Not Anymore

Second waste Chance.

Chris slowly regained consciousness, the haze of sleep lifting as he blinked against the surrounding brightness. Gradually, he became aware of the three figures standing above him. The warm ambiance of the room contrasted sharply with the coolness of the sweat on his forehead.

As his senses sharpened, the faces began to register. Cathy was the first to speak, her voice a mix of relief and excitement. “Oh, he’s awake!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with concern as she gently helped him sit up on the plush couch.

“What happened?” he mumbled, his voice emerging hoarse and gravelly, as if cobwebs had settled in his throat.

“You fainted. We brought you here,” Cathy explained, gesturing toward the two other figures nearby—both men, one with a strong presence and the other more reserved.

His gaze lingered on one of the men—Sheldrick. “Sheldrick?” he called out, the name leaving his lips like a whispered question. The man nodded slowly in response, his expression unreadable.

“Thank you, guys,” Chris said, pushing himself to rise but feeling the weight of exhaustion.

“No, you need to rest first. You aren’t strong enough to move,” Cathy interjected, her tone stern yet filled with care.

“I’m fine, Cathy. I need to get home,” he insisted, his eyes darting to the clock on the wall. The hands seemed to mock him, ticking away precious moments.

The three exchanged concerned glances, frowning at the urgency in his voice.

“Can’t you at least wait a few minutes for your body to gain some strength?” the other man asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

Chris shook his head, determination etched in the lines of his face. “I have to do something... something I cannot miss.” With that, he made another attempt to stand, struggling against the weakness that threatened to pull him back down.

The two men shared a brief, silent conversation through their eyes before stepping forward to assist him, supporting him on either side. “Thank you,” he nodded, gratitude mingled with weariness in his voice.

As they helped him to his feet, he stumbled slightly, nearly losing his balance before correcting himself. “I… I’m okay. I can manage,” he insisted, waving his arms dismissively as if to brush off their concern. Like a marionette with tangled strings, he dragged his body toward the door, fighting against the feeling of fragility that enveloped him.

The three watched him leave, their expressions a mixture of worry and sympathy. It wasn’t until the sound of the door clicking shut that they reacted, snapping back to reality.

“Poor man,” the other man murmured, his voice laden with empathy.

“What a waste of strength and life,” Cathy commented quietly, shaking her head as if the weight of her thoughts were too heavy to bear.

Cedric didn’t speak; he stood rooted in place, staring at the locked door long after Chris had walked through it, as if the mere act of leaving had imprinted a lingering sense of loss within him.

“Let’s go,” Cathy finally suggested, her voice breaking the silence.

As she took a step forward, she noticed that Cedric had not moved. “Hey. Hey?” she called, reaching out to shake him gently.

He seemed to snap out of his trance, looking down at her with a forced smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m okay. Let’s go,” he said, and with a final glance at the door, they left the room together, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging heavily in the air.

Chris stepped outside limping and shuffling his legs about.

He walked out and as soon as he did so, he noticed a scene which made his blood run cold.

Jennifer was getting into her sleek red Ferrari. She winked at a figure standing beside Irene.

It was Marlin, but just before she got into her car, she noticed him and not ready to pass up a chance to humiliate Chris. She smirked and walked out.

Irene, noticing her attention shifting, followed her gaze and her eyes went wide when she saw who.

“Mister Eaton?” As soon as Marlin noticed him, he called out to him.

Chris walked over and stopped a few paces from the bench.

“You are okay?” Irene asked.

“mmh-uhn.” He nodded.

Irene frowned, but before she could express her disregard, Jenny stepped forward.

“Oh, the dead man is back from the land of the living.” She mocked.

Irenes' frown deepened.

“jenny? Stop it!” she snapped.

“what bestie?” she cried.

“Weren’t you going home?” Irene asked, frustrated.

“Mh okay.” She lamented.

“Well, then just leave,” Irene continued.

“Okay then, just take care of Mister Ko tonight.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

“jenny!” irene roared.

