He didn’t argue. Didn’t cry. Just nodded faintly, took the painkillers prescribed, and walked out without asking questions. The sunlight outside felt too bright, too indifferent. By the time he got home, the paper bag in his hand was crumpled, and the ache in his side had returned with a vengeance.
The apartment looked different in daylight. He looked around and realized—he’d built nothing. No house, no savings, not even a car to call his own. Every paycheck had evaporated into music, liquor, and late nights. He hadn’t prepared for a future because he never expected to need one. But now, the bill had arrived—$50,000 and no escape.