Chapter 180 + 25 Bonus

One thing was certain: Luna's visit was the day's highlight. By the time the children realized I was there, I was surrounded by small hands, homemade cards, and game requests. However, I noticed one boy who remained apart. He sat by the window in a wheelchair, gazing at the sky. Initially, I thought he was asleep or catatonic, but occasional glances revealed otherwise.

"Who is that boy?" I asked the nurse.

The nurse sighed. "That's Tom."

"Is he sick, or...?"

"He's very shy," she replied softly. "Doesn't like hanging out with the others. Barely talks in group therapy. We've tried everything."

I frowned. "May I...?"

The nurse shrugged. "Sure. You can try to talk to him. He might not answer, though."

I cautiously approached his wheelchair. He appeared to be about sixteen and anorexic, his thin legs suggesting prolonged wheelchair use. I watched him, realizing his gaze was fixed on a bird's nest in the tree. Baby birds were inside, and the mother had just returned with food.

"You're watching the birds?" I asked.

He shot me a look but remained silent. I sat cross-legged beside him. Together, we watched the mother feed her babies before flying away.

"She's always feeding them," Tom blurted out. "Back and forth all day."

"I wonder if she gets tired," I replied.

Tom glanced at me. "I doubt it. Birds are wired for that sort of thing."

"They still get tired, though," I said. He smirked. "Don't you want to come play a board game with us?"

He stiffened, then looked at the others, grimaced, and shook his head. "Nah. I don't fit in."

"Why not?"

He shrugged, gesturing to himself. "I'm a guy. And I'm anorexic. Look at me."

"So?" I asked, eyeing his thin arms. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Guys aren't supposed to be anorexic. It's... weird."

Chapter 160 + 25 Bonus

Tom was silent for a moment. Then, turning his head, he muttered through clenched teeth, "Everyone."

I frowned. "Well, I don't think that's true. Plenty of guys have eating disorders, anorexia included."

"Tell that to my parents," Tom scoffed. "My anorexia was ignored until I was almost dead. No one believed me, and now look at me. Now no one wants me around while I'm in this damn wheelchair."

My lips parted, but I stopped myself. He was right; men often faced overlooked eating disorders. And now, his wheelchair further alienated him.

"Do you think your peers think that?" I asked, gesturing to the others. "Have they told you they don't want you around, or have you just assumed that?"

Tom opened and closed his mouth. His deep blue eyes met mine. I made a decision. I grabbed his wheelchair handles, spun it around, and pushed it toward the games table.

"Hey!" Tom shouted. "What the hell—"

"We're playing Monopoly," I said, "and you're joining in."

By the time I left the youth center, the sky was dark. I stifled a yawn, saying goodnight to Sophia. We'd spent the entire day there. After I'd moved Tom to the games table, I convinced him to play Monopoly—and before I knew it, we were three hours into the game.

I promised to return. How could I not?

As I opened the car door, my phone buzzed. A text from Viona illuminated the screen: "Meet me at Crescent Pub. NOW."