Between Love And Luxury

I still remember the sound of Luca’s voice that night.

Weak.

Shaky.

Like every word cost him strength.

“I’m okay,” he kept saying over the phone, coughing between sentences. “It’s probably just a fever.”

But I knew Luca too well. Whenever he said he was “okay,” things were bad.

I grabbed my sweater and rushed out of my apartment without even thinking twice. The night air was cold against my skin as I hurried through the dim streets, clutching my bag tightly against my side. My heart wouldn’t stop racing.

Luca and I had been together for almost two years. He didn’t have much money, actually, he barely had any at all, but I loved him in a way that made everything else feel unimportant. I loved the way he smiled at me like I was the only good thing left in his life. I loved how gentle he was, even when the world treated him harshly.

People always asked me why I stayed with a broke man.

But love had never sounded like money to me.

When I finally reached his apartment building, I climbed the stairs quickly and knocked on his door.

A few seconds later, Luca opened it slowly.

My chest tightened immediately.

He looked terrible.

His face was pale, sweat clung to his forehead, and his eyes looked heavy with exhaustion. He tried to smile when he saw me.

“Sarah,” he whispered. “You came.”

“Of course I came,” I said softly, stepping inside. “Look at you.”

The apartment was freezing cold. Luca probably hadn’t even turned the heater on to save money. I helped him back onto the couch and touched his forehead.

He was burning up.

“Did you eat anything today?” I asked.

He looked away.

That answer alone was enough.

I sighed quietly and walked toward the kitchen.

But the moment I opened the fridge, my stomach dropped.

Empty.

Not almost empty.

Completely empty.

No milk. No bread. No leftovers. Nothing except a half-empty bottle of water sitting in the corner like it had been forgotten days ago.

I stared at the shelves for a moment, trying not to let my emotions show.

Luca was sick… and starving.

Behind me, I heard him speak weakly from the couch.

“You don’t have to do anything, Sarah.”

I closed the fridge slowly.

“Yes, I do.”

I checked my purse and counted the little money I had left. It wasn’t much, but I didn’t care. Luca needed food and medicine.

“I’ll be back soon,” I told him.

Before he could argue, I left the apartment and headed to the nearest grocery store a few blocks away.

The store was quiet at that hour. Just a few people pushing carts beneath the bright white lights. I grabbed soup, bread, juice, medicine, fruits, anything I thought Luca needed.

As I placed the items on the counter, I felt relieved for the first time all night.

Until the cashier told me the total.

My heart sank instantly.

I was short.

I checked my purse again, hoping I had missed something, but there was nothing else inside except a few coins.

Embarrassment crawled up my neck.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured quietly. “Can you remove the medicine for now?”

Before the cashier could answer, a deep voice spoke behind me.

“It’s okay. I’ll pay for it.”

I froze.

Slowly, I turned around.

And that’s when I saw him.

A tall white man stood behind me, dressed in a dark expensive coat, his sharp eyes fixed entirely on me. He looked rich, far richer than anyone who had probably ever stepped into Luca’s neighborhood.

But it wasn’t his clothes or money that unsettled me.

It was the way he was looking at me.

Like the moment our eyes met, he had already decided he wanted me all for himself.

* * * * * * * *

The night air felt different when I stepped out of the supermarket.

Not colder, just heavier. The kind of heaviness that sticks to your thoughts.

I tightened my grip on the grocery bag as I turned, ready to leave, but the man who had paid for my items was still there, standing just outside under the flickering streetlight.

Like he had been waiting for me.

“I didn’t even thank you properly,” I said, shifting the bag awkwardly. “That was really kind of you.” I said.

A faint smile crossed his face.

“You looked like you needed help,” he replied simply.

Up close, he was even more striking. Not just rich-looking, but composed in a way that made everything around him feel a little less chaotic. Like he never rushed, even when the world did.

“I’m Sarah,” I added after a pause, realizing I hadn’t said it yet.

His gaze held mine for a second longer than necessary.

“Ethan Carter,” he said. “I’m here on business. Africa’s just a stop before I head back home.”

Something about the way he said it made it sound like he was used to moving through places without staying long enough to belong to any of them.

Still, I found myself nodding. “Well, Ethan Carter, thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said, then glanced at the bag in my hand. “But I’m glad I could help.”

A brief silence stretched between us.

Not uncomfortable.

Just… aware.

Then he added, casually but deliberate, “Give me your number. In case you ever need anything again.”

My first instinct was to refuse.

People didn’t just ask that out of nowhere.

But then I thought of Luca, his pale face, the empty fridge, the way he tried to smile through fever and I hesitated. I needed to go to him right away.

Ethan noticed. He didn’t push, he just there and waited.

That made it worse somehow.

"I will rather have your number." I say while pulling out my phone.

He typed in his number, then handed the phone back to me with a small nod.

“Take care of yourself, Sarah.”

And just like that, he walked away leaving me standing there with a grocery bag in one hand and a stranger’s number sitting heavy in my phone.

By the time I got back to Luca’s apartment, I pushed Ethan from my mind.At least, I tried to.

“Hey,” Luca whispered when I entered, lifting his head slightly from the couch.

“I got everything,” I said softly, forcing a smile. “Don’t try to sit up too fast. You are too weak.”

His eyes followed me as I moved into the kitchen.

The apartment was still cold, still too empty, but I filled it with movement. I cooked soup, made tea, and set aside medicine. The sound of boiling water and clinking dishes made the place feel less lonely.

When I brought him the bowl, Luca looked at it like it was something far more valuable than food.

“You didn’t have to spend your money like this,” he said weakly.

I sat beside him.

“I know,” I replied. “But I wanted to.”

He didn’t argue after that.

He just ate slowly, and I stayed beside him until his breathing evened out a little.

But even as I watched him recover in small pieces, my mind kept drifting back to the streetlight. Back to Ethan Carter’s eyes.

I told myself it didn’t mean anything. It was just help from a stranger. That was all.

* * * * * * * * *

Three days passed like that.

Three days of soups, medicine, fever checks, and Luca slowly getting stronger. I barely left his side. When he slept, I stayed awake. When he needed water, I was already there.

But somewhere in between all of that , Ethan didn’t leave my thoughts.

I didn’t text him. I didn’t need to. At least that’s what I told myself.

On the fourth day, Luca finally sat up on his own without shaking.

“You should go home and rest,” he said softly. “You’ve been here all the time.”

I hesitated.

“I’m fine.” I say.

“You’re tired, Sarah. I love you and I want you to rest my love. I will be ok. Don't worry.”

There was something in his voice that made it sound like a request he didn’t want to make.

I looked at him for a long moment, then nodded.

“Okay. But I’ll come back tomorrow.”

He gave a small smile. “I’ll be waiting.”

* * * * * * * * * *

When I finally reached my home, the silence...