The city was not kind to the tired.
Aiden learned that within the first week.
The mornings started before sunrise—because Mia rarely slept full nights. Some nights she woke screaming, shaking with terror as though the accident replayed in her head. Other nights, she sat up with empty eyes, whispering to people who weren't there. Aiden soothed her every time, whispering her name until she stopped trembling.
Sleep became a luxury he could no longer afford.
And yet, when dawn broke, he forced himself to move, forced himself to work, forced himself to breathe, because Mia depended on him—and Mia was all he had left.
The café job was only two days in, but already Aiden felt his bones protesting. His wrists ached from scrubbing pans, his voice was hoarse from calling orders, and his feet were covered in blisters inside his worn-down boots.
But he didn't complain.
He couldn't.
Not when he needed money badly enough to ignore the pain.
*******
That evening, after his shift ended, Aiden started the long walk back to the apartment. His entire body hurt, the kind of exhaustion that burrowed down into his spine and made him wonder if he'd collapse right there on the sidewalk.
He had ten minutes of peace before the next storm hit.
"Aiden? Aiden Thompson?" a voice called behind him.
Aiden turned, confused.
No one in the city knew him—
His breath caught.
A woman with shoulder-length brown hair and round glasses was jogging toward him, waving her hand wildly.
It couldn't be.
"Saara?" Aiden whispered.
She stopped in front of him, panting dramatically. "I knew it! I knew that was you. God, you look—well…" She looked him up and down with widened eyes. "You look… exhausted."
Aiden let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "That makes two of us."
Saara's face lit up. "It really is you. Aiden Thompson. From Meadowridge High. The boy who used to tutor half our class for free."
"And you," Aiden said with a small smile, "are still dramatic."
She gasped. "How dare you. I'm an artist."
Aiden had to smile. Saara hadn't changed. Still loud, still expressive, still the kind of person who pulled color into dull spaces.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I live here!" She spread her arms proudly. "In this—polluted, terrifying, overpriced hellhole."
Aiden chuckled. "Sounds about right."
"And you?" she asked. "Last I heard, you were still in the village."
The smile on his face faded. It was subtle, barely noticeable to someone else—but Saara noticed immediately. Her expression softened.
"Aiden… what happened?"
He hesitated.
No one in the city had asked him that. No one had cared enough to ask.
Saara did.
*******
They ended up in a tiny, greasy diner two blocks away—the kind of place with flickering lights, sticky tables, and the smell of fried potatoes clinging to the walls.
Aiden didn't care.
He was too tired to care about atmosphere or cleanliness.
Saara slid into the booth across from him, tapping the chipped menu with her fingers.
"Order something," she said. "My treat."
"You don't have to—"
"Aiden." She narrowed her eyes. "Choose. Something filling. And don't even think about pointing at the cheapest thing here."
He swallowed.
When the waitress arrived, Aiden ordered a simple meal. Saara added fries and tea "for both of us" before Aiden could argue.
"So," she said once they were alone again. "Talk."
Aiden stared at the table for a long moment.
He hadn't told anyone the full story. Not even the villagers. Not even the café manager. Holding it inside had turned it into a kind of heavy mud coating his ribs—every breath thick and suffocating.
But Saara waited quietly.
And Aiden…
Aiden needed to talk.
Even if it hurt.
"Mia was in an accident," he began.
Saara froze.
"What? When?"
"Two months ago." His voice grew tight. "She was saving a stray dog. A truck came out of nowhere."
"Oh my God." Saara's hand flew to her mouth. "Is she… Aiden, is she okay?"
He shook his head slowly.
"She survived. But her head—" He exhaled shakily. "There was trauma. She's unstable now. Panic episodes, memory lapses, confusion."
Saara's eyes filled with immediate empathy.
"And the treatment is expensive," Aiden continued bitterly. "Way beyond anything I can make."
"Aiden…" Saara whispered.
"She's getting worse. Some days she barely remembers me." He closed his eyes. "It's like losing her one piece at a time."
Silence filled the table.
Outside, the city's noise still buzzed—car horns, shouting, the hum of life. But inside the diner, there was only the quiet ache of pain.
Saara reached across the table, placing her hand over his.
"Aiden. Why didn't you call me? Or anyone? You could have asked—"
"I didn't want help." His voice cracked. "I just… I wanted to fix it myself."
He squeezed his eyes shut.
"I failed her."
"No." Saara's voice was firm. "You didn't. You're doing everything you can."
Aiden didn't answer.
He didn't feel like he was doing enough.
Saara seemed to sense the guilt burning inside him. She changed the subject gently.
"So you're working? Here in the city?"
"A café." Aiden rubbed the back of his neck. "Minimum wage. It's something, but… it's not enough."
"Of course it's not," Saara muttered.
"What?"
"Aiden." She leaned back. "Minimum wage in this city won't even pay rent, let alone medical bills."
"I know."
And that knowledge haunted him every minute of the day.
"Have you tried other jobs?" she asked.
"I've been looking. No experience, no connections. I can't leave Mia alone long enough for full-time work."
Saara tapped her cheek thoughtfully.
Then snapped her fingers.
"I know a place hiring. Good pay. Really good pay."
Aiden looked up, hope flickering. "Where?"
She hesitated.
"Well… the thing is… it's nanny work."
"That's fine," Aiden said quickly. "I can do childcare—"
"Female-only nanny work."
