The air in the city tasted different.
It was thicker, heavier—crowded with the smell of exhaust fumes, fried food from street stalls, and something else Aiden couldn't place. Maybe it was the scent of too many people living too close, breathing the same air, chasing the same scraps of survival.
As soon as Aiden stepped off the bus, Mia flinched at the blaring horns and the sheer volume of noise. A bus groaned behind them, a motorcycle sped past far too close, and someone shouted at a vendor in an argument that neither sibling understood.
Mia clutched Aiden's sleeve so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"Aiden," she whispered, eyes darting everywhere. "It's loud. Too loud."
"I know, sweetheart." He brushed a strand of hair from her face and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "Just hold onto me, okay? I'm right here."
They stood on the cracked pavement as the afternoon sun poured over the cityscape—towering buildings blocking the horizon, neon signs flickering even in daylight, crowds pushing past them without a second glance.
In Willowbend, everyone knew their names.
Here, they were nobody.
Just two people in a place too big, too fast, too unfamiliar.
Aiden tugged his worn backpack higher onto his shoulder and guided Mia through the crowd. She followed closely, head bowed, flinching every time someone brushed too near.
Will she ever feel safe again?
The thought clenched around Aiden's heart like a fist.
He'd promised Mia a better chance. Better care. A way to heal.
Even if he had no idea how he was going to manage it.
**********
By late afternoon, Aiden had only one priority—finding a place for them to sleep.
The first tiny clinic he visited handed him a stack of forms he didn't understand and quoted fees that made his chest ache.
"The initial assessment alone is 1500," the receptionist said flatly, chewing gum with disinterest.
Aiden swallowed. "Is there any… cheaper option? My sister was in an accident and—"
"Everyone has a story," she interrupted, tapping her nails against the counter. "Next."
The second clinic was worse.
The third was full.
By the time they reached the half-broken apartment district, the sky had begun to turn lavender. Aiden's feet throbbed. His throat felt raw from lack of water, but Mia's hand in his kept him moving.
They stood before a three-story building with cracked windows and peeling paint. Laundry hung from crooked balconies, dripping onto the sidewalk. A sign plastered on the rusted door read:
"Rooms for Rent — Cheap."
That was all Aiden needed to see.
Inside, a woman with tired eyes and hair tied in a stiff bun sat behind a folding table. She looked over the siblings with suspicion, then softened when she saw Mia leaning heavily on Aiden.
"How much can you pay?" she asked.
Aiden showed her the meager cash he had left after selling everything.
For a moment she hesitated. Then she sighed. "Room 18. Third floor. Bathroom's down the hall. Don't expect much."
Aiden bowed his head. "Thank you."
The room was exactly what he expected: small, stained walls, a single window with a broken latch, and a mattress on the floor with no sheets. But Mia stepped inside and whispered,
"It's… warm."
Warm was enough.
Aiden helped her lie down, adjusting her head carefully. She stared blankly at the ceiling as sirens wailed outside. Her breathing trembled.
He sat beside her and brushed her hair gently.
She didn't respond—not even a blink.
That was happening more often.
Moments where her mind drifted away, swallowed by the trauma she still couldn't climb out of.
"I'm here," he murmured.
Even when she couldn't hear him.
**********
The next morning, Aiden left Mia in the room with food he'd bought from a roadside stall. Her expression remained distant, but she nodded when he told her he'd return soon.
Stepping into the city alone felt like walking into a battlefield without armor.
He walked the length of every street with a "Hiring" sign.
Grocery stores, cleaning services, moving companies, street stalls.
But everywhere he turned, the answer was the same.
"No experience?"
"We're not hiring today."
"You look too tired. Are you sick?"
"We need someone who can work full hours."
"Try again next month."
Aiden bowed, thanked them all, and moved to the next.
His legs felt heavy. His head pounded from lack of sleep.
He could still feel Mia's trembling hands, see her confused eyes.
He needed money. He needed it now.
By late afternoon he stumbled into a small bakery café with pink curtains and tables shaped like cupcakes. He didn't care what they served. He only cared about the "Help Wanted" sign taped over the door.
Inside, a middle-aged woman with glasses perched on her nose frowned at Aiden as he approached.
"You want the job?" she asked bluntly.
"Yes," he said without hesitation. "I can work anytime. I'll learn fast."
"You look like you haven't slept in days."
He forced a tired smile. "I'll manage."
