EIGHTEEN

"What?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Mom, and who is my boyfriend?"

Her expression was calm, almost too calm. "Ivan," she replied. "I called Ivan."

I felt the floor drop out from under me. "Mom, what did you do?"

"I did what I had to do," she said, her voice firm. "I heard you and Char talking. You need help, Wendy. We need help."

"I can't believe you," I said, my voice rising. "Ivan is not my boyfriend, Mom. He's my boss. How could you call him?"

She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Wendy, I know how you feel about him. And when I called, he didn't deny anything. He was very concerned and more than willing to help."

My face flushed with anger. "That's because he cares about me, but not like that. You put him in an awkward position. How could you do this without talking to me first?"

"I did what I thought was best," she said, her voice unwavering. "This is about Karen. She's in jail, Wendy. Do you understand that? We're running out of time."

"We could have found another way," I shot back. "You didn't have to drag Ivan into this."

"We didn't have time for another way," she said, her eyes hard. "I won't apologize for trying to save my daughter."

I felt a mix of rage and despair. "So what now? Did he give you the money?"

She nodded. "He's arranged for the rest of the bail money, and he's also funding a lawyer to help Karen."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. "Mom, do you realize what you've done? This isn't just about the money. This is my career, my reputation."

Her eyes were filled with frustration and resolve. "I know, Wendy. But right now, we need to focus on Karen."

I stormed out of the apartment, needing to clear my head. I felt trapped, cornered. Ivan had always been kind and supportive, but this was too much. I didn't want to owe him anything, especially not something this significant.

I walked around the neighborhood, trying to collect my thoughts. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over everything, but I felt cold inside. Everything was spiraling out of control, and I didn't know how to stop it.

As I wandered aimlessly, my thoughts raced. Why did everything always fall on me? Why did I always have to be the one to clean up the mess? Karen had made her own choices, and now I was left to pick up the pieces. It wasn't fair. I had my own life, my own dreams, and now they were being overshadowed by this crisis.

I found a park bench and sat down, burying my face in my hands. The weight of the world seemed to press down on my shoulders, and for a moment, I let myself feel the full extent of my frustration and helplessness. Tears streamed down my face, and I didn't bother to wipe them away. What was the point?

People walked by, some glancing at me with concern, others ignoring me completely. I felt invisible, lost in my own misery. The evening air grew cooler, and I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to find some comfort. But there was none to be found.

I thought about Ivan, the way he always seemed to be there for me. He was kind and generous, but I couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. I didn't want to take advantage of his feelings for me. And now, thanks to my mom, he was involved in this mess.

Hours passed, and I barely moved. My phone buzzed with messages and calls, but I ignored them all. I wasn't ready to face anyone, especially not Ivan. I needed time to think, to process everything.

As night fell, I finally stood up, feeling numb and exhausted. I made my way back home, the streets now quiet and empty. When I walked in, Char was sitting on the couch, looking worried.

"Wendy, where have you been?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

"Just needed to clear my head," I muttered, sinking into a chair.

Char watched me carefully. "Your mom told me what happened."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Of course she did."

"Wendy, she did what she thought was best," Char said gently. "You have to understand that."

"She crossed a line," I snapped. "She had no right to involve Ivan without talking to me first."

Char sighed, leaning forward. "I get that you're upset, but Karen is in serious trouble. We don't have time to be picky about where the help comes from."

I stared at her, feeling a fresh wave of frustration. "So you're taking her side?"

"It's not about sides, Wendy," Char said, her voice steady. "It's about doing whatever it takes to help Karen. Your mom did what she had to do. And honestly, Ivan can help in ways we can't."

I shook my head, feeling the tears start to well up again. "I don't want to owe him, Char. I don't want him to think I'm using him."

Char reached out, putting a hand on my arm. "Ivan knows you're not like that. He cares about you, and he wants to help. Don't let your pride get in the way of saving your sister."

I buried my face in my hands, feeling overwhelmed. "I just... I don't know what to do."

Char squeezed my arm gently. "We'll figure it out. But right now, we need to focus on Karen. Ivan's already helped with the bail and the lawyer. That's a start."

I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm myself. "I just feel so trapped, Char. Like everything is falling apart, and I can't do anything to stop it."

