier replayed in his mind. Anita's voice, desperate and apologetic, asking for help. He had felt the tug in his chest he hadn't felt in years—a mix of old memories, lingering familiarity, and a sudden, inexplicable urge to protect.
He drained the glass and poured another, the warmth of the whiskey spreading through him. He couldn't ignore it.
The decision wasn't simple. It wasn't just about helping Grace—it was about trusting Anita, about opening his home and his life to someone else's problems, and about the strange pull he felt every time he thought of her family.
He set the glass down, eyes fixed on the ceiling. A sigh escaped him. Maybe it would work. Maybe it wouldn't. But one thing was certain—he couldn't say no.
"Alright," he whispered to himself. "Let's do this."
And with that, Johnny finally allowed himself to relax, leaning back in the chair as the night settled in around him, the decision was made.