The week felt like it was passing in a blur. It wasn't that I didn't have things to focus on—there were plenty of things to keep my hands busy. But it was hard to ignore the quiet that had settled into my life ever since Frida left.

I'd been staying with my family in Greenwich, partly to distract myself from the empty space in my own home and partly because it gave me a sense of purpose.

Sapphire was in the middle of her exam preparations, and I'd turned into her personal tutor. It wasn't that I minded. If anything, it helped to have something to focus on, to pour myself into something other than the heaviness I carried around inside.

Each evening, after my work was done, I sat beside her at the dining table, helping her study. It wasn't just about the material—it was about offering her support in a way that didn't feel overwhelming.

We worked through flashcards, practiced her essays, and reviewed key concepts. I could see the relief on her face each time a topic clicked, but I also saw how the anxiety would return when we got to something she hadn't quite grasped yet.

I reminded her to take breaks and breathe, encouraging her to believe in herself. It wasn't easy, but we were getting through it together.

In between my work, I found myself tending to the house—cooking, cleaning, and managing what I could. I helped Mama with the household expenses and made sure the insurance for their medications was set up.

The paperwork took time, but I couldn't afford to waste any. I didn't want to fall behind on anything, especially when it came to their health.

But amidst all of this, there was one thing I couldn't seem to shake from my mind: Donald. I hadn't been able to avoid the nagging thought of him, especially with the charges hanging over him like a dark cloud. I had promised him that I would be there, but everything felt like it was out of my hands.

I had met with Terry a couple of days ago. He had done his best, but there was only so much he could do. In the end, I made the decision. I needed to meet with the woman who'd been scammed.

I didn't want to. I wasn't ready to face her anger. But if there was even the slightest chance I could help, I had to try. I couldn't let Donald face this alone. I couldn't let him fall into the trap of feeling abandoned by the people who were supposed to be there for him.

So, I met with her. And as soon as I saw the pain in her eyes, I knew how deeply this had affected her. The whole thing was a mess. The people involved—including Donald—had been convinced they were part of something legitimate, and they'd trusted the wrong person. I knew Donald wasn't the mastermind behind the scam, but the damage had been done, and I wasn't sure if I could fix it. But I tried anyway.

"I'm willing to vouch for him," I told her, my voice steady even though my insides were churning. "I know my brother didn't take the money. He didn't know the full extent of the scam. Please, if you can, drop the charges. He's not the one who did this."

We stood there for what felt like an eternity. The silence was thick, but finally, her posture softened ever so slightly. She didn't say anything, but I could see the conflict in her eyes. I didn't push further, but I felt a small weight lift from my shoulders. At least I had tried.

It took another week, but I received the call I had been hoping for: the charges would be dropped, and Donald's record would be cleared. I don't think I could've handled seeing him go through the legal battle. I was relieved—more than I could put into words.

Still, I was left to carry the emotional aftermath of it all. Donald's struggles were far from over, and I would continue to be there for him, no matter what. Just as I would for Mama and Papa. I couldn't stop thinking about them all, about the delicate balance I had to maintain in my life now.

The hardest part of the week, though, was the conversation I knew had to happen.

Papa and I had been skirting around the subject for a while, but it was time we addressed it head-on. I had noticed his forgetfulness more often, his confusion creeping into conversations like an unwelcome guest.

I tried not to let it show, but it was becoming harder to ignore. The weight of his early onset Alzheimer's diagnosis loomed large, and I had to face it with him.

I sat across from him one evening, the kitchen light warm and soft as I worked up the courage. "Papa," I began quietly, "we need to talk."

He looked up from the cup of tea he'd been nursing, a small furrow between his brows. "About what, Ruby?"

"About the diagnosis," I said, my voice steady but laced with emotion. "I know we haven't talked about it yet, but I think we need to see a specialist. We need to understand how to manage it, what we can do, and if there's any medication that can help."

For a long moment, Papa didn't speak. His gaze dropped to the table, and I could see the weight of the words hanging in the air. He wasn't ready, but he knew, just like I did, that it was necessary.

"I'll go," he finally said, his voice low, "if you think it's the right thing to do."

"It is," I affirmed, reaching out to place my hand on his. "We'll go together."

The next morning, we made the appointment, and by midday, we were sitting in the office of a specialist who walked us through the various treatment options.

There were medications to slow the progression of the disease, as well as lifestyle changes that could help manage the symptoms. I took notes, absorbing everything I could. I couldn't afford to miss a detail when it came to Papa's care.

In the weeks that followed, I kept a close eye on their diet, making sure the pantry was stocked with food that would help Mama manage her blood sugar. I added more vegetables, whole grains, and lean proteins to the shopping list, and we worked together to prepare meals that were both nutritious and satisfying.

It was a delicate balance, but it was worth it to see Mama eat with a smile, knowing she could enjoy her meals without worry.

The time I spent with my family, the quiet routine of caring for them, felt like a steadying force in my life. It didn't erase the worries or the weight of what we were facing, but it gave me something to focus on.

With every small task I completed, every errand I ran, every meal I cooked, I was reminding myself that we were in this together.

