Chapter 78

  ? At His Back ?

  Mira rinsed the last plate, setting it carefully on the rack. The kitchen was quiet, but she didn’t let herself relax. Every shadow beyond the windows drew her gaze—front, sides, even the tiny panes in the back. She moved like a whisper, crouching, peering, making sure no one could see her if they weren’t supposed to. When she returned to the front door, a soft tap echoed against the wood. Her heart jumped. She slid to the window first, eyes scanning. The familiar figure on the porch made her stomach lurch. She drew a sharp breath, then swung the door open.

  “Alex?”

  Mira frowned at the unexpected visitor standing before the orphanage gate, the afternoon sun catching in his hair.

  He held a small stack of papers, clasped carefully in both hands, as though afraid to crease them.

  She stepped outside and closed the door behind her, the sounds of the girls inside still faintly audible.

  “What brings you here?”

  “This.” he said, offering her one of the papers.

  Mira took it, eyes scanning the neat lines, then read aloud.

  “Volunteering. Medical apprentice. No payment asked. Contact the Wolves.”

  She lifted her gaze.

  Alex’s eyes lingered a little too low, not quite meeting hers, his posture steady but restrained.

  “Is it… acceptable?” he asked. “Giving my address seemed unwise. Dante said the police might not like it. He thought it's best if the word is passed quietly.”

  Mira glanced down at the page again.

  "The handwriting is… very careful."

  “Dante is very smart. And practice pays off.” A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “He had the letters right from the start.”

  Mira gave a short laugh.

  “I see. Still, I doubt he surpasses our Lino.” She lifted her chin, pride unmistakable.

  Alex smiled fully then—warm, unguarded.

  It was that smile that made her decide.

  “Alex…” Her voice softened. “I need your help with something.”

  He nodded at once, attentive.

  She leaned closer, lowering her voice though the street lay open and bright.

  “We are sheltering someone. In secret... Men are searching for him. I believe they are the same ones involved in the shootings at night and the ones who hang that man that day.”

  She stepped closer still, speaking near his ear now.

  “We wish to move him out—but we fear the place may already be watched.”

  When she drew back, she searched his face carefully.

  “Do you know of a carter, or a covered wagon? Something ordinary enough not to draw notice?”

  She hesitated, then added, quieter still:

  “The orphanage sends out laundry and supplies—linen hampers, soap crates, market bundles. Our usual driver has not come in days. He doesn't live in the area and he is probably afraid of coming with all what's going on.”

  Alex swallowed.

  “I’ll… see what can be done,” he said.

  Only then did he realize how close they stood; a faint color crept into his cheeks.

  “Did you ask the Wolves?”

  “No.” Mira shook her head at once—too quickly. “No. I don’t want them knowing. I chose to hide him. I won’t trouble them with the danger—especially Leo.”

  At the name, Alex’s breath hitched. He remembered Leo's trauma with his sister, Dina.

  “You’re right,” he said quietly.

  Then, firmer.

  “I’ll find someone.”

  Mira released a breath she had been holding.

  “Good.”

  She stepped back, sunlight catching the edge of her smile.

  “Then we have an agreement.” She tapped the paper lightly. “I shall approve this—as vice leader of the Wolves—once you procure that carriage.”

  Alex laughed.

  And then—belatedly—it struck him.

  “Oh… I just noticed! You know how to read, Mira?”

  “Of course I do. We get education here. Though many people around here don't—not just children. I don't know if they will even understand this.”

  Alex's eyes softened as he stepped back slightly, scanning the walls and windows, the sunlight catching the worn paint and the sturdy wooden door.

  Compared to the usual slum buildings, it felt organized and cared for.

  “It’s a nice place.” he said.

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  “Girls’ orphanages are usually better taken care of." Mira responded, her tone a little more distant than earlier. "The nuns are nice too… One—Sister Agnes—has been here since I was a baby.”

  He nodded, then noticed her tone, flat and distant.

  “Are… you okay?”

  Mira looked at him. His concern was genuine. She didn’t know him as long as she knew the Wolves, but he was more than an outsider—a friend. A very close friend. Someone who made her feel… strange, in a good way.

  She moved closer to him, closer than the last time they talked alone in the stairs and pressed her back against the wall, arms crossed. Her flat cap sat crooked on her head, and she kicked at the dust on the floor with one boot.

  “Have you heard? Leo organized a meeting this early morning.”

  Alex’s eyes tracked every small movement she made.

  "What kind of meeting?"

  "He gathered kids from all around the slums, not just gangs but groups, like the chimney sweeps and newsboys. A lot came. A lot."

  “You should have seen him.” Mira shook her head slightly, tugging at a loose thread on her sleeve. “The way he talked to strangers—smaller kids, bigger kids—like he’d known them for a decade. Even vicious ones.” Her fingers flexed, nails pressing into her palms.

  Alex leaned slightly against the doorframe, tilting his head, curiosity and concern mingling in his expression.

  But he chose to listen, as he felt Mira is not done.

  Her shoulders slumped just a fraction, and her gaze drifted to the sunlight spilling across the wooden floor.

  She pushed off the wall and started pacing, boots scuffing softly against the floor.

  “He taught me almost everything I know,” she said. “How to fight. How to stand. The way I put these stupid hands in my pockets? I'm trying to imitate him.” She stopped, jaw tightening. “And I dared call myself his rival. The one who’d dethrone him. Strongest kid in the slums.”

  She let out a short, humorless breath, remembering—

  The Red corner fight. The clash with Maggie over hiding or keeping Rocco. The girls splitting into two groups instead of uniting.

