“I already tried the pharmacy,” she said quickly, noticing my hesitation. “They said no. I just—I just need something to bring his fever down.”
Her voice broke on the last word.
“I’ll pay you back,” she added, softer this time. “I promise.”
I looked at the receipt again. Then at the child. Then back at her. And in that moment, I knew the truth wasn’t what she needed.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I saw her face fall immediately, the hope draining faster than I expected. For a split second, I hated myself for starting the sentence that way.
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