Harper places bread, milk, and a tin of beans on the counter—bare essentials. The cashier scans, total blinks: £6.42. She slides her card. Declined. Tries again. Declined. Her cheeks flush. “Could you… just take off the bread?” she whispers. Ebony watches from the doorway, jaw clenched, eyes burning. Harper forces a smile, but her hands tremble as she counts coins from the bottom of her bag.
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