Two

The chill of early morning clung to the air as I made my way down the narrow streets, the weight of the grocery basket pulling at my arms. The soles of my shoes, worn thin, slapped against the damp cobblestones, a rhythmic reminder of the life I now led. It wasn't a long walk to the market, but the early hour and the constant weight of Clara's demands made each step feel heavier than the last.

Aiden had already left for school by the time I got out, his backpack slung over his shoulder, a brief smile exchanged between us as he went. That smile was the only light I held onto some days. I pushed thoughts of him to the back of my mind as I approached the row of stalls, ready to haggle for the cheapest vegetables Clara would tolerate.

"Morning, Ivy," the baker, Mr. Turner, greeted me as I passed his stall. His smile was genuine, warm in a way that reminded me of better times. "Same order today?"

I forced a smile in return, even though I could barely afford the bread we always got. "Yeah, but just one loaf this time."

"Of course," he said, wrapping it in brown paper and handing it to me. "Tell your brother I said hello."

"I will, thanks," I replied, exchanging the coins I'd carefully counted before leaving the house. Every penny was precious, and I made sure to stretch it as far as I could.

As I continued down the street, past the fruit stalls and fishmongers, I couldn't help but notice the other people around me—shoppers carrying baskets brimming with goods, families chatting as they browsed, their clothes fresh and clean. It was a different world from mine. A world where people didn't have to choose between food and basic necessities. I'd lived in that world once, or at least, something close to it.

Memories of our old life before Clara took us in crept into my mind as I navigated the market. It wasn't perfect, but it had been better. Mom had always made sure we had what we needed, even when times were tough. I could still remember the smell of her cooking, the way the house felt alive with warmth and love, even when we didn't have much.

But that life was long gone now.

I stopped at the vegetable stall and picked out a few bruised potatoes and onions, the cheapest I could find. As I handed over the last of the money, a wave of exhaustion hit me. I didn't know how much longer I could keep doing this. But I had to. For Aiden. He needed me, and I wasn't going to let him down.

As I turned to leave, my eyes caught sight of a small group of girls around my age, laughing and chatting as they passed by. Their clothes were bright and fashionable, their hair neatly styled. I recognized them from school—not that I'd ever had the chance to talk to them. School had been ripped away from me the moment we'd moved into Clara's house. Now, I was just the girl who scrubbed floors and made breakfast.

I tried not to stare as they walked by, but a pang of jealousy twisted in my chest. They didn't have to worry about anything other than which class to attend or what they'd do on the weekend. For them, life was easy, carefree. For me, it was anything but.

With the basket heavier and my heart a little lighter, I started the long walk back to Clara's house. The sun was starting to climb higher in the sky, and the streets were busier now, filled with people rushing about their day. I kept my head down, moving quickly, trying not to think about the day ahead.

By the time I got back, Clara was waiting for me at the door, her arms crossed and her expression sour. "Took you long enough," she said, her voice sharp. "Get those vegetables in the kitchen. You're behind on your chores."

I didn't bother responding. There was no point. Instead, I hurried past her, setting the basket down on the counter and getting to work. The rest of the morning passed in a blur of scrubbing, chopping, and cleaning, my hands moving on autopilot as my mind drifted.

It wasn't until later that afternoon, when the house was finally quiet, that I allowed myself to sit down, if only for a moment. The weight of the day pressed down on me, and I closed my eyes, trying to block out the endless list of chores still waiting for me.

But instead of rest, my mind wandered back to the day our lives changed. It had been a crisp fall afternoon, the kind where the air smelled of leaves and the promise of winter. Mom had come home late from work that day, her face pale and drawn. She sat Aiden and me down at the kitchen table and told us the news. She'd lost her job, and without it, we couldn't afford to stay in our house. We'd have to move in with Aunt Clara, at least until Mom could find work again.

But that day never came. Instead, sickness crept in, stealing her strength bit by bit until there was nothing left but her memory.

I opened my eyes, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. There was no time for grief. Not here, not now. I had to keep going. For Aiden. For me.

The sound of the front door opening startled me from my thoughts, and I quickly stood up, wiping my hands on my apron as Clara walked into the kitchen.

"Ivy, I need you to clean the living room. We have guests coming for dinner," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

I nodded, already moving toward the broom. Just another task, another hour of work. But as I swept the floors and dusted the shelves, my mind lingered on the past. On what could have been.

And on the faint glimmer of hope that, somehow, I'd find a way out of this life. A way to give Aiden the future he deserved.

Because no matter how hard things got, I wasn't going to let him down. Not like the world had let us down. Not like Clara reminded me every day.