Westridge Night Market – Evening
The music academy wasn't far from the old campus of Westridge University, bordered by a bustling night market that was already alive with activity by six in the evening. Strings of bare bulbs cast a warm glow over the food stalls, their scents mingling with the chatter of the crowd.
The car inched forward in the slow-moving traffic, and as they neared the end of the street, Sophia noticed a commotion up ahead—a small crowd gathered around something, murmurs floating through the cracked car window.
"...That's just cruel, shoving a camera in a kid's face like that."
"Oh please, he's probably faking it. These days, the poorer they look, the more sympathy they get online."
"Did you see his uniform? That's Westridge Academy—top-tier private school. No way a kid from there is slumming it at a night market."
Sophia stiffened at the mention of Westridge Academy.
Her uncle, Daniel Carter, scoffed from the driver's seat. "Don't buy into that sob story, Sophia. These street vendors are all scammers. That 'poor student' act? Pure marketing."
Daniel had spent the last month soaking up the perks of Eleanor's wealth—gold chains, luxury cars—and now looked down on the very world he'd crawled out of.
The argument ahead grew louder.
A heavyset man, face flushed with alcohol, was yelling at a food stall owner. "You think you're too good for my camera? Twenty thousand followers, kid! I could ruin you with one post!"
Sophia leaned forward, straining to see through the crowd—and froze.
There, behind the stall, stood Alexander Sterling.
The same white school uniform. The same cold, detached expression.
A little girl—his sister, Luna Sterling—clung to his leg, her small frame trembling.
The drunk man kicked over a trash can, sending scraps flying. "You wanna play tough? Let's see how you handle this!"
In one brutal motion, he shoved Alexander toward the searing hot wok.
Alexander didn't flinch.
He twisted just enough to shield Luna—but not enough to avoid the splash of boiling oil.
The sizzle of scorched skin was audible.
Sophia's stomach lurched.
Alexander's right hand—already scarred—was now blistering red, the skin swelling grotesquely.
Yet his voice didn't waver. "Fifteen dollars. Pay up."
The crowd gasped.
The drunk man paled. "That—that was your fault! You're not pinning this on me!"
Sophia didn't think.
She grabbed the boba tea Daniel had bought her, flung the car door open, and marched straight into the fray.
The icy drink hit the drunkard square in the face.
"What the—?!"
Pearls and ice cubes slid down his shirt as he whirled around—only to freeze at the sight of Sophia.
She was shaking.
But she stood her ground.
"Pay him. Five hundred. Now."
The crowd fell silent.
Alexander's gaze flicked to her, unreadable.
This was the same girl who'd kicked a chair for him in class. The same girl who'd cried when he ignored her.
Now here she was, fists clenched, cheeks flushed, looking like she might burst into tears any second—yet still glaring down a man twice her size.
Why?
The drunk man hesitated, eyeing Sophia's designer clothes and the Bentley idling nearby.
Daniel leaned out the window, flashing his gold chains. "You got a problem, pal?"
The man cursed under his breath but pulled out his phone. "Fine. But this is extortion!"
The moment the payment cleared, he slunk off, the crowd dispersing with him.
Silence settled over the stall.
Alexander wordlessly began cleaning up, his movements precise despite the injury.
Sophia hovered awkwardly, clutching her empty cup.
"Let me see your hand," she blurted.
Alexander ignored her, turning away to adjust the stall's awning.
Luna, however, peeked out from behind him, her big eyes curious.
Sophia smiled at her—then flinched as Alexander abruptly stepped between them.
"You should go," he said flatly.
Sophia's face burned.
She'd just helped him, and this was the thanks she got?
Fine.
If he wanted to be stubborn, let him.
She spun on her heel and stormed back to the car.
Aftermath
By the time Lin Yuezhen—Alexander and Luna's mother—returned from her errands, the stall was spotless.
Luna chattered excitedly about the "pretty sister who scared the bad man away," but Lin barely listened, too busy fussing over her daughter's minor scrape.
Only when Luna insisted "Gege got hurt worse!" did Lin glance at Alexander.
"You fought with someone?"
"No," Alexander said, tucking his injured hand behind his back. "It's nothing."
Lin nodded, relieved. "Good. We can't afford trouble here."
She didn't ask to see the wound.
Didn't notice how his jaw tightened when he moved it.
Alexander exhaled slowly, watching Sophia's car disappear into the night.
He shouldn't care that she'd left.
So why did it feel like the air had gotten heavier?
The Drive Home
Back in the Bentley, Daniel eyed Sophia in the rearview mirror.
"Since when do you play hero for street kids?"
Sophia stared out the window. "He's my classmate."
"That kid?" Daniel snorted. "Doubt it. Probably bought the uniform secondhand to scam tourists."
Sophia's fingers curled into fists.
She'd seen the scars on Alexander's arms.
The way he'd shielded Luna without hesitation.
The quiet, relentless pride that refused to bend—even when it burned him.
"You don't know him," she whispered.
Daniel smirked. "And you do?"
Sophia didn't answer.
But for the first time, she wondered—
What if I did?
That Night
Sophia lay awake, replaying the evening.
Alexander's stoicism.
Luna's trusting smile.
The way his mother had barely glanced at his injury.
She thought of Eleanor's photo albums.
The love etched into every caption.
How different would Alexander's life have been with that kind of love?
And how much of the man he'd become was shaped by its absence?