And that, in itself, was something to hold onto.

The days had slipped by so quickly, and before I knew it, Sapphire had finished her exams. The moment we'd both been waiting for had arrived: it was time to see how she had done.

I drove her to school, both of us a little nervous but mostly excited. I tried to keep the mood light, telling her that no matter the outcome, she had worked hard, and that was what mattered.

Sapphire had a knack for putting me at ease, though, her quiet confidence shining through as she adjusted her backpack and led the way to the teacher's office.

The hallway felt familiar—almost comforting—and when we reached the classroom, Sapphire's teacher greeted us with a warm smile. After a quick exchange of pleasantries, she handed us the report card.

Her teacher praised her work ethic and determination, but there was one thing they made clear: she had done well, but there was room for improvement. A small pang of worry tugged at my heart, but I knew Sapphire had the potential to exceed her limits. She just needed a little more encouragement.

I smiled at her, feeling proud. "You did great, Blue." We'll try and get those grades even higher next time, okay?"

Sapphire returned my smile, though I could tell she was holding herself to a higher standard. "I'll do my best, Ruby."

Her teacher chimed in with a nod of approval. "There's definitely room for improvement, but you've shown great progress this semester, Sapphire."

I agreed, gently smoothing out her hair. "We'll keep working on it, okay? You've got this."

As a reward for all her hard work, I decided to take her to the arcade afterward.

Her face lit up the moment she stepped inside, a happy energy radiating from her as she rushed toward the games.

It wasn't just about the fun—this was about giving her a moment to unwind, to enjoy being a kid again after weeks of stress and studying.

The sounds of the arcade, the flashing lights, and the clattering of coins in machines became a backdrop to our laughter as we played together. Time flew by, but I could see the smile on Sapphire's face as she took a break from the chaos, breathing in the contentment of the moment.

At one point, while weaving through the bustling crowd to get to a claw machine she had her eye on, I bumped into someone—a man about my height with dark hair and sharp features.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I said, stepping back quickly.

"It's alright," he replied smoothly, his voice calm and polite. He flashed a faint smile before moving past me, disappearing into the crowd.

I didn't think much of it. Accidental bumps were par for the course in a busy arcade. I focused back on Sapphire, who was determined to win the stuffed cat in the claw machine.

When we got back home later, we snuck into the living room, where I retrieved the book I'd bought for Sapphire a few weeks ago.

She'd been eager to read it, but between her exams and everything else, we hadn't had time. We settled onto the couch, flipping through the pages together, the quiet of the evening wrapping around us like a soft blanket.

It was moments like this—simple, peaceful—that I wanted to remember when things got tough.

The next morning, as I sipped my coffee, Donald finally shared something that had been weighing on him. It was concerning the job offer he'd received to work for Ava's logistics company as a supervisor for the new branch in the UK. He hadn't been sure about the decision at first, but after some thought, he had accepted it.

"I just... I don't know if I've made the right choice," he confessed, sitting across from me at the kitchen table. "It feels like I'm leaving everyone behind."

I could see the uncertainty in his eyes, and though I understood his concerns, I knew this was something he needed to do for himself. "I think you made the right decision," I said, offering a supportive smile.

"You've worked hard to get here. Mama and Papa will understand. And we'll be here for you, no matter what."

Donald nodded slowly, but there was a shadow of doubt in his expression.

That night, we sat down with Mama and Papa to share the news. The atmosphere in the room was heavy with the realization that Donald would be leaving. Papa, ever the realist, took the news in stride.

"If this is what you want, son, then go. We'll always be here for you, no matter where you are."

Mama, on the other hand, wasn't as thrilled about the idea. She sat quietly at first, her fingers gently wringing the cloth she was holding.

"But Ruby just came back... it's been so long since we've all been together as a family," she said softly. "I don't want to see anyone leave again."

I could see the worry on Mama's face, and I knew this was hard for her. But I also knew that this was an opportunity for Donald, one that would help him grow and build a future for himself.

"Mama, he's not leaving forever," I said, trying to reassure her. "He gets to continue his studies and he'll be able to come home during breaks. Also, he'll be working to help support us, too. This is going to help all of us in the long run."

Sapphire, who had been quiet up until now, suddenly spoke up. She hopped up from her seat, a mischievous glint in her eye. "And we can visit him too, right?"

Mama's eyes softened at the question, and Papa gave a quiet chuckle. Sapphire's enthusiasm was contagious, and for a moment, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate.

I nodded, my smile growing. "Why not! Donnie will be able to visit when he has breaks from work and school, and we can plan trips to see him too. I mean, we've never been out of the country. This is the perfect excuse to go! It's a win-win."

Sapphire beamed, looking back and forth between Mama and Papa, her excitement filling the room.

"I finally get to pack my suitcase!" she said, practically jumping in her seat.

Mama chuckled softly, though I could see the wariness still there in her eyes. "Well, we'll see," she said, though the way her lips quirked up a little showed that, despite her concerns, she was starting to warm to the idea.

Papa, too, seemed to be processing the change. His eyes softened as he looked at Donald.

