"Finished?"
Lunessa wiped the food stains from the corner of Laura's lips, her movements were careful. "Ah… it feels like just yesterday you were two years old."
She leaned in and hugged her again.
"Nessa," Laura protested weakly, though there was a smile tugging at her lips. "You should reduce the hug count for now. I'm already eighteen."
"Eighteen years old…" Lunessa echoed playfully, deliberately exaggerating the words. She pinched Laura's cheek gently. "Yeah, yeah. My baby sister is all grown up now and doesn't need my hugs anymore."
Laura laughed, the sound soft but real. "I didn't say that."
Lunessa snorted. "You didn't have to."
She rested her forehead lightly against Laura's for a moment, just breathing her in—calm, warm, here.
Eighteen years old.
To Lunessa, it didn't matter.
Laura would always be the little girl who held her finger while learning to walk, the quiet source of happiness she had built her life around.
"I'll leave for now and come again—"
"Tomorrow?" Laura's eyes brightened at once. "You'll come again tomorrow, right?"
Lunessa smiled, even though she tried her best to make it look effortless.
"Of course," she said softly.
But as the word left her mouth, another voice surfaced in her mind.
'I'll handle your sister's treatment and everything. Just make sure that every time you want to visit her, you get my permission first.'
Lunessa's smile wavered for just a second before she steadied it.
"Yes," she repeated gently to Laura. "I'll come again." She paused, then added softly, "But if I don't… Don't wait, okay? I might have urgent work I need to take care of."
Laura frowned faintly. "What kind of work?"
Lunessa reached out and caressed her hair, her touch slow and soothing.
"Adult work," she said lightly, forcing a small smile. "Boring stuff."
Laura hummed, a little sad, but she didn't say anything more.
What else could she say?
Lunessa was already doing everything for her. Running around, worrying, finding money, always putting Laura first. If only she were healthy, she thought. If only she didn't have to be the reason her sister carried so much on her shoulders.
"Don't work too hard," Laura murmured at last.
Lunessa paused at the door and turned back.
"I won't," she lied gently.
She walked back just long enough to press a kiss to Laura's forehead, light and careful.
"Rest," she said softly. "I'll see you soon."
Laura nodded, clutching the blanket a little tighter as Lunessa left the room.
The door closed quietly behind her.
And as Lunessa stepped back into the corridor, the warmth she'd been holding onto slowly faded, replaced by the familiar weight of responsibility she never quite managed to put down.
She lifted her gaze, eyes drawn down the long stretch of hallway.
At the far end of it stood a familiar figure.
Julian.
Her steps slowed instinctively.
'Is he waiting for me?'
She couldn't tell. He wasn't looking her way, posture relaxed, a man standing quietly by his side, probably his assistant.
Her heart skipped for a reason she refused to name.
As she walked closer, Julian shifted slightly, turning his head.
And without thinking, Lunessa stepped back.
She ducked behind a corner, pressing herself against the wall, breath held.
The move was ridiculous. She knew that.
She hadn't done anything wrong.
Yet there she was, hiding like a child caught sneaking out late.
"Did you find the old lady?"
Julian's voice carried down the corridor, calm but edged with impatience.
Lunessa froze.
"I'm still following up on the leads, Mr. Hale," the man beside him replied carefully. "There are several possibilities, but—"
"How long has it been?" Julian asked, eyes fixed on the window at the end of the hallway.
"A year."
A brief silence followed.
"A year," Julian repeated, his tone flat. "And you still need time to locate one person."
The assistant stiffened.
"If this is the best you can do," Julian continued evenly, "then resign. I don't pay people to fail slowly."
"Yes, Mr. Hale," the assistant said quickly.
"Leave," Julian said without turning.
Footsteps retreated.
Lunessa pressed her back harder against the wall, heart pounding. Just a few days with him had been enough for her to understand how terrifying he could be when he wanted to be.
"Done eavesdropping?"
The whisper came right beside her ear.
She flinched violently, stumbling sideways as she sucked in a sharp breath.
Blinking rapidly, she found herself staring straight at Julian.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she cursed silently, 'Damn it… does he have eyes on the back of his head?'
Julian stood there calmly, as if he hadn't just materialized out of nowhere. His expression was unreadable, eyes dark and steady, observing her reaction with faint curiosity.
"I—" Lunessa swallowed. "I wasn't eavesdropping."
"No?" he asked quietly.
His gaze flicked to the corner she'd been hiding behind. Then back to her face.
"Then what were you doing?" Julian asked.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. Any excuse sounded weak in her own head.
"Oh—uh…" Lunessa hesitated, then blurted, "I was slamming a mosquito on the wall earlier. You know… just in case it was a bad mosquito."
The words hung there.
Julian stared at her.
Silently.
For a full second longer than necessary.
"All mosquitoes are bad," he repeated.
Lunessa blinked hard, then lifted a finger without thinking. "Wrong. You're wrong this time, Mr. Hale… there are good mosquitoes."
He frowned, clearly not expecting that.
She hesitated for half a beat, then forged ahead, committed now. "Male mosquitoes don't bite people," she said earnestly. "They only feed on nectar. It's the female ones that bite and spread diseases."
She glanced at the wall beside her, as if a phantom mosquito might still be there.
"So," she concluded, nodding to herself, "technically speaking, not all mosquitoes are bad."
Silence.
Julian looked at her like she had just rewritten the rules in the middle of a board meeting, calm on the surface, but clearly reassessing the entire situation.
"So," he said slowly, voice dangerously even, "you're saying the male ones don't bite… and the female ones do?"
By his tone alone, Lunessa knew he didn't mean it literally.
And in that exact moment, she realized, 'Oh. I've fucked up.'
Her spine stiffened. "I—I meant biologically," she said quickly. "Scientifically. Not—"
Julian took a step closer.
"Interesting," he murmured, his voice dropping slightly. "I never knew you were this knowledgeable."
Then, with a faint tilt of his head, he added, "So the ones that take… are the females."
Her mouth opened. Then closed.
This was no longer about mosquitoes.