“Okay, okay.” She turned to Chris and, upon noticing his dazed expression, smirked.

“Shocked?” she mumbled.

Chris ignored her and kept his eyes locked onto Irene.

“You want to bring him to the house?” he asked in disbelief.

She frowned, “Yeah I am. How has that got anything to do with you? You are just my homeless employee, now behave yourself?” she snapped.

Chris opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. He saw the resolve in her face and lowered his head.

“Homeless employee?” he mumbled.

“Yeah, you heard her, beat it, homeless creep,” said Jenny, never daring to miss a moment as this one chimed in to swirl the situation further.

“Homeless employee, right, thanks boss.” He bowed to the woman, who just stared back at him in disbelief.

Irene stared at him as she thought, “Why does he look so calm? He would have gotten mad in the past. What's going on with him nowadays?”

“goodbye, sister Eaton,” Marlin said.

He nodded.

Chris was rooted there watching as they got into the car and sped away.

After a long time, he let out a deep sigh.

“You were right, mom,” he mumbled.

“I was blind, that two chances eighty to go.” He thought.

Chris glanced around the empty parking lot, the darkness of the night wrapping around him like a heavy blanket. Most of the employees and guests had already left, and the lone car parked a few meters away was the only sign of life. He felt a wave of disappointment wash over him; at this hour, hailing a taxi would be nearly impossible.

He let out a weary sigh, contemplating his options. “I guess I’ll have to walk home?” he muttered to himself. Just as he turned to head down the sidewalk, a voice called out from behind him.

“Boss, boss!”

Chris recognized the voice instantly without needing to look. He turned to find Cathy sprinting towards him, her cheeks flushed, and a playful grin etched on her face. He raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.

“Cathy?” he called out, an amused look creeping onto his face as she reached him, panting slightly.

With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she shoved him lightly. “I followed you,” she admitted, a hint of defiance in her tone.

Chris sniffed, feigning annoyance. “Well, I guess you heard everything I said back there?” he inquired, half-joking.

“Not really,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively.

He shrugged, finding comfort in her lightheartedness. “It’s okay. It's just that I was about to call it a night, but it looks like I might have a long walk ahead of me.”

Cathy’s expression shifted to one of concern. “Aren’t you going home?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

“Actually, I have no idea how to get there at this hour,” he admitted, frustration seeping into his voice.

“I’ll drive you,” she stated confidently, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up her features.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, surprised by her offer.

“Of course!” she replied, nodding earnestly. “It’s late, and I can’t let you walk home alone.”

Chris hesitated for a moment, the weight of his tiredness pressing down on him, but he quickly recognized the kindness in her offer. “Okay, I guess I could use a ride,” he said with a smile. He fell into step beside her as they walked toward her car, the night air crisp and filled with the sounds of distant city life.

As they reached her vehicle, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over him. Cathy had a way of brightening even the most mundane of situations, and he found himself grateful for her company. The glow of the headlights flickered to life as Cathy unlocked the doors.

“Get in, boss,” she teased, her playful demeanor lightening his mood.

A few yards away, just around the corner, a figure stood shrouded in shadows, his eyes locked onto the two individuals engaged in conversation. The barely discernible features of his face revealed a mix of intrigue and caution, suggesting he had witnessed and overheard every moment of their exchange from the very beginning of the entire ordeal.

If anyone from either group had been present, they might have instantly recognized him. His reputation preceded him, and the air around him crackled with an unspoken tension.

With a slow, deliberate motion, the man shook his head, almost as if to dispel the thoughts rattling in his mind. He deftly tucked away a miniature camera into the folds of his dark coat.

As the night deepened and the world around grew silent and more daunting, the man silently slipped away, merging seamlessly with the encroaching darkness. He moved with the stealth of a shadow, blending into the fabric of the night, leaving no trace of his presence behind. Each step was calculated, as if he were part of the very twilight itself—an unseen observer, carrying secrets that could alter the course of the lives he had watched unfold.