Callum wiped the sweat from his forehead, his muscles aching after another brutal shift at the construction site. His palms aches, covered in fresh blisters from carrying cement bags twice his weight. His boots were coated in dust, and his shirt clung to him, soaked in sweat.
"Callum, you sure you don't wanna grab a drink?" one of the workers, an older man whose appearance was no different from Callum's, called out.
"Can't. Gotta get to the hospital," Callum replied, already rushing toward his bike.
He gripped the envelope in his pocket—his grandmother's final medical payment. Months of breaking his body, of skipping meals, of working inhuman hours, all for this moment.
"Hold on, Grandma. Just a little longer."
He jammed his helmet on and kicked his bike into gear, tearing through the streets, weaving between cars as the city lights flickered on.
The hospital wasn't far, but every red light felt like a curse. His heart pounded as his phone buzzed in his pocket.
He quickly grabbed the phone with one hand while he rode with the other, picking up the call.
[Calling: BABE.]
"Hey," he said with a breaking voice.
"Callum! You haven't sent the money you promised. It's a new semester, and I'll be driven out of school if I don't pay my fees!"
"I understand you, Emily, but at this point I'm trying to provide for my grandmother's surgery bills. Besides, I gave you 2000 dollars last month. That should've covered it," Callum spoke worriedly.
"Really? Two fucking thousand?! How long did you expect that mini-mini amount of money to last for me? And why does it seem like your grandmother is the only person you have in this world? I barely feed, Callum. Just a few days from now and I'll starve to death, yet you're telling me this?"
"Calm down, Emily. You should understand me..." Callum paused and took a rough exhale. "Okay, just hold on, Emily. I'll try to raise some money when I get back from the hospital."
"Be quick with it... Or else I'm gonna just let myself die out here! Bye!"
BEEP!
[CALL ENDED]
Callum frustratingly shook his head and made another exhale, his face showing a clear image of confusion, depression... and frustration.
Upon reaching the hospital, he parked recklessly outside and sprinted in. The receptionist barely had time to glance up before he reached the counter.
"My grandmother—Eleanor Hayes! Room 207!" he gasped, slamming the envelope down.
The nurse hesitated, pity flashing in her eyes.
That look...
He knew little to what that meant.
His stomach twisted...
It was as if a whole pile of chills came crashing down his spine at that moment, and at the same time, time seemed to stop.
"I'm sorry," she said gently. "She passed away an hour ago."
The world stopped.
"No… no, I have the money. I have it right here!" Callum's voice cracked as he opened the envelope, shoving the bills forward like they could somehow bring her back.
Six thousand damned dollars...
He had spent a whole month breaking his back and tearing his skin all to raise enough money for the surgery.
The nurse placed a hand over his, followed by a deep squeeze, but her warmth was clearly unable to pierce the cold reality settling into his bones.
"I'm so sorry, Mister."
His legs nearly gave out. He staggered toward the hallway, down to Room 207, where his grandmother lay motionless in the bed. Peaceful. As if she hadn't suffered for months.
"Grandma…" His voice broke.
He gripped her frail hand, his fingers trembling. She had raised him when no one else would. She had sacrificed everything for him. And in the end… he was too late.
Tears burned his eyes...
He never wanted it to end like this for her after getting so much from her.
He knew she wouldn't have wanted this ending either.
After being dumped by his parents, who divorced and decided to begin a new life without their first product—who they termed to be a "mistake"... his grandma had always been there.
"I... I... I'm so sorry, Grandma... I hate myself for not coming in time... for not showing up when you needed me. And you have always shown up for me anytime... every time. Within the blink of an eye..."
"I hate myself for this, I swear!"
He decided to swallow his tears after a while... after all, his tears wouldn't bring her back.
With an almost crazy stagger, he shuffled out of the room.
....
Hours later, Callum found himself outside a high-end bar, drinking his eyes out in sorrow. You would never see Callum Drey in a bar even once, but today, well, was different.
After all, this was the only thing that could reduce the pain he was feeling.
He needed it.
