sat in the kitchen for a few minutes to rest my aching feet.
Richard appeared with a cup of tea and placed it in front of me.
“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” I said.
“Then consider this my rebellion.”
Over time, I stopped thinking of him as a wealthy man taking pity on me.
He became simply Richard—gentle, lonely, and unexpectedly kind.
Then one day, my phone rang.
I stepped into the pantry to answer.
It was my landlord.
“I’ve given you enough time.”
“Please,” I whispered
