“Damn it, Selene! Can’t you be selfless for once in your life?”

The apartment rattled with Jasper’s voice. His boyish face, once a weapon of charm, twisted now with rage. Fists tight. Chest heaving like a man trying to choke back a hurricane.

Selene didn’t move. She stood at the sink, hands in cold, soapy water, scrubbing the same plate she’d been holding for five minutes. Her silence was gasoline on his fire.

“Do you even hear me?” Jasper stomped closer, boots pounding the cracked linoleum. “All you care about are your precious grades, your perfect little dreams of university. You act like I don’t even exist—like I’m not your brother!”

Selene set the plate down hard enough to clatter. Turned slowly. Her face was calm—too calm. The hollowness in her grey eyes burned more than if she’d screamed.

“My stupid grades?” Her voice was cool, sharp. “You’re twenty-three, Jasper. Twenty-three, and you still don’t know what you’re doing with your life. Hanging out with dealers, gamblers. And now you want to lecture me?”

His jaw flexed. “They’re my friends. They look out for me.”

“They’re leeches.” Her voice cracked like a whip. “Every debt, every knock at the door—I’m the one paying for it. Not them. Me.”

“I didn’t ask you to!” he yelled, voice breaking.

“No,” she hissed, stabbing a finger at his chest. “You never ask. You just expect. Always. You want me to throw away my future—like I haven’t already given ten years for you?”

The silence that followed was thick, choking.

Then Jasper, quieter, bitter, muttered: “You keep pretending we’re okay. Why can’t you stop lying to yourself? Why can’t you do something that matters? Help me find them. Help me find our parents.”

Her body froze. His words detonated inside her. Then her hand lashed across his face, the slap echoing like a gunshot.

He staggered, wide-eyed.

“If they loved us,” Selene roared, her voice raw with years of buried rage, “they wouldn’t have left us to rot! They wouldn’t have vanished and left a twelve-year-old to figure out rent, food, heat!”

Tears cut down her cheeks. She stumbled back onto the couch, the same one she used to sleep on when Jasper stole her bed during his nightmares.

“I was twelve,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Forging Mom’s signature just to keep a roof over our heads while other kids were worrying about homework.”

Jasper towered over her, tall but small, his lip trembling. His mouth opened, closed, then—

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Selene scoffed, swiping her sleeve across her face. “Damn right, you’re sorry.”

Her hands tangled in her hair, pulling hard just to breathe. “I’ve been sorry since the day they disappeared. Sorry I wasn’t older. Stronger. Smarter. Sorry you had to grow up in this mess. Sorry I ever thought I could fix it.”

Jasper sank awkwardly to his knees, resting his forehead on her legs like a boy seeking forgiveness. “I didn’t know. I didn’t think I was hurting you this much.”

Her chest rose, fell. She touched his hand gently. “I don’t need perfect. Just promise me one thing.”

He looked up, glassy-eyed. “What?”

“Drop them. The dealers, the gamblers. Walk away. Build something real. For you. For us.”

Her eyes were knives, daring him to argue. He swallowed, then nodded. “Okay. I promise. I’ll clean up. I’ll get a job. One day you won’t worry about bills again. I swear it.”

A tired smile ghosted across her lips. Almost real. Almost peace.

Until Jasper spoke again.

“There’s… something else.” His voice cracked. “I… I took a loan.”

Selene stiffened. “What kind of loan?”

“Not street-level guys. Bigger. Real players. Underground.”

Her blood iced. “How much?”

He looked away. “Twenty thousand.”

Her chest caved. “Twenty… thousand?” Her hands clenched white against the couch. “Why, Jasper? Why?”

“I tried to invest. Crypto. I thought I could double it. Pay tuition. Pay rent. Get us out. But… it was a scam. It’s gone.”

Selene shot to her feet, fury exploding. “You put our lives on the line—for a scam? Do you know what they’ll do when you don’t pay?”

“I thought I could fix it!” he shouted. “For us!”

“You idiot!” Her scream cracked. “You sold our future for nothing!”

She dropped back onto the couch, numb. “When are they coming?”

Jasper hesitated. “Two days.”

Her voice broke. “Two days… two fucking days.” She rose, pacing the room like a caged animal. “When did you take it?”

“Three weeks ago,” he mumbled.

Selene froze. Her heart slammed against her ribs. “When did you find out they’d come collect?”

“…Last week.”

Her mouth fell open. She stared. Then laughed. Not light. Not sane. Bitter. Hollow. The sound raised goosebumps on his arms.

CRASH.

She hurled a plate at the wall, shards exploding across the floor. Jasper ducked, wide-eyed.

“Selene, wait—”

“Wait?!” She grabbed another dish. “You knew for a week?!”

“Selene, I’m sorry!”

She launched the plate. It missed his head by inches, shattering behind him. She was a storm now, tearing through the apartment, hurling cushions, shoes, whatever her hands could reach.

“You goddamn useless parasite!” she screamed. “A curse in skin! Do you even get it? You’ve killed us!”

“Stop!” Jasper scrambled over the couch, knocking over a lamp.

“You think twenty thousand just shows up?!” she shrieked.

“I tried!” he yelled, breathless, cornered. “I called everyone! They bailed! They ghosted me!”

Her hands dropped to her sides, twitching from adrenaline. Her breath sawed in and out. Then her knees buckled, and she crashed to the floor.

“Where the fuck do I get twenty thousand, Jasper? We can’t even pay five hundred rent. Do you think the rent fairy’s coming?”

Silence. Just his ragged breathing.

Finally, he whispered, “I trust you.”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“I trust you,” he said louder, desperate. “You always fix things. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

And then he bolted—out the door, out of reach—like the coward he was.

Selene didn’t scream. Didn’t chase. She sat there, blank, staring at the door swinging in the draft. Her chest burned cold. She staggered into the kitchen, grabbed another plate, and slammed it to the ground, her cry ripping out of her throat like broken glass.

She sank into the wreckage, surrounded by shards and silence.

Minutes bled by. Only her breathing filled the room. She was just pushing herself up, wiping her face with her sleeve—

BANG!

The door flew open.

“Jasper,” she growled, voice hoarse. “If you walked out just to—”

“Selene!”

Not Jasper.

The voice was gravel, soaked in venom.

She froze. Slowly peered around the corner.

A man filled the doorway. Balding, a cigarette clamped between yellow teeth, a mustard-stained tank top stretched across his gut. His eyes, beady and mean, locked on her.

“Selene,” he said again, louder this time. “Where’s my fucking rent?”