The morning sun filtered through the high-rise buildings of Los Angeles, its glow bouncing off polished glass walls and spilling into the bustling streets. Jason moved steadily with the crowd, but unlike yesterday, there was no sluggish drag in his steps, no scent of stale liquor clinging to his breath, no bitterness clouding his eyes. He was walking with purpose.
His mind kept replaying Sophie's smile from the breakfast table, her small voice whispering "thank you" before hugging him tightly. For the first time in what felt like years, Jason's chest felt lighter. He wasn't just existing anymore. He had a reason to breathe, to wake, to move.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, letting the cool morning breeze brush against his face as he walked along the concrete pavement.
"Same world…" he muttered under his breath, eyes darting to the skyscrapers, the billboards, the endless parade of cars honking at each other. "But not the same place."
He stopped at a pedestrian crossing. Across the wide, buzzing avenue stood a massive pharmacy, painted white with a bold green sign that read Health First Medicals. Through its glass walls, he could see shelves stacked with medicine, vitamins, syrups—everything Sophie needed.
Jason's jaw tightened as his thoughts drifted back to her cough, the frailness in her arms, the tired look in her twelve-year-old eyes.
"I'll bring her here after work," he whispered, determination sharp in his tone. "No matter what it takes."
The light turned green, but Jason didn't cross. He had work to get to. The pharmacy would wait, but Sophie's health wouldn't. He turned and continued his walk, weaving past businessmen in suits, students clutching coffee cups, and street vendors shouting about their bagels and hotdogs.
---
By the time Jason reached the garage, the metallic smell of oil and grease already clung to the air. The clanking of wrenches and the hum of machines filled the workshop. Unlike before, though, there was no dread weighing him down as he stepped through the doors.
"Jason!" one of the younger mechanics called, waving enthusiastically. "You're early today."
Jason gave a small nod, offering a faint smile. His eyes, however, instantly caught sight of Sam. His best friend was near the reception counter, engaged in a lively conversation with a woman. Her back was to Jason, but even from behind, her presence demanded attention. She had long, silky hair flowing past her shoulders, a fitted blazer hugging her slim waist, and her heels clicked with effortless elegance against the tiled floor.
Jason slowed his steps. Something about the air shifted, as though the room itself leaned in to listen. He barely realized his eyes had lingered on her—drawn not just by her figure but by the confident aura radiating from her.
Then, as though sensing his gaze, the woman turned.
Jason froze.
Her face was striking—smooth skin, sharp cheekbones, eyes framed by long lashes. And when her lips curved into a smile, something in Jason's chest skipped. She waved gently at him, a gesture that was neither too familiar nor distant, but… warm.
Jason blinked, quickly snapping out of it. He cut his gaze away, pretending not to notice. His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag as he walked briskly toward his workstation. The last thing he needed right now was distraction. Sophie was his priority, not fluttering hearts or admiring strangers.
Still, he could feel her gaze linger for a second longer before she turned back to Sam.
---
By the time Jason settled down, the woman was gone. He placed his bag down and unbuttoned his work shirt, rolling up his sleeves. His hands were steady, ready to work.
That was when Sam appeared, grinning like a child who had just uncovered a secret.
"Morning, bro," Sam greeted, giving him their usual playful shoulder bump.
Jason smirked faintly. "Morning."
Sam paused, sniffing the air dramatically. He leaned closer and narrowed his eyes. "Hold up. You smell… good."
Jason frowned. "What?"
"Yeah!" Sam sniffed again like a detective dog. "Not like smoke. Not like beer. You actually smell like… soap! Real soap! You showered?"
Jason chuckled dryly. "Shut up, man."
Sam laughed, slapping Jason's back. "Finally! I thought you were turning into an oil barrel. What happened? Did your sister beat some sense into you?"
Jason's smirk faded but his tone softened. "Something like that."
Sam tilted his head, catching the subtle shift in Jason's voice. "Sophie's doing okay?"
Jason nodded. "Better than before. I just… need to make sure she gets healthier."
Sam gave him a knowing smile. "That's the Jason I knew was buried somewhere under all that smoke. Good to have you back, man."
Jason exhaled through his nose, pretending to adjust a wrench on the table to hide the small grin tugging at his lips.
---
"Oh!" Sam suddenly clapped his hands, as though remembering something juicy. "Speaking of women…" He dragged out the word with a teasing tone.
Jason groaned. "What now?"
"You saw that lady earlier, right? The one with the Benz G-Wagon?"
Jason kept his eyes on the tools, though his ears were listening. "Briefly."
Sam leaned in with a smirk. "Bro, she's rich. Like, crazy rich. Owns a chain of boutiques downtown. She dropped off her car for me to check, but guess what?"
Jason raised a brow, glancing at him. "What?"
Sam pulled out a folded slip of paper from his pocket, waving it dramatically. "She left this. Her number. And not for me." He jabbed it at Jason's chest. "For you."
Jason blinked, caught off guard. "…Me?"
Sam nodded vigorously. "Yeah, you. Said to give it to the tall, quiet one with the serious eyes. Bro, you got a fan."
Jason took the paper slowly, staring at the digits written in neat handwriting. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though he tried to suppress it.
Sam, of course, wasn't letting it go. "What're you gonna do? Call her? Maybe she'll take you out for steak and wine, huh? Upgrade you from ramen and broken TVs."
Jason snorted, sliding the paper into his pocket. "Yeah, right. Last thing I need is some rich woman babysitting me."
Sam burst out laughing. "That's the Jason humor I missed! Man, I swear, something's changed in you."
Jason shrugged, picking up a spanner and walking toward the first car of the day. "Maybe it has."
The two friends exchanged a look—an unspoken understanding passing between them. Whatever Jason was becoming, it wasn't the broken man of yesterday. He had a mission now, and even if he didn't spell it out, Sam could see it in his eyes.
And as the day began, the garage buzzed with renewed energy. Jason, armed with both the system's guidance and his own determination, was ready to face whatever came his way.