Hours bled into morning. The pale light of day gradually filled Halle's small room, chasing away the long shadows of the night. Her eyelids fluttered open, heavy with sleep, and the memories of the previous evening crashed over her like a cold wave: the blood, the quiet drive, the makeshift surgery in her tiny space. Her eyes snapped to the worn couch where the wounded stranger had laid.
It was empty.
A sigh left her lips, half relief, half disappointment. The selfish part of her was glad—the part that dreaded legal troubles sighed with relief . But another part, the quiet one that often whispered in her solitude, wondered who he was... and whether he was truly alright.
She pushed herself upright on her bed, her gaze sweeping the room and that's when her eyes landed on something unexpected on her bedside table– there was a small, folded note on her bedside table, nestled beside her alarm clock. And beneath it, a thick stack of banknotes. Her heart gave a sudden, hard thump and with trembling fingers, she snatched up the money and began to count. One hundred, then two, then three… A gasp escaped her lips. It was five thousand. Five thousand! Her mind reeled.
It wasn't the kind of money that casually fell into the hands of girls like her. No—this was the kind of money she dreamed of when the power threatened to go out, when she skipped meals to make rent. The kind of money people sacrificed their pride to get.
She carefully unfolded the note. The handwriting was neat, precise. Just four words: "Thanks for your help."
"You'rewelcome" she said aloud, a wide, disbelieving smile spreading across her face. Her voice was thick with emotion, a mix of pure joy and utter shock. It wasn't every day someone gave her such a life-changing amount.
Still gripping the note, she flopped back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. Was this real? She turned her head to stare at the cash again where it shimmered like something out of a dream.
As she dreamily stared at the ceiling, her phone buzzed under her pillows and cutting through her wonders, she snatched it up. It was her friend Erica and as soon as she picked it up, Erica's excited voice broke.
"Halle!" Erica's voice chirped through the speaker, full of life and excitement. "You are not gonna believe thus. Remember that cleaning job I told you about? The one in crescent theatre?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, you got it. And to top it all off, we'll get to live together." Getting silence as response, Erica continued. "Halle, are you there?"
Halle sat up straight, hope rising like a sunrise in her chest. "Wait—are you serious?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
She let out a breathless laugh, a real one. "I think the universe finally likes me."
Erica giggled. "Pack your bags, girl. Your new life starts tomorrow."
And for the first time in a long while, Halle felt real joy.
All her life had been a struggle. Halle had never known the warmth of a mother's arms or the steady voice of a father. She grew up behind the iron gates of a crumbling children's home tucked between forgotten streets—a place filled with fading paint, secondhand beds, and stories no one asked to hear. It was the kind of place where birthdays were just another day and love was more of a whispered rumor than a reality.
She still remembered cold nights when the wind slipped through broken window panes, when hunger gnawed at her belly like a second heartbeat. The staff did what they could, but there was never enough—for the food, the clothes, the care. Affection came in small doses and fleeting gestures, and even then, it never quite reached Halle. The world had made her small and silent, tough in the ways that mattered. If you didn't fight, you didn't eat. If you didn't learn to be invisible, you got broken.
At eighteen, with nothing but a paper-thin resume and a few worn clothes, she was pushed into the world and told to "figure it out." So she did. Waitressing jobs, dingy rentals, skipped meals, borrowed coats—she made it work, even when it almost broke her. Each coin she earned had been a battle. Each bill paid felt like a tiny victory in a war with no end.
And yet... today felt like a dream stitched together from threads of forgotten prayers.
Five thousand dollars.
A real job offer. She could not say that it was what she could dream of, but it was much better as compared to her past job.
She stared at the money again, half-afraid that it would vanish if she blinked too long. The note still rested beside it—brief, almost cold, but to her, it was the most generous thing anyone had ever given her.
She clutched the edge of her thin blanket, eyes burning with unshed tears.
Her chest ached with gratitude and disbelief. For the first time in years, it didn't feel like she was simply surviving. It felt like something was beginning.
Hope. Fragile, radiant hope.
Maybe, just maybe... the life she had always longed for was finally within reach.