Chapter 16: The Night That Opened Her Eyes

"Ah, I’m so tired..."

A soft sigh escaped Iris’s lips as she finally turned off the bathroom tap. Steam was still rising from her body, carrying the faint scent of cheap floral soap—the same kind she’d used since she was little. The smell always reminded her of her mom, of simpler times, when her father was still around, when everything still felt normal and nothing needed to be questioned. The warm water she’d just used to wash up was now trickling slowly down the drain, leaving her skin feeling fresh—still a little pink from the heat—but also leaving behind that familiar exhaustion that never quite went away.

Their apartment bathroom was tiny. Really tiny. Barely enough room for one person to move around without bumping into something. Like a cramped little box that gave you no space to breathe freely. The floor was made of white tiles, cracked in a few places, with dark lines running through the gaps that spoke of age and wear. The mirror on the wall was foggy around the edges from all the steam, making her reflection look blurry and unclear—kind of like her own future. The faucet had rust building up underneath, and sometimes it let out a screech when you turned it. But Iris was used to it. She was used to all their limitations, used to their simple, barely-getting-by life, used to everything never being enough and never feeling fair.

She dried herself off with a thin towel that had gone rough from too many washes. The fabric was threadbare in some spots, almost see-through. Its original white had faded to a dull gray, and some loose threads were starting to come undone along the edges. But Iris didn’t care. She was too tired to care about little things like that. She pulled on her sleepwear—a faded white long shirt and a pair of simple shorts that had gone loose from overuse. Her wavy brown hair was still wet, dripping water onto her shoulders and back, but she didn’t care about that either. It would dry on its own, like everything else in her life—it would just work itself out, without her having to think or worry about it.

Iris walked out of the bathroom and crossed their tiny living room, which held nothing but an old sofa with springs starting to poke through in a few spots, a wooden table with peeling paint that had lost its original color, and a small TV that hadn’t been turned on since they moved in—maybe because there were no channels to pick up, or maybe because nobody had time to watch it anyway. The living room floor was tiled with more cracked spots, and the walls were dull with paint that was flaking off at the corners. She passed the tiny kitchen, which only had a two-burner stove and a small fridge that was always nearly empty—just a few eggs, some butter, and maybe vegetables if her mom had managed to go shopping. Everything was simple. Everything was barely enough. Everything was never quite sufficient. But this was their home. The only home they had after her father left. The only place where they could take shelter from the cruel world outside.

She reached her room—a small space just big enough for a single bed, an old wardrobe with a crooked door, and a study desk in the corner. The walls were bare. No posters, no decorations, no photos of friends, no keychains, nothing that said this was a teenage girl’s room. No unnecessary stuff, no useless collections, nothing that could be called a happy childhood memory. Just the essentials she needed to survive: a bed with faded sheets, a wardrobe with a few worn-out clothes, a study desk with some books she’d read over and over because there was nothing else, and a small wall clock that ticked away faithfully, reminding her that time kept moving even when she didn’t want to.

Iris dropped onto her mattress with a heavy thud, her exhausted body sinking into the thin bed that had gone lumpy in places, its springs occasionally creaking when she shifted. Her eyes stared up at the cracked ceiling—cracks spreading out like a map she’d never learned to read—and she let out a long sigh. A sigh that carried all the day’s fatigue, all the worries she’d never shared with anyone, all the questions she’d never asked because she was scared of the answers, all the feelings she’d never expressed because she didn’t know how.

Today was exhausting, Iris thought. But I can’t sleep. My mind’s still too busy. Something’s off, but I don’t know what. Something’s wrong, but I can’t point to it. Something’s changed, but I can’t see it.

She closed her eyes, trying to sleep, trying to forget all the worries that kept haunting her, trying to let go of all the burdens she carried alone. But just as she was about to drift off, a growl from her stomach broke the silence of the room—too loud to ignore, reminding her that she hadn’t had dinner, reminding her that she was still alive and still needed food to keep going.

Iris sighed again, this time with a hint of frustration she didn’t bother hiding. She dragged herself off the bed lazily, her tired feet carrying her out of the room and toward the tiny kitchen in the corner. The kitchen light was still on, casting a dim yellowish glow that made everything look older than it actually was. She lifted the food cover on the table—a cloudy plastic dome—and underneath, there was just one packet of instant chicken-flavored noodles, the same one she’d seen sitting there for the past few days.

This again, Iris thought. Instant noodles again. Looks like Mom hasn’t had time to shop. Or maybe... she doesn’t have money to shop. Maybe I shouldn’t ask. Maybe I should just keep quiet.

She grabbed the noodles, tearing the wrapper open with movements that had become second nature—motions she’d done a thousand times, motions she didn’t need to think about anymore. She started cooking them on the stove, lighting the burner with a match that was nearly gone. The water boiled quickly, tiny bubbles rising to the surface like hopes that never came true. Iris poured the boiling water into a bowl, added the seasoning packets with automatic movements, then covered it with a plate to let it sit. She stood by the stove, staring at the bowl with an empty gaze, her mind drifting to places she couldn’t control, places she didn’t want to visit but kept coming back to anyway.

