Westridge City – Nightfall
"Big cities are hard to settle in."
Lin Yuezhen adjusted the little girl in her arms, her hair slightly disheveled from the evening's chaos. "The night market is rough. We're newcomers here—if we run into trouble, it's better to just endure it. Don't provoke anyone."
Alexander Sterling gave a curt nod, his voice flat. "Mn."
This was the reality of poverty.
In families struggling to survive, attention was a finite resource. With mouths to feed and debts to pay, care was rationed—given to whoever needed it most in the moment.
Alexander had never known indulgence.
From the moment his sister, Luna, was born, every extra bite in his bowl had gone to her. Yet somehow, even on a diet of cold noodles and boiled vegetables, he'd grown tall and broad-shouldered—a pillar for his fractured family.
He'd skipped adolescence entirely.
While other boys his age rebelled and dreamed, Alexander had simply... hardened.
Lin couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him smile.
His school uniform, pristine that morning, was now splattered with oil and grime. Only his sharp features kept him from looking utterly disheveled.
Guilt twisted in Lin's chest. "Take that off when we get home. I'll wash it. From now on, I'll handle the stall alone. You and Luna focus on schoolwork."
Alexander didn't argue. "Take the bus. Last one leaves soon."
Lin hesitated, her eyes darting to his injured arm. "Can you even grip the handlebars? The doctor said—"
"I don't feel it anymore."
The words cut through the humid night air.
Lin's mouth opened, then closed.
She left without another word, Luna's small hand clutched tightly in hers.
The Wound
Alone at the stall, Alexander finally rolled up his sleeve.
The fabric had fused to the blistered flesh. Peeling it away took skin with it, revealing raw, angry tissue beneath.
No faucet nearby.
He grabbed a bucket of lukewarm water meant for cooking and poured it over the wound.
The sting was familiar.
Pain had long since stopped registering as anything more than an inconvenience.
The real issue was infection—a risk he couldn't afford.
As the water ran pink down the drain, Alexander flexed his hand.
The pinky and ring fingers refused to straighten.
Just like yesterday.
Just like tomorrow.
Six months ago, the police had accompanied him to the hospital.
"Comminuted fracture of the ulna. Nerve damage. Permanent impairment of the dominant hand."
The verdict: Grade 1 disability.
His assailant got three years.
A fair trade, Alexander thought.
Three years of peace in exchange for a hand he'd already learned to live without.
An Unexpected Return
Footsteps.
Light, hurried.
"Wait! Don't go yet!"
Alexander turned to see Sophia Carter sprinting toward him, cheeks flushed, two overstuffed plastic bags swinging from her hands.
She skidded to a stop, breathless.
Then froze at the sight of his exposed injury.
"...I should've demanded a thousand."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Sophia bit her lip, suddenly unsure. She'd played the hero without realizing how badly he was hurt—now guilt gnawed at her.
Dropping the bags, she began unloading bottles of water onto the counter.
"I read that ice water is bad for burns. These are room temperature—had to go to three stores to find enough."
Her voice was soft, almost... gentle.
Alexander had never been spoken to like that.
Not even when Luna was sick.
It made his skin prickle with something he couldn't name.
Sophia continued, oblivious to his discomfort. "This is saline solution for cleaning. It'll sting. Then this ointment, then dressing. Try not to get it wet after."
She glanced up periodically, as if checking he was still listening.
From his vantage point, Alexander could see the way her cheeks rounded when she spoke, how her lips pursed around words like "hurt"—as if the very concept pained her.
A car horn blared in the distance.
Sophia jumped, then hurriedly produced one last item—a small box.
"Scar gel. Expensive stuff—works on burns and cuts."
She thrust it at him, then hesitated before adding a bag of cat-shaped gummies.
"For... distraction. Or give them to your sister."
Another honk.
Sophia glanced toward the sound, then back at Alexander. "You should... clean it properly. I have to go."
She turned and fled, leaving behind the faintest trace of floral perfume.
Alexander stood motionless.
Slowly, almost against his will, he lifted the bag of candy to his nose.
And inhaled.
Homecoming
The tenement building was a far cry from Westridge Academy's manicured lawns.
Four floors of crumbling concrete, shared bathrooms, and flickering hallway lights.
Alexander parked the food cart and took the stairs two at a time, nodding to the elderly landlady on his way up.
Their current apartment was the second they'd tried since arriving in the city.
The first had been a dormitory-style flophouse—bunk beds crammed into every corner, no privacy, no peace.
This place, at least, had walls.
Inside, Luna was already asleep, curled under a thin blanket in the partitioned bedroom.
Lin knelt on the main room's floor, sorting through their meager belongings.
"Hungry?" she asked without looking up.
"Ate earlier."
Alexander joined her, folding clothes with practiced efficiency. Most were winter items—and nearly all for Lin or Luna.
His own possessions fit into a single drawer.
Lin watched him work, her expression tight. "How was school? Any trouble with the transfer?"
"Fine."
"Coach Li called. Said Westridge Academy has good funding now. Better than some of the other options we had."
Alexander didn't react to the mention of his former mentor. "As long as I make the provincial team, the school doesn't matter."
Lin's hands trembled. "...Do you hate me?"
The question hung between them, heavy with unspoken history.
Alexander kept folding.
This script was familiar.
The guilt. The tears. The endless cycle of "if onlys."
Six months ago, he might have engaged.
Tonight, he simply asked, "Did Luna charge her hearing aids?"
Lin blinked, thrown. "She wore them all day. But..."
She lowered her voice, though Luna couldn't hear them anyway. "They're adult models—too big. If they fall off during PE..."
"We'll get her custom ones."
Lin paled. "The cost—"
"I'll handle it."
Three words, delivered with absolute certainty.
Lin opened her mouth, then closed it.
She knew better than anyone what those words cost him.
Night shifts at the frozen goods warehouse. Weekends tutoring rich kids in math.
A childhood bartered away, one hour at a time.
As if sensing the tension, Luna stirred in her sleep, whimpering.
Lin hurried to her side. "I'll put her to bed. There are eggs from the landlady—have some tomorrow."
She paused, spotting the candy peeking from Alexander's bag. "For Luna?"
For the first time that night, Alexander hesitated.
The gummies were cheap, mass-produced things—the kind of treat he'd never wanted before.
Yet something primal in him resisted sharing them.
"A classmate gave them," he said at last.
"To me."