Eva's pov
The final school bell rang, echoing through the hallway as students hurried out of the classroom.
Laughter and chatter filled the air as everyone rushed toward the exit, eager to go home.
My backpack hung loosely over one shoulder as I rushed down the hallway. When I stepped outside the school building, the afternoon sun was already beginning to dip lower in the sky.
Most students were heading home to rest, have fun and do what normal teenagers do except for me. I'm heading to the café, it's a few blocks away from home.
I've been working there for about a year now. Celeste and my father refused to pay for any of my expenses so I decided to work and take care of myself although I hate the job.
The small bell above the café door chimed softly when I enter the Cafe.
Warm air wraps around me immediately, carrying the rich scent of freshly ground coffee beans and baked pastries. The low hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine fills the cozy space.
My manager looked up from behind the counter. "For the first time since working here you're on time," she sneered.
Eva has always given me a difficult time, she makes my life miserable but I still force myself to work here just so that I would be able to take care of myself.
I nodded quietly, setting my backpack down behind the counter and quickly slip on my apron and tie it around my waist and then go and stand behind the counter, the coffee machines hums while milk steams with a soft hiss.
" Hey, you're here," Mia, my coworker said.
I smiled, nodding.
The evening rush has already started.
"Large cappuccino!" one customer yelled.
"One iced latte!" another shouted.
Orders came quickly and I moved fast as I could, reaching for cups, pressing buttons on the machine, pouring milk with steady hands.
Smile. Serve. Repeat.
The steam from the espresso machine warmed my face, and the familiar routine gave me something to focus on.
By the time the sun began to set outside the café windows, my body feels exhausted and my legs felt heavy from standing.
I glanced at the clock I have a few more minutes left before we close. I grab a cloth and start wiping down counters and stacking cups neatly.
When I'm finally done I untie my apron and place it aside.
"Hey," Mia calls out softly behind me.
I pick up my backpack from the floor and turn around facing her.
"I was wandering if you'd like to come along with me this weekend?" she signed.
Mia can sign, she learnt it because of her younger sister who's also mute.
"It's my birthday and I'll be turning Twenty three and since you're the only friend I have around here, I was hoping you'd come with me to this new club that recently opened."
I shake my head. Night clubs aren't my thing and plus I'm not allowed to go out or even have any friends, remember? I signed.
"It's okay, I guess I'll just stay at home instead. I thought you'd come since it's my birthday but anyway it's fine, I understand."
Eversince I met Mia she was nothing but kind and sweet toward me. She was the first person that had ever been nice to me. Not once did she ever mock or criticize me. She stood up for me whenever Amanda would insult me or yell at me.
As much as I hate nightclubs I won't mind going just to make Mia happy but if anyone at home found out I'll be in trouble.
I give her a small smile, squeezing her shoulder before leaving the Cafe.
Today had been a long and exhausting day and tomorrow I would do it all over again.
____________________________________________________
I pull my sweater tighter around myself as I walk down the dark street toward home. The air has grown colder since the sun set. Streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement.
By the time the house comes into view, my stomach is already twisting with hunger.
I didn't eat anything today.
I was too busy.
The porch light is on tonight and that's never a good sign.
It means everyone's at home including my father.
I slow down slightly as I reach the door, my fingers curling around the strap of my bag.
Maybe they're asleep.
Maybe—
The door swings open before I even touch it.
Celeste stands there.
Her sharp eyes scan me from head to toe like she's inspecting something unpleasant.
"Well," she says coldly. "Look who finally decided to come home."
My stomach drops.
I step inside slowly, lowering my gaze.
She closes the door behind me with a loud click.
"Is this the time you come home?" Celeste demands. Her voice echoing through the hallway.
I quickly raise my hands, signing an explanation as to why I'm late.
The café was busy. I had to stay late.
My fingers move carefully.
Slowly.
Clearly.
But Celeste only stares at me with growing irritation.
"Stop doing that!" she snaps.
My hands freeze.
Her eyes narrow. "That's annoying. How many times do I have to tell you I don't understand it."
My chest tightens.
I try again, slower this time.
Work was busy. I finished late.
Celeste watches for half a second before cutting me off.
"Stop waving your hands around like that."
Her tone sharpens.
"You expect me to just magically understand you?"
Heat creeps up my neck.
My hands slowly lower to my sides.
"I asked you a question," she continues, crossing her arms. "Why are you coming home this late?"
I swallow.
There's nothing else I can do.
The explanation sits trapped behind my teeth, useless.
Celeste studies my silence with growing anger.
"Oh, so now you're just ignoring me?"
I shake my head quickly.
I'm not ignoring her I'm trying to explain but she wouldn't let me.
My reaction only seems to annoy her more.
Her lips curl slightly.
"You know what? I'm tired of this."
She gestures toward the kitchen.
"You were supposed to be home hours ago to prepare dinner but instead you chose to work late."
Can she not make it herself? Or jasmine?
She's always on her phone doing nothing constructive. Why does it always have to be me?
"Since you're later and didn't prepare dinner you have to starve."
My fingers curl slightly at my sides.
Can this woman be anymore cruel. I'm the one that slogs in this house, always cleaning, cooking and running errands for everyone and purchasing the groceries but just today I arrived a few hours late and she refuses to give me food.
Celeste turns toward the kitchen and grabs the covered plate from the counter.
I watch silently.
She lifts the lid.
The smell of warm food reaches me instantly making my stomach tighten painfully.
Without hesitation, she dumps the entire plate into the trash.
The sound of the food hitting the bin feels louder than it should.
"There," she says flatly, wiping her hands together. "Problem solved."
My throat burns.
I stare at the trash can.
The pasta.
The bread.
Gone.
"You need to learn respect," Celeste continues. "If you can't come home on time and do your chores, you don't deserve to eat."
My hands tremble slightly at my sides.
Not from anger.
From hunger.
From humiliation.
But I keep my face still.
Always still.
Celeste walks past me toward the living room.
"Oh—and Evangeline?"
I pause.
"If you're hungry," she says lazily, "maybe next time you'll remember who feeds you."
The television turns on a moment later.
Her laughter mixes with the sound of whatever show she's watching.
I remain standing in the kitchen.
The house smells like food.
But none of it is for me.
Slowly, I walk to the sink and pour myself a glass of water.
The cold liquid does little to quiet the hollow ache in my stomach.
I drink it anyway.
Because sometimes water is the only thing I'm allowed to have.