100

Boma left the confines of Donovan's house, boarded a shuttle to the estate's main gate and entered a cab leading towards the nearest pharmacy.

She prayed that Donovan would return the following day so there would be no chance of trouble.

The pharmacy bustled with muted activities, a symphony of hushed conversations and the occasional clatter of medicine bottles.

Boma, acutely aware of the prying gazes around her, moved through the aisles with a delicate blend of urgency and discretion.

She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with fellow patrons or pharmacy staff. The last thing she needed was to cross paths with someone who might recognize her, someone potentially connected to Donovan.

Wilberforce Island was small and students often knew each other or someone who knew someone. Everyone was connected in some way. And the connection ran deeper the longer you were in the school. She had a bit of luck because she was in year one.

The air of anonymity the pharmacy provided became her