The hospital room felt too small for the amount of relief that exploded when Salim opened his eyes.
Elian had been slumped in the chair by his brother's bed for hours, red-eyed but awake. Rayzel had stepped out to speak with a nurse when it happened—Salim blinked, slowly, then all at once. Alive. Awake.
"Elian!" someone shouted.
Rayzel was the first to burst in, followed by a nurse, then another. Within moments, it became a scene: voices rising, arms around shoulders, tearful laughs.
Salim blinked through it all, stiff, silent, unmoved.
Elian hugged him tightly. Rayzel squeezed his other hand. The nurses whispered the word 'miracle.'
Still, Salim didn't smile. He didn't speak.
"Are you okay, Salim?" Elian asked finally, pulling back just enough to look at his brother's face.
The silence dragged.
Then Salim whispered, "I'm fine."
But it was a lie—transparent and sharp.
His eyes didn't shine. His face was pale and empty. His legs wouldn't move. His arm was in a sling, his teeth felt like they didn't belong in his mouth, and deep down, a part of him hated that he'd come back.
He hated the body he was stuck in now.
His perfection was gone—his symmetry, his strength. All of it.
Salim had always lived for precision, balance, elegance. His was a beauty people paused to look at. It wasn't just vanity—it was who he was.
Now, he couldn't even walk.
They hadn't yet told their mother.
How could they? Their last conversation had been simple: she was preparing for the wedding, asking all of them to come home
Now this?
They had tried to think of a lie. A kitchen accident, maybe. A fall. But how did you explain the crutches, the broken teeth, the sling, and the hollow behind Salim's eyes?
It didn't make sense. And the truth was even worse.
Rayzel's phone rang. He stepped out to take it, mouthing Mom to Elian.
"Rayzel, I'd like to see you tomorrow," their mother said. Her voice was calm, but with that edge of worry that made Rayzel's heart thud. "Also, have you spoken to Salim and Elian? They haven't returned my calls."
Rayzel hesitated. "They're okay, Mom. We've just been...dealing with something. Elian came in for a visit, and they had a fight, but—"
"You're not telling me something."
"Mom—"
"I'm calling your father-in-law," she said sharply.
And she did. Mr. Vance—their grandfather—answered on the first ring.
Salim had always been his shadow, following him on trips, meetings, projects. He was the grandson who never missed a flight if Grandpa was going. Elian was the one who stayed behind, the visitor, the quieter one.
She would never believe this was just a fight.
Rayzel turned to Elian, who looked like he'd just swallowed a thousand regrets.
From the phone still in his hand came a soft voice: "I miss you all."
Their little sister, Silver.
Elian's heart pinched.
"Remember you and Salim promised to play dollhouse with me?"
Elian forced a laugh, but it didn't stick.
Salim hadn't said another word.
Later, when the room was quiet again and everyone had gone to find food or rest, Elian sat beside him and watched.
"Salim," he said gently, "it's okay to feel broken. It's okay to be angry."
But Salim said nothing.
Because in his head, he wasn't just broken—he was less.
The doctors had said his legs would need months of therapy. There was nerve damage. The scar across his chin might never fade. And the worst part? He could still hear the crash. Still feel the moment of floating, then pain.
He didn't want to be here. He didn't want people touching him, celebrating like it was over.
It wasn't over.
Not even close.
> Salim turned his face to the window, where the city lights blinked like distant stars.
In a world that praised perfection, he had come back ruined.
And the hardest part?
They all expected him to smile
----
The next morning, Lian woke to the metallic rattle of rain on a tin roof. Not the soft kind that whispered, but the hard, angry kind that felt personal.
She blinked slowly, unsure if she was still dreaming.
Louis was still fast asleep beside her on the thin mattress they'd dragged into the bakery's storage room. It was dry, at least. For now.
Her head ached. Her scalp still stung from the way her aunt had yanked her hair. The uneven bob she'd been left with didn't feel real yet.
She hated mirrors now.
Pulling on an oversized hoodie, she tiptoed outside, letting the rain hit her skin like a reset button.
She needed a job.
She needed money.
She needed out.
She hated her current situation
The bakery manager, Mrs. Harry was already there. She was grumpy on a normal day and terrifying when it rained, but she liked hard workers.
"Come in," the woman said without turning. "Floor needs mopping."
Lian didn't complain. She took the mop and got to work, pushing water around like it mattered.
At least the floor wasn't yelling at her.
Halfway through, someone entered—an older man in a black coat with a golden pin on his collar. He greeted Mrs. Harry with a brief nod and handed her a sealed envelope.
Lian didn't notice at first.
But she noticed when Mrs. Harry turned to her sharply. "You. Clean up, dry off. Someone wants to talk to you."
The office smelled like burnt coffee and cinnamon.
The man looked like he didn't belong anywhere near this street.
"Lian ?" he asked, reading from a folder.
She nodded slowly.
"I represent the Vance Foundation. Our chairman, Mr. Alaric Vance, is also known for investing in young talent. Especially those who… show resilience in the face of hardship."
She frowned. "I don't understand."
"We're offering you an internship. A three-month residential program. Housing, food, and a monthly stipend. Your school records were accessed through a former school administrator. You scored in the top 2% for your region."
Lian blinked.
This had to be a scam.
"Why me?"
The man smiled politely. "That's not for me to answer. But someone saw something. And they chose you."
She returned to the storage room in a daze. Louis was awake now, hugging a small blanket to his chest.
"You okay?" he asked.
She knelt beside him, brushing his hair back gently.
"Something's happening," she whispered. "I don't know if it's good. But I think I have to go."
He frowned. "Will I come too?"
She didn't know.
She didn't have answers.
But maybe—just maybe—this was the start of everything
In another country, Salim Vance sat in silence, staring at the bandages where his strength used to be.
And miles away, Lian clutched an envelope with a future she didn't ask for.
Two broken paths.
Quietly shifting.
Toward collision