"Rosie, remember this—if we are strong enough, no one can touch us. The moment we let others dictate our emotions, we're asking for trouble.
“What's it to them that I'm home? I have no obligation to be the savior. Why should I save someone who doesn't have the will to live?"
The world outside, Rosie soon learned, was far more complicated than her brother and Stella had described. It took her several tries to wrap her head around it, but eventually, it clicked.
Even though they let Rosie take her shifts, they were never truly at ease, always inquiring about the happenings outside and how she managed them.
Rosie was just a young girl, barely five, when she started fending for herself at her uncle's place. Living under someone else's roof, she learned to endure in silence, to face everything with a smile or hidden tears—she knew the consequences of being found out.
Over time, Stella gently guided her—Rosie would open up to her brother and Stella, but rarely showed her true feelings to outsiders.
So, even when people gossiped about Stella, Rosie didn't rush to her defense. Instead, she took mental notes, afraid of acting on impulse and regretting it later. Her brother had warned her: some mistakes, even just once, could cost you your life.
She had to figure out many things on her own.
Stella stopped her shifts to focus on training and managing Arcadia, devoting nearly all her time to medical books.
In the neighborhood, some rejoiced with newfound treasures while others mourned their losses. The endless night only amplified the gap between the rich and the poor. There were those who chose to end it all, some by slitting their wrists, others by overdosing on expired sleeping pills.
Shared sorrow, shared joy—but never the same.
A month drifted by as Stella immersed herself in the ocean of knowledge. One evening, feeling affectionate, she reached out to Jasper only to be gently rebuffed.
Initially baffled, she soon got it. The shadow of Molly's tragic labor hung over them both, a reminder that even with condoms, one wasn't wholly protected from the storm.
With a soft laugh, Stella turned off the bedside lamp. "Let's sleep," she said, and Jasper pulled her close, planting a tender kiss on her forehead.
The next morning, after breakfast, as Stella was about to dive back into her medical books, the intercom buzzed. Someone had come looking for her. It was Katie.
Stella pondered for a moment—if the child was well, today marked a full month since birth.
The Moore family, mother and daughter-in-law, had come bearing ten pounds of rice as a token of gratitude for Stella's medical help.
"Katie, how's the baby doing?" Stella didn’t take the rice, her concern genuine.
Katie's usual optimism had faded, and she seemed aged by grief, but she managed a small smile for Stella. "The child's doing well."
The child had seemed frail, but after a month of careful nurturing, he was looking more robust, his eyes lively and alert.
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