Just while he drank, he suddenly heard a familiar voice as two figures stepped into the bar. He raised his head up, and what his eyes viewed made him flinch at once.
"Emily?"
It's her!
Callum might have been getting drunk, but nothing could convince him he was wrong. He was sure of what he saw.
He saw her laughing. Smiling like nothing in the world mattered. Walking alongside a man in a tailored suit, his arm draped over her shoulder like it belonged there.
"Damon Carter?"
Son of one of the city's richest men who was schooling in the same campus as Emily.
Callum's heart stopped.
His blood ran cold as Emily leaned, whispering something in Damon's ear before giggling. Her giggle. The one she used to reserve for him.
Rage and heartbreak clashed inside him. His fists clenched. He shouldn't have come.
But then Emily turned—and her expression dropped. She noticed him, no doubt.
"Callum?"
Damon raised an eyebrow, then smirked. "Ah… so this is the guy?"
Callum's breath was heavy, his chest tightening. "Emily… what the hell is this?" Callum asked, rage simmering as he stood up.
She hesitated, but not with guilt. With annoyance.
"Callum… let's not do this here," she sighed and walked closer to his table. "Listen, we need to talk."
"Talk?!" His voice came out raw. "You were supposed to be at the campus. Instead, you're here, with him?"
Damon chuckled. "Relax, man. You're embarrassing yourself."
Callum's hands shook. He wasn't sure if it was from exhaustion, grief, or the sheer betrayal.
"You were all I had left, Emily. I did everything for you!" His voice was barely a whisper. His heart jerked.
She frowned, then looked away. "Callum… you're a good guy, but let's be real. What kind of future do we have? You're stuck breaking your back for pennies, and I—" She gestured to Damon. "I deserve more."
A sharp silence filled the air.
Callum inhaled slowly, his chest burning. Then, he nodded.
"I see," he murmured, stepping back.
"Callum, I—" Emily tried to speak.
He suddenly raised a hand, motioning for silence. He honestly didn't want to hear that voice again.
All his hard labor—he had always tried to give Emily all she wanted. He never even thought of saving a penny... He would always do anything to make Emily happy.
If he had been keeping some money for himself, he surely would have had the money to pay for his grandma's surgery on time.
Callum's body burned with anger as he turned to walk away. His fingers trembled, clenched into tight fists. His chest was heavy, but he refused to let them see him break.
However, behind him, before he could step through the exit, Damon chuckled. Mocking.
"You should've known, man," he said, chewing the gum in his mouth. "Women don't want broke losers."
Callum stopped.
Something inside him snapped like a steel wire pulled too tight.
"Callum, don't—"
Emily knew what was next.
Too late...
Callum swung. He couldn't hold back that rage.
His fist collided with Damon's smug face, sending the rich bastard crashing into a table. Glass shattered. The bar gasped.
Damon groaned, pushing himself up at once, blood dripping from his lip. He wiped it with the back of his hand and laughed.
"You wanna fight? Fine!"
The next moment, Damon lunged.
He tackled Callum, slamming him into a table. Pain exploded in Callum's back, but he barely felt it. He rolled, flipping Damon over, and threw another punch. Damon grunted as Callum's knuckles cracked against his jaw.
"STOP!" Emily screamed.
Damon growled, kneeing Callum in the gut before throwing him off. Callum staggered back, but he wasn't done.
He charged again, his fury drowning out everything.
Damon, however, was ready.
Unaware, a sharp blade suddenly pierced through Callum's belly, halting his charge at once.
A sharp pain ripped through his stomach.
His breath hitched. His body locked up.
Damon stepped back, his hand shaking... a blood-stained knife in his grip.
The entire bar fell into stunned silence.
Callum stumbled. Warmth spread across his shirt. His vision began to blur.
Emily gasped. "D-Damon, what did you—"
"He… He attacked me first," Damon stuttered, his confidence suddenly gone. "I—It was self-defense."
Callum's legs buckled. He fell to his knees. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.
Was this how it ended?
Everything… for nothing?
Darkness swallowed his vision.
And then...
Everything changed.