Scars Of A Broken Bond by Calv Momose

Shirley’s father had almost made a full recovery, but he was still taking medication. Shirley was anxious about leaving her father
alone in their hometown, so she rented an apartment with two bedrooms.
Shirley’s father was not the kind of man to sit still. Although he still had some savings, he preferred to do something instead of
staying at home all day. Consequently, he was currently working as a janitor.
Upon returning to school, Shirley worked hard to maintain good grades while caring for her father. She took on part-time jobs
during the weekends to help support them both financially.
Moments later, Shirley emerged from the kitchen, a plate of cookies in her hands. With a small smile, she placed the cookies in
front of Claire.
“It’s yummy! I have to take some home with me. Shirley, you are really talented at this. I wish I had a daughter like you.
Unfortunately, I have only one son, and he takes delight in pissing me off every day,” Claire declared as she happily ate the
cookies.
“Mrs. Blakely, your son is so excellent. Many people should be jealous of you,” Shirley assured, smiling at Claire.
Shirley had heard from Claire that her son worked in the Blakely Group.
“Stop defending him,” Claire grumbled, staring around the living room.
The small apartment was clean and tidy, and there were a few pots of green plants on the balcony, adding vitality to the place.
Shirley excused herself, went to her room, and returned with a stack of cash which she handed to Claire. “I planned to bring it to
you tomorrow, but since you are here, I don’t have to make the trip.”

A short while later, Claire took her leave, and Shirley helped her pack up the cookies.
As Claire left the house, she happened to see a bottle of folic acid on the table.
Frowning, Claire couldn’t help but suspect something. She glanced at Shirley’s flat stomach and shook her head. Perhaps she
was overthinking it.
The folic acid was probably for Shirley’s father. Elderly people would take it to prevent Alzheimer’s disease.
Later that evening, Sergio went home for dinner.
When he saw cookies on the table, he thought the family cook had made them.
He sat down, picked one up at random, and ate it. As he was munching on another cookie, he commented, “These cookies taste
pretty good.”
Smiling proudly, Claire nodded. “I second that.”
“Mom, did you make them?”
“No, it was made by one of our tenants. If you like it, I’ll ask her to make some more for you.”
“No need for that.” Although Sergio liked the cookies, he didn’t want to bother the tenant.
“It’s not a big deal. That girl is very kind and she has given me a lot of home-made food before. I wish I had a daughter like her.”
Sergio frowned. To him, that tenant must have done this because she knew who Claire was. She was probably trying to get into
Claire’s good books.

Immersed in her own thoughts and unaware of Sergio’s, Claire continued, “She’s a poor girl. Her mother died young and her
father is ill. She works part-time and goes to school while taking care of her father...”