Aiden blinked.
"Oh."
There it was—the problem.
Saara groaned. "Why are rich people like this? It's ridiculous. They want a live-in nanny for a five-year-old girl and the ad says, and I quote: Female applicants only. Must be gentle, patient, and discreet. High salary offered."
Aiden forced a laugh. "That rules me out immediately."
"Obviously."
For a moment, they sat in silence again.
Aiden took a sip of the tea the waitress brought over. His hands trembled from exhaustion.
Saara watched him carefully.
She saw the tremor.
She saw the pain in his eyes.
She saw the dark circles beneath them.
Her expression shifted—just slightly.
Like a gear in her mind had clicked into place.
"Aiden," she said slowly. "This is going to sound insane."
He raised a tired eyebrow. "Everything sounds insane at this point."
"No, like—really insane."
"Saara."
She leaned in.
"What if… you applied anyway?"
Aiden blinked at her.
"Saara, I'm a man."
She didn't blink. She didn't break eye contact.
"So?"
"So?" he repeated, baffled.
"So what?" she said again, shrugging. "People cross-dress all the time. Look at theater. Cosplay. Makeup transformations. Wigs. Fashion shows. If it's just for the interview—"
"Saara." Aiden stared at her. "I could never pass."
"You could," she countered.
"I'm tall."
"Lots of women are."
"My voice—"
"Can be softened."
"My jawline—"
"Makeup exists."
"My—"
"Aiden." Her voice turned serious. "You need money. Fast. This is a high-paying job. A ridiculous amount of money for someone with no degree."
He swallowed.
"How much?"
Saara pulled out her phone and slid it across the table.
Aiden looked at the salary listed.
His breath stopped.
It was more than he would earn in two years at the café.
He stared at it, frozen.
Impossible.
Unreachable.
Life-changing.
Saara watched his expression and softened her voice.
"I was joking at first," she admitted. "But… I'm not joking anymore."
Aiden shook his head. "No. No way. That's—crazy."
"Yes," Saara agreed. "It is crazy."
She leaned forward.
"But Aiden… your situation is crazier."
*******
The words hit him harder than she intended.
His lungs felt tight.
His eyes stung.
Images flashed in his mind:
Mia's trembling hands.
Mia waking up screaming for Aiden.
Mia forgetting his voice.
Mia's medical report—surgery needed soon.
His throat closed painfully.
But—
But to disguise himself as a woman?
To lie?
To risk being discovered?
To deceive a wealthy family?
What would happen if he got caught?
He forced a weak laugh. "I'd be fired in seconds. Maybe sued. Maybe arrested. It's a terrible idea."
"Yes," Saara said quietly. "But I'm asking something important."
She held his gaze with surprising intensity.
"What would you do to save Mia?"
Aiden's breath faltered.
"I—"
He couldn't speak.
"Would you work long hours?" Saara asked.
"Yes."
"Would you skip meals to pay her bills?"
"Yes."
"Would you give up sleep? Comfort? Pride?"
"Yes."
"Then…" Saara whispered, "would you give up your appearance?"
Silence.
Heavy, suffocating silence.
Aiden stared down at his trembling hands.
He thought he had already lost everything he could lose.
But apparently, there was still more left to sacrifice.
He looked up at Saara, voice cracking.
"Even if I tried… how would I pull it off?"
Saara smiled slowly.
"Oh, Aiden." She leaned back, crossing her arms triumphantly. "You clearly don't remember who I am."
He blinked. "What do you mean?"
She wagged her finger. "In high school, who was the president of the makeup club? Who won regional cosplay competitions three years in a row? Who once turned our math teacher into a K-pop idol for a joke?"
Aiden stared.
"You?"
"Yes!" she burst out. "That was me! Saara—queen of transformations!"
A nervous laugh escaped him despite himself.
She grinned.
"Let me try. Just once. No pressure. No commitment. If it looks awful, fine, we forget about it. But if it's possible…"
She paused.
"You could get the job. And the money you desperately need."
Aiden's chest tightened.
He stared at her across the dirty diner table, the cheap lights flickering above them.
She was offering him a rope.
A slim, ridiculous, dangerous rope.
But a rope nonetheless.
Aiden inhaled deeply.
"I—"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
Saara reached out, squeezing his hand.
"Just think about it."
********
They left the diner together, walking slowly down the quiet street. The city was dark now, neon lights reflecting off wet pavement.
Aiden didn't speak.
His mind churned violently, tangled with fear, doubt, and desperate hope.
The thought kept repeating:
I can't.
Then:
But I need money.
Then:
Mia needs surgery.
Then:
I'll do anything.
Saara walked beside him for several blocks until they reached a crossroads. Her apartment was one way, Aiden's rental the other.
She turned to him.
"Aiden."
He stopped.
"If you ever decide to try," Saara said softly, "I'll help you. Every step of the way."
His throat ached.
He nodded—slowly.
And Saara gave him a gentle, sad smile.
"Goodnight, Aiden."
As she walked away, Aiden stood alone under the dim streetlamp, feeling the weight of the universe pressing down on his shoulders.
He thought of Mia alone in the room, curled against the cold wall.
He thought of her fragile voice saying, "Aiden… don't leave me."
He thought of her fading memory, her trembling hands.
He closed his eyes.
And whispered into the darkness:
"I would do anything."
********