Chapter 112 SURVIVAL
ARYA’S POV
He paused for a moment before responding. “I'll find it. Is thirty minutes too long for you to wait?"
I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. "Okay."
"Arya?" His voice softened. "I'm so glad you called. I've been so worried."
I hung up before I could respond, my heart racing.
What was I doing? What if this was a mistake?
No. I couldn't spiral. I needed help, and Marco had offered it before. Maybe he could get me a job, or loan me enough money to make rent until I found something stable.
The café was small and quiet, tucked away from the main streets. I ordered a tea I couldn't really afford and sat in the back corner, watching the door.
Marco arrived exactly thirty minutes later. I almost didn't recognize him.
The last time I'd seen him, he looked slightly disheveled. Now he looked... refined.
His suit was expertly tailored, his hair styled perfectly, his shoes probably worth more than everything I owned.
He looked like money. Like someone who belonged in my father's world and always had.
His eyes scanned the café until they found me, and his face transformed into something that looked almost like pain.
Before I could even open my mouth to greet him, he was there, pulling me up and into a crushing embrace.
"I missed you so much," he said into my hair, his voice was rough with emotion. "God, Arya, I thought I would never see you again and I didn't know if you were alive or-"
I stood stiffly in his arms, unsure how to respond. This felt wrong somehow.
But he was warm and the first friendly touch I had in weeks that wasn't Cherry's casual affection.
Slowly, awkwardly, I hugged him back.
"I missed you too," I said, though it felt like a lie. I'd been too busy surviving to miss anyone.
He pulled back, his hands on my shoulders, studying my face with an intensity that made me uncomfortable.
"You look..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Thin. Are you eating enough? Where are you staying?"
"I'm fine," I said automatically.
"You're not fine." He guided me back to my seat and took the chair across from me, never quite letting go of my hand. "Tell me everything. What happened after you left him? How did you get away?"
Too many questions. All of them led to answers I couldn't give.
"It's complicated," I said, pulling my hand free to wrap both around my tea cup. "I just... I needed to get out and I can't go back to my father. You know what he's like."
He bobbed his head but he didn’t say anything.
"He's worried about his reputation," I corrected. "There's a difference."
Marco's expression flickered with something I couldn't read. "You're not wrong. But Arya, you can't be living like this. Let me help you."
"I just need work," I said quickly. "A job. Something to get me back on my feet. Do you know anyone who's hiring? I've tried everywhere but-“
"No." He cut me off, shaking his head. "No, you're not working. Not like this."
I blinked. "What?"
"I'm going to take care of you." His hand reached across the table again, covering mine. "That's why you called me, isn't it? Because you need help. So let me help properly."
I blinked again, shaking my head slowly. "Marco, I can't just accept—"
"Why not?" His voice was almost pleading. "Arya, you've been through hell. I can see it in your eyes. Let me take care of you while you figure out what you want to do next."
My chest squeezed uncomfortably. "I don't understand. What do you even do? How can you-“
"Don't worry about that." He squeezed my hand. "I have resources. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you're safe and taken care of."
Something about his evasiveness made me uneasy. "Marco, if this is illegal-"
"It's not." His voice was firm. "I promise you, everything I do is legitimate. I just... I'd rather not get into the details right now. This is about you, not me."
I wanted to argue but the truth was, I was drowning. And Marco was offering me a life raft, even if I didn't fully understand where it came from.
"I can't take charity," I said quietly.
"It's not charity. It's..." He paused, seeming to search for the right words. "It's me making up for not protecting you better. For not being there when you needed someone. Please, Arya. Let me do this."
The sincerity in his voice was almost painful to hear.
I thought about Mrs. Marta’s deadline and how few options I really had.
"Okay," I whispered. "Thank you."
His smile was brilliant. "Thank you for trusting me. I'm going to get you somewhere safe. Somewhere you can rest and not worry about rent or food or any of it."
He pulled out his wallet and set several bills on the table, it was more than I had seen in weeks.
"For now," he said. "To get you through until I can arrange something better. Buy yourself some proper meals and maybe some warmer clothes, it's getting cold.”
My throat tightened. "Marco, this is too much—"
"It's not enough." He stood, and I stood with him. "I'll call you tomorrow with details. But Arya? You don't have to struggle anymore. I've got you."
He pulled me into another hug, and this time I let myself relax into it a little more. Whatever complications might come from this, Marco was offering me a lifeline.
And I was desperate enough to take it.
After he left, I sat back down, staring at the money on the table. I had made a choice. Maybe not the right one, but a choice nonetheless.
My hand moved to my stomach.
"We're going to be okay," I whispered. "I'm going to make sure of it."
Even if it meant accepting help from someone whose intentions I didn't fully understand.
It was survival first and everything else second.
That was the only rule that mattered now.