"Aaron!" Ethan rose, masking his shock. The once-lithe national teammate now carried a father’s paunch, streaks of gray threading his hair.
"Let’s talk inside." Aaron led him to a partitioned room, setting down a snack tray. "Thanks again for the loan."
Ethan’s gaze fixed on Aaron’s gloved right hand. "What happened?"
Aaron hesitated, then peeled off the glove. A prosthetic glinted under synthetic skin. "Last year. A steel frame fell from a building. Kid was underneath." He shrugged. "Instinct kicked in."
Ethan stared.
"Could’ve been my head," Aaron said, forcing a grin. "Lucky trade."
"Why leave the sports bureau?"
"They gave me a desk job after the medal ceremony." Aaron poured water, avoiding eye contact. "10k a month won’t cover Mom’s meds or my kid’s future."
Ethan’s throat tightened. "Anything else I can—"
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
"You’ve done enough." Aaron cut him off. "When’s the wedding?"
"New Year’s. Luna Reed."
"The singer?" Aaron’s eyebrows shot up. "Lucky bastard."
"Advice?" Ethan deflected. "You’re the married expert."
"Was." Aaron’s smile died. "Divorced. Six months ago."
Ethan swallowed the unspoken: The prosthesis. The debt. The slow unraveling.
Later, Riverport City
Aaron pedaled an e-bike through drizzle, groceries swaying in the basket. His penthouse—once a marital trophy—now held echoes: a Level-1 AI nanny, his son Tao glued to a VR headset.
"Dad! I beat level 55!" Tao launched into his arms.
"Genius." Aaron kissed his crown, guilt gnawing. The AI’s monotone updates—Math drills completed. Nutritional intake logged.—only emphasized his absence.
In the kitchen, bills flickered on his wrist display:
- Water: ￥380
- Loan installment: ￥12,000
- Experimental meds: ￥23,000
His mother’s hologram materialized, gaunt and pleading. "Stop the treatments. Let me go."
"Signed a contract. Big pharma gig." The lie tasted metallic.
As pork ribs simmered, Aaron leaned against the fridge. This was my choice. Marriage at 22. Fatherhood over championships. Now, a cautionary tale whispered at national training camps.
Tao’s laughter pierced his reverie. "Smells awesome!"
"Your grandma’s recipe." Aaron stirred the pot, watching grease swirl. Legacy reduced to survival.
High-Speed Rail, Harbor Metropolis
Ethan stared at streaking city lights. Aaron’s prosthetic hand haunted him—a phantom limb of what-ifs. Could I’ve stopped this?
His comms pinged—a news alert: Tiger Shark Group shares plummet 12%.
Irrelevant. All of it.
"Hold on, brother," Ethan whispered to the glass. Some battles weren’t fought with spears.