Evelyn’s face contorted with rage as her father’s vicious slap landed on Grace’s face.

“What are you talking about!” he screamed. “You drove a car into someone, were jailed for it, and shamed our entire family. You have no future! Do you want to ruin your sister’s, too?” His eyes were filled with disgust.

“The only thing you did right was dating Sean Stevens, and then you threw it all away. We gained so much respect from businessmen and relatives through that connection…”

Grace nodded, understanding her father, Tony Cummins, was embarrassed. Her relationship with Sean had elevated his social standing. When she fell, so did he, and he resented her for it.

Her face burned; she knew she'd have a bruise. But her expression remained calm, as if she didn't care.

“I only wanted to pray for my mother—that’s why you invited me home, wasn’t it?—But there’s no need. I won’t set foot in this house again.”

Grace walked out without looking back. This place had never truly been her home, and she should have stopped hoping long ago.

At her apartment, it was dark. She flipped on the lights, greeted by cold silence. No one else was there.

Was Jason gone? A sudden emptiness filled her heart. Silly, she knew; he was a stranger. He’d helped her, but owed her nothing. She was foolish to think he’d stay.

Grace laughed bitterly. Alone. Again. A painful ache settled in her chest, acknowledging that even out of prison, she felt constricted, destined for a solitary existence.

Just as she was about to close the door, she saw a figure approaching. Stunned, she recognized Jason.

He still wore yesterday’s worn clothes, carrying a bag. His long hair nearly obscured his face, but she knew the handsome features beneath. Without the clothes, she would have thought him an actor, like her sister’s colleagues. Such a man… homeless? Drugs? Mental illness? Violence? Taking him in was impulsive and dangerous, but she couldn't stop herself. Perhaps humans were tribal; they needed company.

“I’m back,” his voice was low and indifferent, yet to her, the sweetest sound.

Her throat tightened. “I… I thought you wouldn’t come back.”

He stared. “I went out to buy something.”

Quickly, she pulled him inside and closed the door. Inside the bag were two steamed buns.

She smiled gently, feeling relaxed. Sad, wasn’t it? Her family abandoned her, but a homeless stranger offered companionship.

“We’ll eat, but first, I… wanted to light a candle for my grandfather and mother. Today’s the anniversary of their deaths…”

Fate was cruel; her beloved grandfather and mother died days apart.

Jason’s dark eyes followed her as she took a prayer candle and a framed photo from her bag. The black-and-white photo showed a kind-looking man, about sixty, his eyes crinkling in a smile.

Grace lit the candles, focusing her thoughts. She kissed the photograph gently.

“Grandpa, I’ve started a new life. I have a good job. You can rest in peace. I will only live better and better…”

Jason watched, a smile playing on his lips as her almond-shaped eyes misted. The candlelight and lamplight danced across her face, highlighting her arched eyebrows, small nose, and pink lips. She wasn't unattractive, but he’d seen more beautiful women. Jennifer Atkinson, his fiancée, had been strikingly beautiful. Grace's looks were ordinary to him.

He knew today was the anniversary of her grandfather's death. He understood her need to acknowledge it, but “doing well,” fresh out of prison and working sanitation, was a stretch.

“Also, Grandpa, there’s someone staying with me,” she said softly, turning to Jason, smiling. In the candlelight, she seemed to glow. Her presence brought him joy. She returned to the photo. “So, I’m doing really well, Grandpa. You can rest in peace.”

She bowed respectfully, closed her eyes, and whispered a prayer. After several minutes, she opened her eyes. “Alright, I’ll make soup. Let’s have dinner.”

“Sure,” he replied.

He offered to help, but she told him to sit. He washed his hands, set the table, and watched her move gracefully around the kitchen. Though silent, her movements had a rhythmic grace.

The soup and egg frittata smelled delicious. She thanked him profusely for the buns, formally placing them on dishes. His lips twitched; she'd given him the money; he should be thanking her.

They ate quietly. After a few minutes, she asked, “Jay, what kind of work did you do?”

“All sorts,” he said vaguely. “Work when I could find it; rest when I couldn’t.”

“Rest? I hope you had comfortable places to rest.” He assumed she was thinking of finding him on the streets.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“We’re the same age!” she exclaimed. “What month?”

“November.”

“July for me. I’m a few months older.” Grace took a bite of food. “You don’t have family, and neither do I. Why don’t you treat me as your sister? I’ll be your younger brother.”

“Sister?” He smiled. No one had ever dared to be his family. Would she still say that if she knew who he was? It was precisely her ignorance that intrigued him.

“Can’t you?” Her eyes darkened.

“You look sad,” he said. “This was your idea, adopting me.”

Her lips twitched. She gazed at the candle. “When my mother died, I was three. I don’t remember much, but I know she loved me.”

He strained to recall his own childhood. For a grieving child, trauma likely overshadowed good memories.

“How did she die?”

“Miscarriage. The baby was six months along.” She glanced at him. “My brother. He lived ten minutes. It would have been wonderful, having him.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I like to think they’re together.”

He grunted. A brother.

“Are you sure you want to be my sister?” he asked.

She nodded.

“But I have no home or job. I can’t even support myself. Why?”