Stephen stood by the door, watching as Victor’s car grew smaller in the distance. The rumble of the engine slowly faded, leaving nothing but the usual quiet that hung around the small neighborhood. He let out a breath, resting his hand on the doorframe. The last two months had been tough—tougher than he ever imagined.Without the system—the network of contacts and favors that once made his life easy—Stephen had to figure out a way to survive on his own. And it wasn’t glamorous. Every day was a grind, a constant scramble for enough money to cover the basics. Work wasn’t easy to come by, not when you’d burned as many bridges as he had. But he’d managed to find some odd jobs here and there—just enough to scrape by, though never enough to truly get ahead.He closed the door softly, the sound echoing through the small room. Glancing around the cramped space, he couldn’t help but think of the penthouse he once called home. The stark difference between his old life and this one weighed on hi
Stephen sat in the corner of a dimly lit café, staring out the window. He had sat there for hours, sipping cold coffee and watching the rain trickle down the glass. The café wasn't crowded-just a few people scattered about, lost in their conversations. His foot tapped impatiently under the table. Enoch was late. Very late.The waiter had been by twice, offering Stephen polite smiles, asking if he needed anything else. Each time, he waved him off, too intent on what was to come. His mind was reeling, questions, doubts, and a growing sense of frustration building inside him. Enoch was never this late.The doorbell above the entrance jingled, and Stephen looked up. His heart stopped at the sight of Enoch stepping inside, shaking rain from his coat. He glanced briefly around the room before his eyes fell upon Stephen, and he hastened to him, an apologetic smile on his face."Sorry to have kept you waiting," Enoch said, reaching for the chair opposite of Stephen.Stephen did not say anythi
Stephen sat in the corner of a dimly lit café, staring out the window. He had sat there for hours, sipping cold coffee and watching the rain trickle down the glass. The café wasn't crowded-just a few people scattered about, lost in their conversations. His foot tapped impatiently under the table. Enoch was late. Very late. The waiter had been by twice, offering Stephen polite smiles, asking if he needed anything else. Each time, he waved him off, too intent on what was to come. His mind was reeling, questions, doubts, and a growing sense of frustration building inside him. Enoch was never this late. The doorbell above the entrance jingled, and Stephen looked up. His heart stopped at the sight of Enoch stepping inside, shaking rain from his coat. He glanced briefly around the room before his eyes fell upon Stephen, and he hastened to him, an apologetic smile on his face. "Sorry to have kept you waiting," Enoch said, reaching for the chair opposite of Stephen. Stephen did not say an
Stephen sat in the corner of a dimly lit café, staring out the window. He had sat there for hours, sipping cold coffee and watching the rain trickle down the glass. The café wasn't crowded-just a few people scattered about, lost in their conversations. His foot tapped impatiently under the table. Enoch was late. Very late. The waiter had been by twice, offering Stephen polite smiles, asking if he needed anything else. Each time, he waved him off, too intent on what was to come. His mind was reeling, questions, doubts, and a growing sense of frustration building inside him. Enoch was never this late. The doorbell above the entrance jingled, and Stephen looked up. His heart stopped at the sight of Enoch stepping inside, shaking rain from his coat. He glanced briefly around the room before his eyes fell upon Stephen, and he hastened to him, an apologetic smile on his face. "Sorry to have kept you waiting," Enoch said, reaching for the chair opposite of Stephen. Stephen did not say an
Stephen sat in the corner of a dimly lit café, staring out the window. He had sat there for hours, sipping cold coffee and watching the rain trickle down the glass. The café wasn't crowded-just a few people scattered about, lost in their conversations. His foot tapped impatiently under the table. Enoch was late. Very late. The waiter had been by twice, offering Stephen polite smiles, asking if he needed anything else. Each time, he waved him off, too intent on what was to come. His mind was reeling, questions, doubts, and a growing sense of frustration building inside him. Enoch was never this late. The doorbell above the entrance jingled, and Stephen looked up. His heart stopped at the sight of Enoch stepping inside, shaking rain from his coat. He glanced briefly around the room before his eyes fell upon Stephen, and he hastened to him, an apologetic smile on his face. "Sorry to have kept you waiting," Enoch said, reaching for the chair opposite of Stephen. Stephen did not sa
Stephen crouched among the shards of the once elegant kettle, its ceramic pieces reflecting his fractured self-esteem. Marianne towered over him, her eyes alight with the fire of scorn.“You can’t even make a simple cup of tea without causing a disaster,” she sneered, her voice dripping with disdain. “What’s next, Stephen? Will you burn the house down trying to fry an egg?”Stephen’s hands trembled as he gathered the broken fragments, his silence a feeble shield against her barbs.“Look at you,” Marianne continued, her words like daggers. “Sitting at home all day, contributing nothing but mess and trouble. You’re not the man I married.”He wanted to defend himself, to tell her that he was trying, that the job market was tough, but the lump in his throat held his words captive.“Pathetic,” she spat out, turning away with a huff, leaving Stephen amidst the ruins of his pride and their kettle.Stephen's sigh melded with the clink of ceramic shards as he knelt on the unforgiving kitchen f
Stephen's confusion grew, but the old man simply laughed harder, turning on his heel and scampering away with surprising agility. Stephen watched him go, a frown creasing his brow. When he looked down, he noticed a flyer on the doormat. It was a job vacancy for a laundry man, the kind of position he had never considered before. He picked up the flyer, the paper rough against his injured hand. Maybe this was it, the opportunity he needed. Stephen let out a long sigh, a sound that carried the weight of his struggles and the flicker of newfound hope. He would apply for the job. Stephen walked back home, the night air cool on his face. He had a job now, and he couldn't wait to tell Marianne. But the house was dark; she wasn't there. He called her, once, twice, but no answer. Finally, she picked up. "Why are you calling so much?" Marianne's voice was sharp, annoyed. "I got a job, at a laundry place," Stephen said, trying to keep the happiness in his voice. She sighed loudly. "Goo
Stephen's head hung low, the weight of Victor's words and the laughter of the crowd crushing him. Just then, the door swung open, and in walked Marianne's parents with Mr. Lee, the family lawyer, in tow."Hope we're not interrupting anything," Marianne's father said, his eyes landing on Stephen with a look of disdain."Give him the papers," Marianne's mother instructed Mr. Lee with a wave of her hand."Papers? What papers?" Stephen's voice was barely a whisper, confusion etched on his face.Mr. Lee approached Stephen and handed him an envelope. With trembling hands, Stephen opened it to find divorce papers staring back at him."What's this? A divorce?" Stephen stammered, his heart sinking.Marianne stepped forward, her voice firm. "I can't do this anymore, Stephen. I won't be trapped in a hopeless marriage.""But... but why?" Stephen's voice broke."I'm marrying Victor," Marianne declared, her decision final.The room fell silent, the gravity of her words settling like dust after a st