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2024-10-29 19:42:56"Phew!" exclaimed Sultan, wiping the sweat from his brow as he took off his apron and folded it neatly. “And I'm done for the day.”
He turned to his coworker, Jerry, who was standing behind the counter, and tossed him the towel, calling out with a cheerful voice, "Yo! Catch!"
Jerry glared at Sultan, his expression blank, then returned to mixing the cocktail. He didn't even try to catch the towel, which landed on the floor behind the counter with a dull thud.
Sultan shrugged with a smile, not wanting to make a fuss. It was no secret that Jerry wasn't the friendliest person, and he had never bothered to explain why.
But when Sultan once asked him why he was always so cold to him especially, Jerry's reply was blunt and brutal: "You're dumb and act like a fool." The words had stung, and Sultan had never forgotten them.
Despite Jerry's attitude, Sultan always did his best to make their working relationship as smooth as possible. He was determined to be the bigger person.
That day, Sultan was bursting with happiness. It was finally D-Day - the day he had been waiting for.
He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out an envelope and a ring, his heart beating faster. A smile played on his lips as he imagined what was to come.
He tucked the envelope back into his pocket and held the ring tightly in his right fist.
As he strode out of the restaurant, he was about to hail a cab when he realized he didn't have any cash on him. "Oh no!" he groaned, muttering under his breath, "I'll just have to walk all the way."
And so, he began the long journey on foot, his heart full of hope and excitement.
Sultan had walked for what felt like hours when he finally reached his destination: a large hospital. Standing in front of the building, he heard a voice in his head, saying, "Don't ever surprise visit me, I don't like it! Let me know when you're coming!"
He chuckled, remembering his girlfriend's nagging words. Taking out his phone, he found her contact, saved as "My Shining Star" with three red heart emojis beside it.
Sultan tapped the call button, and the phone rang loudly in his ear. His heart was racing, a jumble of emotions swirling inside him. He felt excited, anxious, and hopeful all at once.
After a few rings, the call went unanswered. Sultan tried again, but it went straight to voicemail. He shrugged, trying to keep his disappointment at bay. "Oh well," he thought. "I'll just go in and see her."
He put his phone back in his pocket and held the ring in his left hand, then started walking toward the hospital entrance. As he approached the door, the receptionist saw him and smiled. "Hi, Sultan!" she said cheerfully. "How's it going?”
The receptionist knew Sultan well - he was a regular visitor at the hospital. In fact, she knew exactly which ward he was headed to and the patient he was going to see. Sultan always took care of the bills and paid for everything related to the patient in the ward. It was clear to her that he cared deeply for the person he was visiting.
"Everything's good," Sultan replied, flashing a wide grin at the receptionist.
The receptionist nodded, thinking to herself, ‘If only he weren't so poor, he'd be a catch. What a shame.’
Indeed, Sultan was a poor lowlife and there were several things about Sultan's appearance and demeanor that suggested he had experienced some hardships in life. His clothes were worn and a bit threadbare, and his shoes were scuffed and well-worn.
He had a certain air of tiredness about him, as if he had seen and experienced more than his years should have allowed. But his smile was genuine, and his eyes shone with a spark of hope and optimism that belied his circumstances.
He had a pretty girlfriend, a job he was content with, what more could he ask for?
"How's your day been?" the receptionist asked, her tone friendly and inviting. She leaned forward on the counter, genuinely interested in what he had to say.
"It's been okay," Sultan replied, his smile still in place. "Just the usual, you know?"
"You're always so upbeat, no matter what's going on," the receptionist observed. "I admire that."
"I try to find the positive in every situation," he said with a shrug. "Life's too short to dwell on the negative, right?”
The receptionist nodded, a thoughtful look on her face. "You have a very healthy perspective on life, Sultan," she said. "Not everyone can say the same, especially when they are in your shoes. Do you mind if I ask what's kept you so positive through everything?"
Sultan's smile softened as he considered her question. "Aside from my girlfriend…. I guess it's because I know what it's like to be at rock bottom," he said quietly. "I've been through some tough times, and I know how easy it is to get stuck in that negative headspace. But I also know that there's always a way out.”
The receptionist listened intently, nodding along as he spoke. "Thank you for sharing that with me. And I never knew you had a girlfriend," she said.
Sultan blushed, a genuine look of admiration for his girlfriend on his face. "Well, I do. I better get going," he said.
He gave her a friendly wave as he turned to leave. "Have a great day, and take care of yourself!"
"You too, Sultan!" the receptionist called after him, a smile on her lips. She watched him walk away, feeling glad to have had a good conversation with him for the very first time aside from other times.
Sutton's heart pounded in his chest as he reached the door with the number 109 on it. This was the moment he had been dreading and anticipating for weeks. Behind that door was his girlfriend, and he was about to ask her the most important question of his life.
His hand trembled as he opened his palm to reveal the ring, its brilliant gemstone glinting in the light.
The ring was unlike any he had ever seen. It was a deep, shimmering purple, with intricate gold filigree encircling the band.
At first glance, it could be mistaken for a child's plaything, but upon closer inspection, it exuded a mysterious, otherworldly quality. It seemed to glow with its own inner light, captivating anyone who looked upon it.
The origins of the ring were shrouded in mystery. It was unlike anything found in a jewelry store, its purple stone and intricate design seemingly from another world. And yet, Sultan dared not reveal its secrets to anyone. He cherished the ring, and hoped that the person to whom he would present it would value it as much as he did.
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"Greetings and peace be unto here,” a bewitching voice slurred from the entrance.The atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically as Sullivan walked in. The cameras, previously focused on Sultan and the Watson family, swung towards the door, capturing every step of the president's son. The reporters, eager for a scoop, rushed forward, their microphones thrust out and voices overlapping in a chaotic symphony of questions and praises."Mr President's son! Over here!""Mr. Sullivan, can we get a comment?""How do you feel about the recent developments? And do you have a hand in the help of the Watsons to resolve their issues?""Why are you here today?”Sullivan, dressed in a sharp suit that seemed to glow with authority, acknowledged the cameras with a nod and a charismatic smile. His presence commanded attention, and the room seemed to hold its breath.Mr. and Mrs. Watson, along with Emmet, looked genuinely happy. They exchanged glances, then moved quickly to greet Sullivan and his ent
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As Joe Armstrong's car sped away from Emmett, he took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the conversation that had just transpired. But instead of heading straight to the office, he made a subtle turn back towards the previous location. Once out of sight, Joe pulled over and quickly exited his vehicle. He glanced around cautiously, ensuring no one was observing him.A short distance away, a larger, luxurious gold-colored Venza awaited him. Joe approached the vehicle, his demeanor shifting from casual to serious. He opened the rear door and slipped inside, immediately bowing his head. In the plush back seat, a man dressed in a striking gold suit sat with an air of authority. His presence was commanding, exuding a quiet, menacing power. This was Sullivan, a figure who rarely showed his face but whose influence was deeply felt.Joe greeted him respectfully, "Greetings, Master."Sullivan, without looking up from the tablet he was holding, acknowledged Joe's presence with a slight n