She sat back, her eyes filled with sympathy. "I know it's hard, Wendy. But we're all in this together. We'll get through it."

The rest of the night passed in a blur. I tried to distract myself with mindless tasks, but my mind kept drifting back to Karen, to Ivan, to the mess we were in. Every time my phone buzzed, I felt a jolt of anxiety, dreading another conversation, another piece of bad news.

---

The next morning dawned with a heaviness that seemed to seep everything around me. I had barely slept, my mind filled with the events of the previous day. Char and I had managed to avoid discussing Ivan further, but the tension between us lingered like an unwelcome guest in our small apartment.

As I sat at the kitchen table, holding a cup of lukewarm coffee, Char came from her room. Her expression was tired but determined, a reflection of my own emotions, no doubt. I watched her stand there while I took a sip of my coffee. The silence between us was heavy, filled with unspoken words and mutual frustration. I knew Char was trying to help, but I couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal. She had sided with my mom, and it hurt more than I wanted to admit.

"Any news?" I asked quietly, though I feared the answer.

"Not yet," she replied. "But the lawyer should be in touch soon."

"We can't wait any longer. We need to go bail Karen out." Mom said, also coming out of Char's room. She had slept with Char last night knowing I was still mad at her. Char nodded in agreement to bailing Karen first, I set down my cup with a sigh.

"Fine! Let's go." I said to Char, making it so obvious that I was ignoring mom.

---

The drive felt like an eternity. Each passing mile weighed heavily on my chest, a reminder of the urgency of our mission. Char drove in silence, her hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. I knew she was as worried and conflicted as I was. When we arrived at the jail, my heart sank. The sight of the building before us, a stark reminder of Karen's predicament. We parked in a crowded lot and made our way inside.

The process of bailing Karen out was agonizingly slow. We filled out forms, answered questions, and waited. Hours passed like minutes, each minute stretching into an eternity of anxiety and uncertainty.

Finally, a clerk called us forward. "You're here for Karen Banks?"

"Yes," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Please wait here," the clerk instructed, disappearing into a back room.

I paced nervously, my mind racing with a thousand thoughts. Would Karen be okay? Would she blame us for what had happened? Could we really trust Ivan to come through with the rest of the money?

After what felt like an eternity, the clerk returned with a piece of paper in hand. "Here's your copy of the bail bond agreement. Karen will be released shortly."

Relief washed over me, fleeting but palpable. We signed the paperwork hastily and were directed to a waiting area. Minutes later, Karen emerged, looking pale and fragile but relieved to see us.

"Thank you," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

"We're not out of the woods yet," Char replied, her voice tight with emotion. "We still have a long way to go." And that was true, long legal proceedings, court's ruling and so much. Besides, we needed to find the bastard who caused this.

Back at the apartment, Karen collapsed onto the couch, exhaustion etched into every line of her face. We sat in silence for a while, each lost in our own thoughts.

"I'm sorry," Karen finally said, her voice barely a whisper. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

"We know," I replied softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "We're here for you, Karen. Whatever happens, we'll get through it together."

Karen nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I don't know what I would do without you both."

Char and I exchanged a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that held us together, even in the darkest of times. Despite everything, we were family, and that meant more than any of the hardships we faced.

Later that night, Char confronted me in the kitchen. "Wendy, you need to talk to Ivan," she said firmly.

I shook my head, my hands trembling. "I can't, Char. Not after everything that's happened."

"He's already helped us, Wendy," Char insisted. "He cares about you. You owe it to yourself to at least talk to him."

"I don't want him to think I'm using him," I replied, my voice cracking with emotion.

"You're not," Char said softly. "He knows that. He just wants to help."

I sighed, feeling defeated. "I'll think about it, okay?"

Char nodded, her expression sympathetic. "Just don't wait too long, Wendy. We need all the help we can get."

That night, as I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, my thoughts turned to Ivan. He had been nothing but kind and supportive throughout this ordeal. And yet, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease. Would talking to him only complicate things further?

But as much as I resisted, a small voice inside me urged me to reach out. Ivan had already proven himself to be a lifeline in our darkest hour. Perhaps it was time to swallow my pride and talk to him, at least to thank him.