The rural road, covered in cracked asphalt, snaked its way through the moonlit countryside. Gently, Olt’s footsteps followed its gentle curve. The discomfort in his ankle felt numb, now. Although, it could have been his anxiety keeping his mind off the pain.

The cool night air was a balm against his troubled thoughts. The moonlight painted the world in shades of silver and shadow, casting an ethereal glow on the fields and distant hills. Ahead, nestled amidst a grove of ancient trees, a warm beacon pierced the darkness. The farmhouse, a humble wooden structure with a sloping roof, exuded a sense of peace and belonging. Its windows, glowing with a soft yellow light, promised warmth and comfort. The porch, a wide expanse of weathered wood, beckoned him closer. Its rocking chairs creaked gently in the breeze. The air hummed, joining the chirping of crickets, the rustling of leaves, and the distant hooting of an owl. Olt paused, taking a deep breath, the scent of damp earth and wildflowers filling his lungs. The city, with its lights and relentless noise, felt a world away. Here, in the embrace of the countryside, time seemed to slow down, and worries faded into the vastness of the night sky.

The door swung open, revealing a kitchen bathed in the warm, shimmering glow of lanterns. The heart of the room was a massive stone fireplace, its flames crackling and dancing, casting long shadows across the exposed beams and hand-hewn cabinetry. The aroma of simmering plantains brought Olt at ease.

Olt's entrance startled his grandmother, Hannah, who was carefully tending to a pot bubbling on the stove. Her surprise quickly melted into a radiant smile.

"Olt!"

She exclaimed, her arms outstretched in a welcoming embrace.

Olt returned her hug, needing the warmth of her embrace. He murmured, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

"Hey, grandma."

The commotion drew the attention of another woman, Olt's aunt Cristina, who emerged from the shadows and into the kitchen with a gentle smile.

"Well, look who's here."

She was affectionate, but sarcastic.

"It’s grandma’s boy."

The warmth of the embrace lingered, a comforting counterpoint to the chill that had seeped into Olt's bones during the long journey. Hannah, her eyes twinkling with delight, pulled back, her hands resting on his shoulders.

"What a lovely surprise."

She was truly happy. But then, a frown creased her brow, a shadow passing over her cheerful expression.

"Olt, it's nearly nine. You left the city at sundown. You're not thinking of returning tonight, are you? Not with that killer running rampant. Or are you gonna ask Jeffrey for a ride back?"

Olt shook his head, a reassuring smile playing on his lips.

"No, Grandma, I'm staying the night. If my room's still available, that is."

Cristina’s lips curved into a playful smirk.

"Don't be stupid, Olt. Of course your room's still available."

The kitchen door creaked open, admitting a gust of cool night air and a figure cloaked in the grime of labor. Omar, Olt's grandfather, stepped into the warm glow of the kitchen. His weathered face was etched with the lines of a life spent working with his hands. He was clad in a stained apron, his thick forearms dusted with a fine layer of metal shavings.

"This steel can't be the real thing."

He grumbled.

"It's crap!"

Olt stood frozen, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He watched as Omar, oblivious to his presence, shuffled towards the sink, muttering under his breath.

"Who's this strong young man?"

Then, Omar chuckled, realizing it was Olt. His face softened.

"Ah, Olt!"

Cristina, sharp and teasing, cut through the moment.

"Usually you visit at the end of the month, not so unexpectedly."

Olt pulled away from Omar's embrace. He turned to face Cristina, his expression worried. Cristina's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a look of concern.

"What's wrong, Olt?"

Olt sighed, his shoulders slumping.

"I'm not gonna beat around the bush. I was laid off today."

A heavy silence settled over the kitchen. Cristina's eyes widened in disbelief.

"What!"

Hannah let out a long, weary sigh. She was fixed on Olt with worry on her face. Omar, seemingly oblivious to the bombshell, continued his methodical scrubbing at the sink.

Hannah finally spoke.

"Well, get comfortable, Olt. Let's not stand around."

Just then, the kitchen door swung open once more, admitting another figure into the dimly lit room. Jeffrey, his curly hair tousled from the night air, stepped inside, a curious expression on his face.

"I knew something was up,” Jeffrey announced, his voice laced with a playful lilt. “There's never this much commotion in the kitchen on a weeknight."

Jeffrey paused, his gaze sweeping over the assembled faces. His smile faded as he sensed the tension in the room. His voice softened.

"Hey, Olt.”

Then, Jeffrey turned to the others.

"What’s wrong?"

His tone was that of a man accustomed to taking charge, to solving problems with swift, decisive action.

…

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

The family gathered around the worn wooden, dining table. Its surface had the memories of countless meals shared.

The situation was deeply disappointing for Olt. But he had gotten the hard part out the way.

"I really hoped it wouldn't come to this. Two years have passed, and we still had our jobs. But I guess I was kidding myself."

Jeffrey groaned.

"Hadic’s government isn't honoring any decision made under Oliver’s government. It's all about wiping the slate clean, even if it means screwing over innocent people."

"Many people got their positions through some type of patronage, including myself," Olt replied, cynically.

Jeffrey shook his head.

"Sure, you got the scholarship because I knew people. But it doesn’t change the fact that you put in all the work."

Olt shrugged.

"It doesn't matter. It's known that the scholarship lottery was rigged in favor of people with connections. Or the slums. People who’d be loyal to anyone looking out for them."

Amidst the back and forth, Omar quietly rubbed his chin, lost in thought. He whispered, his voice barely audible above the clinking of silverware.

"I might be able to pull some favors."

Jeffrey leaned forward.

"Don't worry about it, I'll figure this out."

Cristina raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on her face.

"How do you plan to do that, Jeffrey? People like you might as well be blacklisted. The only thing you can do is risk getting yourself killed."

