The Bench That Waits

Rain stitched the gray park into one long, soggy picture. Mariza clicked her purple umbrella open and squinted at her phone.

“Of course my screen hates water,” she muttered, wiping it on her sleeve.

A sneeze cut through the rain.

On a bench, Teto sat folded in on herself, shaking like a wet kitten. Her cheeks were too pink, her lips too pale. When she lifted her face, one pupil looked wrong—black, like ink spilled in her eye.

Mariza stopped. “Teto? Hey. What are you doing out here?”

Teto jerked, as if someone had yanked a string. “Don’t—” She swallowed hard. “I messed up.”

Mariza stepped under the bench’s dripping branches. “You’re burning up.”

Teto’s teeth clicked. “If she finds me—”

Mariza slid her hoodie off and held it out. “No speeches. Hood first.”

Teto stared at the hoodie like it might bite, then slipped her arms in.

Mariza tucked the umbrella over both of them. “My place is close. Can you walk?”

Teto nodded once, tiny and scared, and leaned into Mariza’s shoulder as they started toward the gate

Kitchen Drip-Drip

Mariza kicked her apartment door shut with her heel.

“Shoes off,” she said, pointing at a towel by the mat.

Teto wobbled, peeling off soaked sneakers. Her hands shook so hard she dropped one.

Mariza guided her to the couch. “Blanket. Then soup.”

Teto’s black pupil flicked to the hallway, like she expected someone to step out. “I’m not allowed to—”

“Allowed?” Mariza set her umbrella in the sink to drip. “In my house, the only rule is no freezing.”

Teto flinched at the word “rule” and hugged her knees. “Don’t make a list. Lists mean… punishments.”

Mariza paused, then spoke softer. “No lists. Just choices. Do you want water or warm tea?”

“Tea,” Teto whispered.

Mariza pulled out her phone and searched, “fever what to do.”

A buzz came from Teto’s pocket.

Teto yanked out her phone. The screen showed one name: Neru.

COMING TO GET YOU.

Teto’s face went empty. “She found me.”