  “When I can’t even do basic babysitting.” Her hand curled into a fist, then loosened. “When I just endanger the orphanage instead of protecting it. When I can’t look after the gang and my friends the way he does.”

  She didn’t look at Alex.

  “The burden finally leaves my shoulders,” she said quietly, “only to land on his. And I only noticed it today.”

  Her jaw tightened.

  Mira exhaled through her nose, sharp and bitter.

  “You’ve got Dante. Someone who’ll notice if you don’t come home.”

  “I’ve got the nuns. A bed. Rules.”

  "Pinch. Tonno and Lino live in the same building, with their folks."

  Her jaw tightened.

  “Leo’s got none of that. Not anymore.”

  She finally looked at Alex.

  “We’re it,” she said. “All of us. That’s everything he has.”

  Then, softer.

  “And I just… want to help him. Be like him. Even a little.”

  Alex's eyes didn't leave her.

  The admiration is clear—her drive to protect and strengthen others, not for glory or herself, but for the people around her. It hits him hard, and for a moment, he’s almost overwhelmed by how much she cares, how fiercely she carries her burdens.

  “Don’t underestimate babysitting,” he said finally. “My mother used to say I cried a lot as a kid. Apparently I was very hard to get to sleep.”

  Mira blinked.

  “You? Really?”

  “I don’t remember it,” he admitted quickly. “But I believe her.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “Mothers. Probably the toughest job in the world. Don’t you think?”

  Mira huffed, crossing her arms again.

  “You might be right. Sister Agnes looks exhausted half the time, though she hides it.”

  Alex nodded, then said it before thinking too hard.

  “And that’s you, Mira. You’ve got… a mother's presence.”

  The words barely landed before he panicked.

  “I mean—” He jerked his hands up, papers crinkling as he half-shielded his face, bracing instinctively for a punch. “Not that you’re old! Or boring. Or—” then lowered his guard, sheepish but smiling. “I just mean… you care. A lot.”

  Mira turned her face away, staring down the corridor.

  “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

  “Yes,” Alex said easily. Then, firmer, “But it’s also true. I’m not making anything up.”

  She was quiet for a beat, taking in the honesty in his tone.

  “…If that’s true,” she muttered, “I’d be a terrible mother.”

  Alex studied her for a moment, then shook his head.

  “Terrible mothers don’t say such things.”

  His gaze drifted toward the dormitory behind her, then returned.

  “And they don’t get so upset with themselves, thinking they’ve failed somehow.”

  Mira held his eyes.

  “I am… struggling a little myself,” Alex added, looking down, his voice lower than earlier.

  His fingers tightened around the papers—just enough to crease them faintly, the soft rasp betraying his nerves.

  “I notice changes. Some I do not like.”

  His gaze dropped.

  “But because of this—” he gestured slightly, the papers shifting in his hands, “I know who I want to be... and who I must not become.”

  His shoulders drew in as the words left him.

  “I know it may sound ridiculous. I’ll borrow a few instruments from Dr Kranz and do what little I can.”

  “People may think I’m merely playing around or pretending. But I am not.”

  His smile was small and sincere, papers still clutched awkwardly in his hands. For a second, Alex realized she was staring at them.

  “Ah—” he said quickly. “I should get going. I’m leaving these in a few buildings as well.”

  He held one out to her. “So... um, If one of the girls gets sick, and the nuns allow it, I can take a look.”

  He swallowed, then added, softer,

  “With the streets like this… if it’s hard to bring a doctor in…”

  “I’m here.”

  Something in that sentence made Mira’s heart skip.

  Her hand instinctively went to the side of her abdomen, where the wound had healed.

  A few months ago, she herself would laugh at the thought—a boy as small and young as her running around houses, pretending to be a doctor, instead of brawling, fighting, proving himself in the streets.

  But she didn't.

  "You must be busy." Alex said, noticing he took more of her time than intended. "You got this, Mira. We got this."

  He shifted, already turning away.

  And then—

  almost without thinking—

  Mira moved.

  Alex felt a light weight against his back. A forehead. Hair. The brim of her flat cap brushing his neck.

  Her hands rested on his shoulders, pressing a little, as if holding him to stay longer.

  Mira rested her head on his back, eyes closed, face hidden where he couldn’t see it. Her hands lowered, hesitated… then stopped at his sides, fingers barely brushing the fabric of his coat.

  They stayed like that.

  A long, quiet minute. Neither of them spoke.

  Mira's face was buried in his back.

  Alex's was red, unsure of what to do.

  “M-Mira?” he finally whispered.

  “Not another word.” she said quietly. “You hear me? What you're doing... It’s not ridiculous.”

  Alex’s ears burned. He didn’t dare move.

  Her knuckles pressed once against his coat—quick, almost angry—then stilled.

  Finally, Mira's voice returned, low, barely audible.

  “Keep walking... And don’t turn.”

  Alex swallowed.

  “…Okay.”

  He didn’t look back.

  He wasn't sure about the meaning. Did she mean 'don't give up and keep going' or did she not want him to see her face?

  He let the moment stretch, long enough to be sure she’d pulled away, long enough that turning would have been easy.

  Then he stepped forward.

  One step.

  Then another.

  The door closed softly behind him after her rushed footsteps.

  And Alex listened... and kept walking.

  Inside, Mira was pressed flat against the door, breath uneven, one hand clamped over her mouth as if holding something fragile inside her—heart racing, face burning, stunned by what she’d just done.