Jeffrey replied.

"I've made it this far being resourceful, Cris. I'm not about to give up now."

Omar gently interrupted. The experience shown in his mannerisms.

"I agree with Cristina, Jeffrey. You’re still walking, because of Ganjo. If the government found out there were still some of Oliver’s informants roaming around, especially with a nephew working in the Institute, we'd all be in danger. Besides, the only reason Olt started helping us was because our contract with the state went down along with Oliver."

Hannah's eyes widened with concern.

"Do you have people interested in the land you still have up in the hills, Omar?"

Omar replied.

"That's an option. But that's not gonna to fix much long-term."

Hannah countered.

"It's something in the meantime."

Olt, who had been quietly eating his food, raised his voice enough to catch the attention of the family.

"Whoa. I actually had an appetite.”

He cleared his throat, washing it down with the glass of water at his side.

“In the meantime, I could cut my lease and move back in to save on costs. Considering my role, I’ll look for some tutoring jobs and pick up any other odd jobs to compensate. Some of my students are linked to Premjestr families, and with the business grandpa still has, we could solve things until we figure out a better solution."

Jeffrey nodded, agreeing with Olt’s plan.

"I'll talk to some people I know at the port. Maybe they have something for you. The factories are rough work, and horrible pay, but it's something."

Hannah questioned Jeffrey with sharp disapproval.

"You're not planning to have Olt work in one of those sweatshops, are you?"

Jeffrey sighed.

"He’ll have to do it. He has no other choice, right now.”

Embittered, Christina added.

"Synoro has plenty of jobs, but they might as well be slave labor."

...

Hours had passed. The kitchen now lay quiet, the remnants of the meal scattered across the table like debris after a storm. The lanterns flickered, casting long shadows that danced on the walls. Olt sat at the end of the table, a cup of tea cradled in his hands. The steam curled upwards. He glanced at the clock on the wall, its hands ticking away the minutes of the early morning. It was almost 1am. He sighed, the sound a weary exhale of defeat. Footsteps echoed in the hallway, breaking the silence. Cristina, dressed in her pajamas, entered the kitchen.

"Aren't you tired?" she said, softly.

Olt shook his head, fixed on the swirling steam rising from his cup.

"Nowhere near tired,"He continued, his voice raspy. "Might be my nerves."

Cristina opened the refrigerator, the harsh light momentarily flooding the room. She pulled out a container of diced cheese, then joined Olt at the table, picking at the snack.

"I can't sleep either."

Olt sighed again, the sound echoing in the stillness of the kitchen.

"The house?”

Cristina looked at him.

Olt took a sip of his tea.

"My main concern isn’t losing the house and land to the bank."

He grew mildly annoyed.

"I never agreed with going off to school, or at least taking the scholarship."

Cristina stopped chewing, her gaze hardening.

Olt quickly added, sensing her disapproval.

"I'm grateful. I know it was a big deal. But I always wondered how sustainable it was gonna be. I teach law and politics for a reason."

Pausing, Olt’s eyes drifted to the flickering lantern light.

"The scholarship only paid for my tuition. You guys decided to put the property as collateral to get me through the living expenses because I couldn't do it with the shitty jobs I had. That always ate at me, especially because I never really-"

With a firm tone, Cristina interrupted.

"It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Dad and mom never thought twice about taking out the loan. Business was good at the time, and yes, no one is as smart as you in this house, but things had been decent for a long time. They really wanted the opportunity for you."

Olt sat back, his shoulders slumping. Cristina continued to pick at the cheese, the silence stretching between them.

"I really don't want to slave away at a factory just to barely pay the power bill, let alone a mortgage,” Olt finally added.

Cristina comforted Olt.

“I know. I'm letting Jeffrey sleep the idea off and hope he comes to his senses in the morning."

Another moment of silence passed, then Cristina's face lit up, a spark of an idea flickering in her eyes.

"What is it?" Olt asked, intrigued by the sudden shift in her demeanor.

Cristina chuckled.

"The cheese might be making my brain work.”

She adjusted herself upright.

“You teach law. Isn't there a law or something in the books that you could leverage?"

Olt scoffed.

"I don't think there's a law against being laid off or furloughed."

Cristina retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Hey smartass, I mean about the loan, the mortgage. That's our main problem, isn't it? You wouldn't be helping us if it weren't for the loan. And even with business as slow as it is, if it weren't for the loan, we'd be fine since the property’s ours."

Olt scratched his head, a nervous tic betraying his apparent calm.

"Even if I could find anything, I doubt it'd get through with how politicized the courts are right now."

Cristina waved a dismissive hand, her tone brooking no argument.

"Be serious, Olt. This is Synoro, it's always been a mess. We had a dictatorship for 30 years. but they tried to honor cases, as long as it had nothing to do with the politicians. And by the looks of it, Hadic might be a bit more transparent in that regard."

Olt scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.

"Transparent? You're kidding, right?"

Cristina shook her head, her expression a mix of exasperation and concern.

"It took them two years to pull the plug on your job, Olt. If they were that bad, they would've done it on day one, and murdered all of you. But they didn't."

Her voice rose, a passionate plea for him to see reason.

“I didn't go to university, but even I know it's obvious this new government doesn't want to look bad. Their whole message is about how much they love freedom. Even if it's all bullshit, they’re trying hard to hide their hypocrisy.

As Olt finished taking a sip from his cup of tea, a slight smile crossed his face. He teased Cristina.

"You've learned well, young grasshopper.”

"You're not funny," Cristina responded with a playful gesture.

Olt returned to a pensive state.

"You got a point. But even if I could find something, I'd need the money for an advocate."

Cristina reasoned with Olt.

"One step at a time. Put your thinking hat on first, and investigate starting tomorrow!"