You can't go out without our permission

Luna, it feels like a cage dressed in silk every day. She sat curled into one corner of the wide couch, the air-conditioning humming softly above her. Outside, life moved on without her. She hadn't stepped out in days. Part of the contract—discretion is mandatory, they said. No visitors. No outings. No exposure.

She had traded her freedom for her family's life.

And now, all she could do was wait.

"Miss, are you alright?" came a gentle voice behind her.

Luna turned her head to see Mrs. Maria, the housekeeper, standing in the doorway with a warm smile and a cautious gaze.

"I'm fine," Luna replied with a small nod. But her eyes betrayed her—quiet and distant, holding back the storm she hadn't dared let out since she signed those papers.

Mrs. Maria hesitated, then stepped closer. "Can I get you anything?"

Luna paused, her voice a little softer this time. "Actually… do you think you could find me some medical books?"

"Medical books?" Maria blinked, a little surprised.

Luna offered a tired smile. "I just like reading them. Keeps my mind… somewhere else."

The older woman's expression warmed with a bit of understanding. "Of course. I'll see what I can find."

Later that evening, she returned with a small stack of borrowed textbooks—anatomy, pharmacology, prenatal care. Luna's eyes lit up the moment she saw them. She ran her fingers over the worn covers like they were treasures.

That night, she read until her eyes burned. It reminded her of the library in Asosura, of stolen moments between cleaning and chores, of dreams buried beneath obligations. And though the house was quiet, and the future uncertain, those books made her feel like herself again—if only for a few hours.

But the peace didn't last.

Two days before her next appointment, her phone buzzed.

Louis.

Her heart skipped as she answered.

"Luna?" His voice cracked. "They told me I have to… have surgery. For my heart. They said I might not wake up."

Her throat tightened instantly. "Hey—hey, no, no," she whispered, clutching the phone. "Don't say that, Louis. You're going to be fine, okay? I promise you, I'm doing everything I can."

"But I'm scared," he whispered.

Luna felt the tears coming, but forced herself to sound steady. "It's okay to be scared. I'm scared too. But you're not alone, Louis. You have me. And Mama. And we're doing all this for you."

He was silent for a long moment, and then she heard a sniff. "Do you think… do you think I'll still be able to play football again?"

Luna laughed quietly, wiping her cheek. "Yes. And I'll be there, screaming from the sidelines and embarrassing you as usual."

He smiled faintly. "Promise?"

"Promise," she whispered, her voice catching. When the call ended, she sat for a long time with the phone pressed to her chest.

Luna couldn't breathe.

The apartment felt tighter with every hour, its walls pressing in like silent accusations. She had tried to distract herself—cleaning, reading, even folding the same blanket three times. But nothing could stop the ache in her chest, or the pounding question in her mind: What if something happens to Louis?

She grabbed her coat.

Samuel, the driver, wasn't around. No one was. No one to stop her, no one to remind her that she wasn't allowed to leave, not even to check on the people she was doing all of this for.

So she left.

The hospital was quiet, unnervingly so. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to her skin as she walked through the hallway, her heart racing faster with every step. When she reached Louis's room and saw him lying there, pale and hooked to machines, her breath caught in her throat.

"Luna!" he exclaimed weakly, eyes lighting up.

She rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him carefully, holding on as if he might disappear.

"You came," he whispered.

"Of course I did," she said, her voice thick. "I needed to see you. I needed to see that you're okay."

Louis looked away, fidgeting with the edge of his blanket. "Everyone keeps telling me to be strong," he murmured. "That I'm brave. But I'm fifteen, Luna. I'm still a kid. I don't want to be brave. I just… I just want this to stop."

Her heart shattered a little more.

She cupped his cheek and leaned her forehead against his. "You are brave, Louis. You're the bravest boy I know. And you don't have to do this alone, okay? I'm here. I'll be with you through it all. I promise."

He nodded slowly, blinking away tears. "Where's Mom?"

Luna hesitated, then forced a small smile. "She… she went out to look for work. But she'll come see you soon."

It was a lie. And it burned her throat to say it. But how could she tell him the truth? That their mother was also sick, that she might need surgery too? He already had enough to carry.

Luna gently stroked his hair, humming a lullaby from when they were younger—soft, calming, and full of memory.

Her phone vibrated in her bag, again and again, but she didn't hear it. Not over the sound of her racing heart. Not while Louis needed her.

But when she finally checked the screen, her stomach dropped.

Six missed calls.

All from Amalia.

She answered with a sigh, already bracing herself.

"Where are you?" Amalia's voice came sharp and urgent. "You didn't tell anyone you were leaving the house. Do you know what kind of risk that is?"

"I'm sorry," Luna said quietly. "I just needed to see my brother."

"You can't go anywhere without telling us, Luna," Amalia snapped. "What if something happened to you? You're not just anyone anymore—you're carrying a life. Our life."

Luna closed her eyes. She was still herself. Still a sister. Still a daughter.

"Samuel will come to pick you up," Amalia continued. "You're going straight to the hospital for your own check-up. Be ready."

The line went dead before Luna could reply. She turned back to Louis, who had drifted back to sleep, a faint smile still on his lips.

Luna placed a soft kiss on his forehead. Then, with one last look, she turned and walked back out into the hallway—toward the life she'd borrowed, and the promises she had no choice but to keep.