Clarissa ordered some light porridge and soup for her mother, making sure to feed her the medicine as well.

  After Clementine took her medicine, she quickly fell into a drowsy sleep. Clarissa stayed beside her, taking care of her and making sure the nurse looked after her properly.

  Clarissa had planned to go home and grab some fresh clothes for her mother, along with buying some supplements for her. But as she was leaving, she unexpectedly bumped into Atticus.

  He was rushing down the street, and in his hurry, he collided with Clarissa.

  Clarissa lost her balance for a moment, but luckily, a passerby stepped in and steadied her.

  “Clarissa, are you okay?” the woman asked, concern in her voice. Then she turned to Atticus. “You’re such a rude kid. You didn’t even apologize for knocking her over.”

  Atticus froze for a second, his hand raised awkwardly in mid-air. He looked at Clarissa for a moment, and seeing that she was alright, he quickly pulled his hand back. “Sorry,” he muttered, before turning and running off.

  “Oh, that boy’s just so unlucky,” the woman muttered as she glanced at him, shaking her head.

  Clarissa, feeling a little awkward, smiled at the woman. “It’s fine. He probably had something important to do.”

  The woman raised an eyebrow. “What important thing could a kid like that have to do? He’s probably off doing something illegal.”

  Clarissa paused. “Why would you say that?”

  The woman leaned in, lowering her voice. “I saw a fancy car pull up to his house yesterday. A rich guy went inside. People are saying he’s getting close to Atticus. Who knows how a kid like him can afford to pay for his mother’s funeral?”

  Clarissa went silent for a moment, letting the words sink in. But then, she shook her head. “I think it’s better not to spread rumors.”

  The woman leaned closer, whispering in Clarissa’s ear, “How can it not be true? People saw it all. They’re saying Atticus... he’s going to sell his ass.”

  “Auntie, you can’t just say things carelessly. This kind of talk can destroy a person’s reputation,” Clarissa said, her expression darkening.

  The older woman shrugged, waving it off. “I know, Clarissa. You’ve got that nice education, all proper and clean. You haven’t seen how some people live. When you’re broke and desperate, you'll do anything to survive.”

  With a heavy sigh, the woman shook her head and walked off.

  Clarissa stood there for a moment, biting back a retort. Her mood, once lighter, now felt burdened with the weight of the gossip. She walked back inside, the sense of unease settling into her chest.

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  ......

  Later that evening, Clarissa was in the kitchen, preparing meals and making supplements for Clementine. The stew needed to simmer for hours, and the clock was already past ten. She could hear the storm outside as the wind howled and thunder cracked through the air.

  The rain intensified, slamming against the windows, filling the room with a deafening sound. Clarissa set down what she was doing and headed to the balcony to bring in her clothes drying on the line. Just as she was about to close the window, she noticed a figure stumbling through the downpour, walking slowly toward her building.

  Then, the person tripped and fell hard under the streetlight, splashing water everywhere.

  It was Atticus.

  Clarissa hesitated for a moment, but her instincts kicked in. She grabbed the umbrella off the wall and rushed out into the rain.

  The rain came down in sheets, and the wind nearly knocked her off her feet as she sprinted across the street in her slippers, her skirt soaked in seconds. She reached the streetlight, her heart pounding, and saw Atticus lying there, motionless.

  “Atticus! Atticus!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the storm.

  She knelt beside him, turning him over gently. His face was flushed, his breathing shallow and quick. When she touched his skin, it was burning hot.

  Panic surged through her. Without thinking, she scooped him up, holding him close, and rushed back to her apartment as fast as she could.

  Inside, Clarissa laid Atticus down on the couch, his fever raging. His eyes were glazed over, and he seemed barely aware of his surroundings. She frantically searched the apartment, but there was no fever medication to be found.

  With no time to waste, she grabbed her purse and rushed downstairs.

  As she passed the reception area, she saw the security guard sitting behind the desk. She hurried over to him, quickly stuffing some money into his hand.

  “Uncle, please, I need your help.”

  The security guard raised an eyebrow but took the money. Clarissa quickly explained the situation, asking him to help change Atticus’ clothes and get him cleaned up while she ran out to buy the medicine.

  After what felt like an eternity, Clarissa finally returned with the fever medication and a few supplies. She found the security guard had done what she asked, and Atticus was lying under a blanket, his face pale but a little less flushed. She got to work right away, wiping his body down with alcohol-soaked towels and changing the cold compress on his forehead.

  The security guard, watching from the corner, couldn't help but comment, "I had a feeling something was wrong when I saw him this morning. Didn’t expect it to be this bad. If you hadn't noticed, we might have had to send him to the hospital tomorrow."

  “Thank you, Uncle. I’m so sorry for pulling you away from your work,” Clarissa said, her voice thick with gratitude.

  The man waved her off. “No problem. A kid's life comes first. This boy... he’s been through a lot. Take care of him.”

  He set the money back on the table. "You keep it. I can’t take it. Just make sure he’s alright. I’ll be on my shift."

  With that, he grabbed his hat and left without waiting for further thanks.

  Clarissa stayed by Atticus’ side, tirelessly caring for him. She couldn’t rest until his fever finally started to break. Sweat beaded on her forehead from the exhaustion of running back and forth, but she didn’t care. Her focus was on Atticus.

  Hours passed, and he still hadn’t woken up. His breath was shallow, and his lips parted slightly as if he were mumbling something, though the words were too soft for her to hear.

  Clarissa finally stood up to check on the porridge cooking in the kitchen. But just as she moved to leave, Atticus’ hand shot out and grabbed hers.

  “Don’t go...” he whispered in his sleep, his voice hoarse.

  Clarissa froze, surprised by his strength, and before she could react, he tugged her back down onto the bed, his grip tightening.

  In that moment, she heard clearly what he was saying, and her heart tightened.

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