ALERA

My father looks at me like he already knows something is wrong.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asks weakly.

He stretches out his hand, and I take it gently, trying to mask the guilt clawing at my chest.

I close my eyes. Then force a smile.

This is for him. All of it.

If he’s alive and safe, I don’t care what I have to lie about.

“I… I got a job,” I say.

He blinks once, then slowly starts to smile. “A job?”

He ...