— Thank you, Mike. You don’t have to do that. You’re a guest.
He looked at her openly, the old despair gone from his eyes.
— It’s important to me. I can’t just sit around when this house has given us so much warmth. When you gave us this chance…
— You earned it, — Eleanor replied softly.
Later, she settled into a deep armchair next to Luna. The cat, sensing her presence, gave a short, welcoming “meow” and nudged the tiny, silvery kitten toward Eleanor’s hand. Eleanor gently picked him up. The tiny creature trembled and then immediately grew still, burying its wet nose in her palm. She stroked his soft back, and that feeling stirred inside her again. It wasn’t physical pain—the disease had temporarily receded, allowing her to enjoy this pause. It was a deep, lingering awareness of how much she had missed.
Something gnawed at her—the contrast between this new, blossoming life around her and the darkness that was slowly but surely growing in her head. She watched Alice run by with a saucer of milk, watched Mike, who was finally starting to stand up straight, watched Luna, protecting her offspring.
“I only got all this when my time was almost up,” Eleanor thought. It was unbearably sad that she hadn’t met these people and this animal sooner. That she had wasted decades on cold walls and numbers, missing the chance to simply be happy.
She held the kitten closer to her chest, feeling its tiny heartbeat. It beat as fast as her own did when she saw the silent gratitude in Mike’s eyes. She knew she had to do everything she could to make sure this happiness didn’t end with her.
The idyll of the warm house shattered every morning against the harsh reality beyond its threshold. Mike left early, when the city was just beginning to drown in the gray pre-dawn haze, and returned after dark. His shoulders slumped lower with each passing day, and his gaze grew more vacant. Without ID, he was a ghost. A shadow on construction sites where they promised to pay at the end of the shift, only to show him the gate, knowing he wouldn’t go to the police. A target for security guards in supermarkets who eyed his worn jacket with suspicion. A dead end for HR managers who closed their folders the moment he mentioned a stolen wallet.
One such evening, Mike walked into the foyer, barely able to lift his feet. The snow in his hair didn’t melt—it looked like gray that had suddenly appeared from sheer helplessness.
Alice was sitting on the living room floor, playing with the silver kitten. Seeing her father, she jumped up, then froze. A child who had seen too much sorrow could read pain flawlessly.
— Daddy, you didn’t find a job again? — she asked quietly.
Mike tried to smile, but it came out as a pained grimace. He knelt and pulled his daughter close.
— It’s okay, sweetie. Tomorrow will be better. Just a bad day today.
Luna, sensing her owner’s state, came over and gently nudged his knee with her head, letting out a sympathetic purr. Mike buried his face in his hands. His fingers were trembling.
Eleanor watched the scene from the end of the hall. A burning sensation filled her chest, and it wasn’t the disease. It was outrage at the injustice of a world that she herself had once helped build.
— Mike, come to my office, — Eleanor’s voice was firm.
The man stood up, wiping his face. A minute later, he was standing before her massive desk, feeling like a schoolboy in the principal’s office.
— I know everything, Mike, — Eleanor got straight to the point. — My lawyers are already working on your documents. You’ll need to go to the DMV tomorrow morning; they’ll be expecting you. All the requests have been sent to your hometown; the identity verification will be expedited.
Mike looked up, his eyes a mixture of shock and pride.
— Why? You’ve already given us a roof over our heads. I didn’t ask you to pay for lawyers.
— Be quiet, — Eleanor held up a hand. — Second thing. A position has opened up in my construction division for an assistant site supervisor on a new project. I need someone who understands construction and whom I can trust. You start Monday.
Mike turned pale. He clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.
— Ms. Vance, I can’t. This is too much. I don’t want to be your personal charity case. I’m not a burden. I’m not some stray dog you picked up and are now spoon-feeding.
Eleanor slowly rose from her desk. She walked right up to him. Her face was pale, but her eyes burned with the same fire that had once helped her build an empire.
— Look at me, Mike.
He reluctantly raised his gaze….
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