"You know, son," he said in his quiet, thoughtful way, "you have our blessing. Just make sure it's what you really want."

As the conversation continued, I couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of hope. Donald's decision, though difficult, was the right one for him. And while it would be a challenge, we would face it together, just as we always had.

The next day dawned brighter than I'd expected, sunlight spilling through the curtains as if to offer its own reassurance. 

I spent the morning running errands and tying up loose ends. By early afternoon, I found myself back at the house Frida and I shared, ready to swap my handbag for something more practical before heading out again.

The house was quiet, its familiar stillness comforting as I walked into my room. I placed my bag on the bed, intending to transfer the essentials, but as I began to unpack it, a folded piece of paper slipped out and fell to the floor.

I froze, staring at it for a moment before bending to pick it up. It wasn't mine.

The paper felt rough between my fingers, like it had been torn from a larger sheet. My chest tightened as I unfolded it, the words scrawled across the surface sending a chill down my spine:

You're being followed.

The ink was hurried, uneven, as if whoever wrote it didn't have much time. My heart thudded against my ribs as I stared at the note, trying to make sense of it.

I rifled through my thoughts, searching for when it could have ended up in my bag. The memory of the man I'd bumped into at the arcade surfaced unbidden. Could it have been him? But why?

The house suddenly felt too still, the silence pressing against my ears. I glanced around, my gaze sweeping the corners of the room, though I knew there was no one there.

Swallowing hard, I folded the note and slipped it into the drawer of my bedside table. Whatever this was, I needed to stay calm. There was no use jumping to conclusions without more information.

But a knot of unease had settled in my chest, one that I couldn't quite shake.

I hadn't realized how fast I was breathing until I reached the porch of my family's house. Each step I took felt heavier than the last, doubt gnawing at the edges of my resolve.

What if coming here had been a mistake? What if I had just led danger straight to the people I loved most?

But where else could I go? The thought of being alone right now, with no one to turn to, was unbearable.

I hurried up to my old room, my pulse pounding in my ears as I closed the door and leaned against it. My hands trembled as I pulled my phone from my pocket.

Terry.

He'd know what to do. He had to know what to do.

I scrolled to his name and hit call, pacing the small space as it rang. Each unanswered tone sent my heart deeper into a spiral.

"Come on, come on," I whispered desperately, gripping the phone so tightly it hurt.

Finally, his voice came through. "Ruby? Is everything alright?"

The relief of hearing his voice was fleeting.

Panic surged back, making my words tumble out in a frantic rush. "Terry, I need help. I don't know what to do. Someone put a note in my bag. It said I'm being followed."

"What?" His voice sharpened instantly, the confusion replaced by alarm.

"I don't know who, or how, or why, but it was in my bag, Terry!" I could hear the hysteria creeping into my voice, but I couldn't stop it. "What if it's not just me? What if they're watching my family too?"

"Ruby," he said firmly, cutting through my spiraling thoughts. "You need to calm down so I can help you. Are you safe right now?"

I glanced at the window, the curtains barely drawn, as if they offered any real protection. My stomach churned. "No," I whispered, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. "I don't feel safe at all."

"Okay. Here's what we're going to do," Terry said, his voice steady, a lifeline in the storm. "Text me the address. I'll be there as soon as I can. In the meantime, lock the doors, stay away from the windows, and don't let anyone in. Can you do that?"

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Yeah. Okay. Just... please hurry."

"I will. I promise."

The call ended, and I sent him the address with shaking hands before sinking onto the edge of the bed. My fingers gripped the sheets, my breath coming in shallow gasps as the paranoia crept deeper into my mind.

I needed to know where everyone was. Now.

My hands shook as I dialed Mama's number, the phone slipping slightly in my damp grip. It rang twice before she answered, her warm voice instantly recognizable.

"Hi, Baby! Is everything alright?"

Hearing her made me want to cry, but I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Mama, where are you?"

"We're at the farmer's market," she said, a hint of concern creeping into her tone. "Sapphire and I thought we'd pick up some fresh vegetables for dinner. Why?"

I clenched my free hand into a fist, trying to steady my voice. "I just... I just wanted to make sure you're okay. It's been a weird day, and I'd feel better if you came home soon."

There was a pause. "Ruby, is something wrong? You sound—"

"No, nothing's wrong," I interrupted quickly, my words rushed. "I just... it might rain later, and I don't want you caught in it. Papa's asleep, and it's just... it'd be nice to have everyone home."

She was quiet for a moment, and I knew she was picking up on my tension. "Alright, sweetheart. We're almost done here. We'll head back in a little while."

"Thanks, Mama," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

As the call ended, I let out a shaky breath and stood, pacing to the window. Every passing car, every movement outside sent my heart racing. I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

My phone buzzed in my hand, and I jumped, almost dropping it. Another message. This time from Terry.

'On my way. Don't panic. We'll figure this out.'

I wanted to believe him, but the dread clung to me like a shadow. I glanced back at the window and then down at my phone, pulling up Donald's number.

I couldn't just sit here waiting. I needed to hear his voice, to know he was okay. But what would I even say? How could I explain this without sounding insane?