Caleb Kaidon jerks awake, his breath coming in sharp gasps. Sweat beads on his forehead, his fingers gripping the sheets tightly. The nightmare again. The same one. The impact, the blinding pain, the world tilting, and the sensation of falling. But no matter how many times he relives it in his dreams, the face remains a blur. The one who pushed him. The one who stole everything from him.
A knock on the door pulls him back to the present. "Sir? Are you awake?" The familiar deep voice of his bodyguard, Adrian, reaches through the thick silence of the room.
Caleb swallows, steadying his breathing before answering, "Come in."
Adrian steps inside, his sharp eyes scanning Caleb's face. "Another nightmare?" he asks, though he already knows the answer.
Caleb simply nods, brushing a hand through his tousled hair. "It's fine."
Adrian doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't push further. "Do you still want to go to university today?"
Caleb glances at the wheelchair beside his bed. There was a time when he would have laughed at the idea of being asked such a question. Before. Before the accident, before the pitying looks, before the whispers behind his back.
But now, he just nods. "Yeah."
—
The university halls buzz with life, students chatting, books clutched in their arms, laughter spilling through the corridors. Caleb barely acknowledges any of it as Adrian pushes him forward, his presence enough to part the crowd. People stare, but he has long since stopped caring.
As they reach the main building, two familiar figures approach him. Olivia, the class monitor, and Sophia, one of the few genuinely kind people in the university. Olivia smiles warmly. "Caleb, we were looking for you!"
Sophia leans forward slightly. "The football team needs you, Caleb. The new coach isn't working out, and the team is in chaos. We thought… maybe you could help? Even as a coach?"
Caleb stares at them for a long moment. The football team. His team. The field that once felt like home now feels like a distant dream. A cruel reminder of what he lost.
He exhales softly, then nods. "Take me to the field."
Adrian pushes him toward the playground, where the team is already gathered, whispering among themselves. A familiar figure steps forward, a wide grin on his face. Jason. One of the friendlier teammates. "Caleb! Man, we really need your help. If we lose this next match, we're done for. You're the only one who can make sense of this mess."
Before Caleb can respond, a sharp laugh cuts through the air. "Oh, look who decided to grace us with his presence. The great 'Bird in Field'—except, oops, he can't fly anymore."
Max.
Caleb keeps his face blank, but Adrian stiffens beside him. The bodyguard moves in a flash, grabbing Max by the collar and shoving him back. "Say that again, and I'll make sure you regret it."
Max chuckles darkly, unfazed. "What? Can't handle the truth? It must be so frustrating, huh? Watching us play while you sit there, useless."
Caleb's fingers tighten around the arms of his wheelchair. But his voice, when it comes, is cold and controlled. "Adrian. Let him go."
Adrian hesitates but finally releases Max with a sharp shove. Caleb doesn't spare another glance at Max before turning to Jason. "Practice hard. You have a match to win."
And with that, he signals Adrian to take him away.
—
The evening air is cool against Caleb's skin as he sits alone in his room, the glow of the television casting soft shadows on the walls. Football news plays in the background, but his mind is elsewhere.
The call startles him. He blinks, grabbing his phone. Jason's name flashes on the screen.
"Hello?"
Jason's voice is breathless, urgent. "Caleb… Max had an accident. A brutal one."
A silence stretches between them. Caleb's hand slowly lowers from his ear, resting against his mouth. He should feel shocked. Worried. Horrified.
But instead, an unfamiliar warmth spreads through his chest.
His lips part slightly as a quiet thought echoes in his mind.
Why am I feeling so good?
The screen of the television flickers, the commentator announcing the latest scores, but Caleb isn't listening anymore. He sits still, his fingers tracing over the fabric of his pants where his legs used to be, his heart pounding in a rhythm he can't quite decipher.
And outside, in the dark streets, someone watches.
Smiling.