Why does Mom always look so tired lately? Why do we keep moving? Why does life keep getting harder every day? Why can’t I do anything to help?

She cut those questions off before they could sweep her away. She was too tired to think, too tired to worry, too tired to question things she’d never understand. She lifted the cover, steam billowing into her face, carrying that salty, savory smell she knew all too well. She grabbed a spoon and started eating hungrily—not because she enjoyed it, but because she was hungry, and hunger was something she could deal with in a simple way like this. She didn’t think about anything while she ate—she just focused on filling her stomach, focused on the salty, savory taste flowing over her tongue, focused on the warm sensation spreading from her belly through the rest of her body. Nothing special, nothing fancy, but at least she wasn’t hungry anymore.

After she finished eating, Iris washed the bowl and spoon with cold water, wiped down the table, and tidied up their little kitchen. Her hands moved automatically, without needing to think, like it had become a habit ingrained in her, like her body knew what to do even when her mind was blank. When everything was done, she let out a long breath and headed back to her room.

Her room welcomed her back with its familiar silence—the silence that had become her companion every night, the silence that never complained or asked for anything, the silence that was always there for her when no one else was. She lay down on the mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling, and felt the exhaustion sink deeper into her bones—that kind of tiredness that never really went away, even after she’d slept. Today was exhausting, she thought. But I don’t know why. I’m just... tired. Tired of everything. Tired of life. Tired of all of this.

She was just about to fall asleep when voices from outside started seeping in through their paper-thin walls—walls too thin to offer any privacy, walls too thin to protect them from the world outside, walls too thin to hold back the suffering that came knocking.

"Please, sir... give me more time..."

Iris opened her eyes. That’s Mom’s voice. Why is she talking to someone outside? Why does she sound like she’s begging? Why is there desperation in her voice?

"NO WAY! You said the SAME thing last month!"

The man’s loud voice made Iris jolt. She sat up on the mattress, eyes wide, heart pounding faster. Who’s that? Why is he yelling? Why is Mom—

"I promise, sir... I’ll pay everything off..."

"PROMISE?!" The man’s voice exploded again, louder than before, angrier than before. "You SAID promise last month! And the month before that! And the month BEFORE that! I’m SO SICK of your excuses! SO SICK!"

Hearing those words, Iris felt like her heart was being squeezed by an invisible hand. Her chest tightened, her mind spun in confusion, and she felt something strange in her stomach—like a heavy weight had dropped there. All this time, Iris had never questioned their life. She’d always thought everything would be okay, that her mom would find a way, that they’d get through it like they always did. But in an instant, those thoughts were shattered by that man’s words—shattered like glass hitting the floor and breaking into a thousand pieces that could never be put back together.

So that’s why we rushed to move out of that apartment, Iris thought, her chest growing tighter. So Mom was in debt. So we were running from debt. So our life was harder than I realized.

She sat on the mattress, hugging her knees tightly, like she was trying to protect herself from a reality too heavy to face. Her eyes started to sting, but she held back the tears with all her strength. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to look weak. She didn’t want to burden her mom with her tears.

"But... there’s another way. Another way you can pay the rent for this place..."

The man’s voice changed—from angry to slick, from loud to whispery, like a snake trying to charm its prey. Iris lifted her head, eyes widening, and she felt something strange in her chest—something like fear.

"I know you have a daughter. Pretty, people say... REALLY pretty..."

Instantly, Iris’s whole body broke out in goosebumps. Fear started spreading through her entire being, from the tips of her hair to the tips of her toes, like cold water running down her spine. Her hands, still clutching her knees, started trembling, and she felt her heart beating faster, harder, like she was running from something chasing her.

"Hehehe... if you let me spend one night with your daughter... I’ll consider all your debt paid. Hehehe... how about it? A good deal, right? One night, and all your debt DISAPPEARS!"

Iris felt her blood run cold. He... he’s talking about me. That man is talking about me. He wants to... he wants to...

But at the same time, another thought started creeping into her mind—a dark thought, one she’d never imagined before. Would that make Mom’s debt go away? Would that mean Mom doesn’t have to worry anymore? Would that mean I could help Mom?

She started thinking, thinking deeply, thinking like she was trying to make a decision she never imagined she’d have to make. What should I do? What am I supposed to do? Should I sacrifice myself for Mom?

But before Iris could convince herself of anything, her mother’s voice rang out loud and clear—a voice full of anger and protection, a voice that snapped Iris back to reality.

"NO!"

"Even if you offered to let us stay here forever, sir, I would never—I would NEVER—let you touch my daughter! I’D RATHER DIE!"

Hearing her mother’s words, Iris felt her chest tighten—but not with pain. She felt a warmth that seemed to come from nowhere—a warmth spreading through her chest like sunlight breaking through thick clouds, a warmth that calmed her down, a warmth that told her her mom would always protect her, no matter what. Mom... Iris thought, and the tears she’d been holding back started rolling down her cheeks. Mom always protects me. Mom would never let anyone hurt me.