She sighed. "We need someone who can handle dishwashing, cleaning, serving during rush hours… and the customers can be a nightmare."
"I can do it."
She studied him for a long moment…
Then nodded.
"Fine. Trial shift tomorrow. Seven a.m. sharp."
Relief rushed through Aiden so powerfully his knees nearly buckled.
"Thank you. Thank you so much."
She waved him off. "Don't thank me yet. It's minimum wage."
Minimum wage was better than nothing.
Better than watching Mia's condition deteriorate.
He hurried back home, exhausted but hopeful
**********
When he reached the building, the hallway lights flickered unpleasantly. A man argued loudly with someone over the phone in the room next door. A couple shouted on the floor below.
The city was never quiet—not for a moment.
Aiden pushed open the door of Room 18. Mia sat curled on the mattress, knees pulled to her chest. She didn't look up.
"Mia? I brought dinner," he said softly.
No answer.
Aiden set the food aside and kneeled in front of her. "Hey. I'm back."
Her eyes shifted slowly toward him, unfocused.
"Your voice…" she whispered. "I forgot it for a moment."
Aiden's breath cracked.
He pulled her gently into his arms, her thin shoulders trembling beneath his hands.
"It's okay," he whispered. "I'll keep reminding you. As many times as you need."
Her fingers clutched his shirt like a lifeline.
He could feel her heartbeat—fast, frightened.
He held her until she calmed, even though his own heart felt heavy enough to break.
That night, when she finally slept, Aiden sat by the window watching the city lights blur through the fogged glass.
They looked like stars.
But stars were far away—untouchable.
The city lights were harsh, unwelcoming, always reminding him how far from home they were.
He whispered into the darkness, unable to stop himself.
"I'll fix this, Mia. I don't know how yet… but I will."
His voice cracked at the end.
No one answered.
*******
Morning came too quickly.
Aiden barely slept, waking at every sound, afraid Mia would have another panic episode.
He left early for the café, but his thoughts stayed in Room 18.
Every spare coin, every moment of free time—everything would go toward Mia's care.
As he walked the streets, he saw other people going about their days effortlessly—laughing, rushing to work, scrolling on their phones.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed.
His world had shrunk to one goal:
Save Mia. At any cost.
But the city didn't care about desperation.
On his way back to the apartment that afternoon, he visited another clinic—one rumored to be affordable.
The doctor skimmed through the folder of Mia's medical history with a grave expression.
"She will definitely need neurological surgery," he said. "Soon. And it won't be cheap."
Aiden's breath caught. "Can… can you give me an estimate?"
The doctor wrote a number on his notepad and slid it across the table.
Aiden stared at it.
It was more money than he could earn in years.
His stomach twisted painfully.
His vision blurred.
The doctor softened his tone. "If you delay too long, her symptoms may progress. We can manage her episodes for now with medication, but the underlying issue won't fix itself."
Aiden nodded in silence, unable to speak.
Medication meant more expenses.
Surgery meant impossibility.
He pressed a hand over his trembling eyes and inhaled deeply.
"Thank you, doctor," he whispered before leaving.
He walked through the city with numb legs and an empty chest.
The buildings seemed taller, the noise harsher, the crowd suffocating.
When he reached home, Mia was asleep.
She looked peaceful for once.
Aiden dropped onto the floor beside her, covering his face with both hands.
"I'm trying," he whispered. "I'm trying so hard."
His voice broke.
Tears slipped through his fingers silently—tears he never let Mia see.
No one could hear him in the tiny room.
No one cared.
*********
That night, as Mia slept curled beneath the thin blanket, Aiden opened the window slightly. Cold air swept into the room, carrying the sound of distant traffic.
He stared at the towering skyscrapers glowing in the distance.
Somewhere in that endless maze of metal and glass, there had to be an opportunity.
Something that could help him save Mia.
Something more than minimum wage, more than the tiny café, more than begging fate for mercy.
He didn't know what that opportunity would be.
But he would find it.
He had to.
He turned and looked at his sister—sweet, fragile, broken Mia—her breath rising and falling unevenly.
"I'll make it work," he whispered fiercely. "I don't care what I have to do."
Tomorrow he would work.
Tomorrow he would search.
Tomorrow he would fight again.
He crawled onto the mattress beside his sister and wrapped an arm protectively around her.
In the dark, among the noise of a city that didn't know their names or their pain, Aiden closed his eyes with only one thought in his heart:
No matter what the city took from him,
it would not take Mia.
*************