When Ethan returned to Skyview Residence, the apartment was completely quiet, and although the city lights still stretched endlessly outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, that sense of liveliness felt distant, as if it belonged to another world.
He stood in the living room without moving and did not even check his phone, simply staring out at the city for a while as his thoughts slowly settled.
Everything over the past few days had happened too quickly, from the hospital corridor to where he stood now, and he had barely given himself time to pause, constantly moving forward through earning money, pushing back, and taking control.
But in that rare moment of stillness, a single thought surfaced clearly—he had not truly gone to see his mother since the surgery.
It was not that he did not have time, but that he had been avoiding it.
The red light outside the operating room and the doctor's words about "three months at most" had stayed with him, and even though he had paid for the surgery and changed the outcome, the fear of almost losing her had never fully faded.
He had not been ready to confirm it.
Not ready to open that door and see whether she was really still there.
Once the thought surfaced, he could not push it away again.
Ethan picked up his keys without hesitation and left.
The road was not crowded, and streetlights passed one after another, yet his mind was unusually quiet, free from numbers, messages, or opponents, holding only one memory that remained sharp.
That night, he could not even afford thirty-seven dollars.
Now, his account held more than enough to change everything.
But he knew that some things could never be replaced by money.
The hospital corridor was the same as before, cold and white, with the faint scent of disinfectant that made people instinctively lower their voices.
Ethan stopped outside the ward and held the doorknob, but for a few seconds, he did not push it open.
The hesitation felt strangely familiar, like the moment he had waited outside the operating room days ago.
Back then, he had been waiting for an outcome.
Now, he was afraid to confirm one.
After a brief pause, he pushed the door open gently.
The room was quiet, filled only with the steady rhythm of medical equipment, and soft light filtered in through the half-open curtain, falling across the bed.
His mother was sitting up, slowly drinking water.
Her face was still pale, but she was awake, steady, and real.
Ethan stood at the doorway, unable to move for a moment, as something that had been tightly held inside him finally loosened.
She looked up and saw him.
"You're here?"
Her voice was soft but clear.
Ethan nodded, but his throat tightened, and he did not walk over immediately, instead standing there for a few seconds longer as if making sure the moment was real.
She frowned slightly, her tone carrying familiar concern.
"Why are you standing there? Come here."
That simple sentence finally moved him.
Ethan walked over and sat down beside the bed, slower than usual, noticing that his hands were slightly cold and his breathing not entirely steady.
"Why aren't you saying anything?" she asked, looking at him with confusion.
Ethan forced a small smile, though it came out a little delayed.
"It's nothing… I just wanted to see you."
Even he was slightly surprised by his own words.
She paused for a moment and then let out a soft sigh, her voice gentler.
"It's not like I disappeared."
She said it casually.
But Ethan lowered his gaze, because he knew how close that had been to the truth.
The room fell quiet for a moment.
She reached out and gently patted the back of his hand, her movement slow but reassuring.
"Don't worry so much. I'm fine now."
Ethan nodded, his chest tightening slightly before he steadied himself.
"You don't have to worry about money anymore," he said softly but firmly.
She looked at him, clearly surprised.
"Where did you get that kind of money?"
Ethan did not explain much.
"I earned it."
She studied him for a few seconds, then did not press further and simply said, "Don't take the wrong path."
That sentence, simple as it was, eased something inside him.
"I won't," he replied seriously.
She looked at him again, then smiled faintly.
"You've grown up."
Ethan did not respond, only lowering his head slightly with a quiet smile, feeling for the first time that everything he had done over the past few days finally had meaning.
A knock came from outside, and a nurse informed him that someone was looking for him.
Ethan stepped out into the corridor and saw a familiar yet slightly distant figure standing at the far end.
The man wore worn-out clothes, his shoes still damp, and his posture carried a hint of hesitation.
"Ethan?" the man called, unsure.
Ethan looked at him for a moment before smiling.
"Jason."
It was his old delivery partner, someone who had once shared the same long days, heavy rain, and cheap meals at the roadside.
Jason stepped closer but still seemed a little uneasy.
"I saw your video… you're really doing that well now?"
His tone held both surprise and distance.
Ethan did not explain anything and simply patted his shoulder.
"Let's eat."
His voice was casual, just like before.
Jason hesitated.
"Now?"
Ethan nodded.
"My treat."
He turned and walked toward the elevator as if nothing had changed.
Jason stood there for a moment, his eyes suddenly stinging, then followed without asking anything more.
Rain continued to fall outside, stretching the city lights into long reflections, while the city remained as lively as ever.
But for the first time, as Ethan walked ahead, something inside him finally slowed down.