"Tch! Then PAY the rent! NOW!"

"Can you keep it down?"

Another man’s voice cut in—a voice that wasn’t unfamiliar to Iris, a voice that made her blink and stop crying. Who’s that? Why does his voice feel familiar?

"You don’t know what time it is? I’m trying to sleep here."

Iris recognized this voice, but she couldn’t picture a face. I’ve heard this voice before. But where? When? Who is he?

"Mind your own business! This is between me and this woman!"

"Mind my own business?"

The new man’s voice had turned threatening—a voice that made Iris shiver, a voice that told her this man was in a bad mood, a voice that made her feel like something big was about to happen.

"Just so you know," the man said in a low, almost whispering tone, "your business is keeping me awake."

"And you’re telling me to mind my own business?"

Iris could feel a murderous aura in the new man’s tone—the same kind she’d felt when she was near someone dangerous, the kind that made her want to run and hide. But at the same time, she also felt curious. Who is he? Why is he helping Mom? Why does he dare to stand up to that man?

Summoning her courage, Iris got off the mattress and crept slowly toward the front door. Her feet moved carefully, trying not to make a sound. She pressed her eye to the peephole—that tiny opening that let her see outside without being seen.

How shocked she was when she saw that the man exuding that murderous aura was her teacher.

Mr. Kai?! Iris thought, eyes bulging, mouth half open. Mr. Kai lives here too?! He’s my neighbor?!

Still in disbelief, Iris checked a second time. She rubbed her eyes, blinked a few times, and looked again. Kai was still standing there, in his rumpled suit, with an expression she couldn’t read, standing between her mom and the debt collector. This is real. Mr. Kai is really here. He... he’s helping Mom.

"So... what’s really going on here?" Mr. Kai asked in a casual tone, which made Iris relax a little. His voice no longer sounded threatening like before, but there was still a serious edge to it.

"This woman used to rent from me. But she hasn’t paid in three months. Then she moved here without saying a word." The man’s voice was condescending, like he was talking about something trivial. "I’ve been looking for her. Finally found her here. She still owes me 900 dollars. Nine hundred dollars, sir. That’s not pocket change. I need money too, sir. I’m not a rich man."

Iris just stood there, listening from behind the door. 900 dollars, she thought. That’s a lot. No wonder Mom has been so stressed lately. No wonder we keep moving. No wonder Mom always looks so tired.

She had no protest for what her mom was going through. She had no answers. She had no money. She had nothing. She was just a helpless teenage girl, who couldn’t do anything to help her mom.

"In that case, let me pay it."

Hearing that, Iris was stunned. Her eyes widened, and she nearly gasped. What is Mr. Kai planning? Why would he pay off Mom’s debt? What does he want in return?

She peered through the peephole again, watching Kai counting money from his wallet—money that was quickly snatched up by the debt collector, like he was grabbing stolen treasure.

"Okay... I’ll take this then."

"Hehehe... like this, I don’t have to deal with this woman anymore. Now it’s between you and me, sir."

Iris watched the man scurry away like he was running from a wild beast, his boots thudding against the cement floor. She allowed herself a small smile. At least he won’t bother Mom anymore. At least he’s gone.

But then, she heard her mom speak again.

"Thank you, sir... but... how can I repay your kindness?"

Iris tensed up. What will Mr. Kai say? Will he ask for something? Will he take advantage of this situation?

Iris knew her teacher wasn’t a bad person—at least, she’d never seen a bad side of Kai. But there was no guarantee he wouldn’t ask for something strange. No guarantee that all good people were truly good. No guarantee that she could trust anyone.

"Don’t get the wrong idea, ma’am. I just want some peace and quiet. Consider it me buying some peace from you."

Hearing that, Iris took a long breath and let it out slowly. Her chest felt lighter, her heart filled with calm. My trust in that teacher wasn’t betrayed. He really just wanted to help. He didn’t ask for anything. He’s just... kind.

Iris wanted to turn around and head back to her room, to get back in bed and try to sleep, but before she could take a step, she heard something strange from her mom.

"Sorry, I haven’t had a chance to greet the neighbors since we just moved. My name is Diana Noa."

Iris froze. Noa? she thought, her brow furrowing. Why did Mom lie about our last name? Our real name isn’t Noa. Our real name is—

But before she could finish that thought, she heard her mom’s voice again, this time calmer.

"Thank you once again, sir. I won’t forget your kindness."

"No need to remember it."

Iris heard footsteps walking away, then the sound of a door closing. She was still standing behind the door, her mind spinning fast.

Noa. Why did Mom use the name Noa? What is she hiding? What’s going on?

But then, she shook her head. Maybe Mom has her own reasons. Maybe there’s something I don’t know. Maybe it’s better if I don’t get involved. Mom must know what she’s doing.

Iris, not wanting to stress herself out, quickly headed to her room and hurried to sleep. But her sleep wasn’t peaceful. Her mind kept filling up with questions she couldn’t answer, worries she couldn’t shake, and a feeling that something big was happening around her—and she had no idea what it was.