I added him without even bothering to label his contact—just left it as the smiling face on his profile.
Once home, I immediately messaged my parents to call me when they landed for peace of mind.
The local student I had arranged to pick them up was waiting.
As I sat on my bed lost in thought, a knock at the door snapped me back to reality.
It was my landlady.
"Jess, I hate to bother you at this hour, but your rent is two weeks overdue. Could you pay it now?"
She was always understanding, so I quickly paid through my phone.
"Received, thanks. Oh, and, uh, Jess, I have to sell the apartment, so you've got a week to find a new place. I've sent back the extra rent and your deposit."
She smiled sheepishly and left after a few words.
Once the door shut, tears streamed down my cheeks.
My brother was gone, my parents were away, I was swamped with debt, and now I was about to lose my home.
Lying in bed, my phone chimed again.
"Sorry to intrude, but I had to be upfront—neuroblastoma patients usually don't live long. I think your brother might have been misdiagnosed. Maybe consider a second opinion?"