"Where am I?" the woman asked, her voice dry and shaky.

The man beside her bed looked relieved to hear her speak. Without hesitation, he pressed the call button on the wall. Within seconds, a doctor entered the room in navy blue scrubs. He came inside bearing a smile.

"She’s awake," the man said quickly.

The doctor stepped forward, checked the monitors beside the bed, adjusted her IV drip, and leaned over to meet her eyes. "Welcome back. You’re in a hospital. You were brought in unconscious. We’re still monitoring you closely. You need to rest while we run some additional tests. Your body needs time to recover."

She gave a weak nod and allowed her eyes to shut for a brief moment. But when she opened them again, blurry images rushed forward, bright headlights, the sound of tires screeching, Amanda’s voice calling out, and the terrifying image of the truck hurtling toward them.

She remembered the incident, how she had turned the steering wheel sharply toward the riverbank, knowing it was their only chance to avoid a direct hit.

She swallowed hard, Amaya. She was all chatting and excited about her wedding dress; she couldn’t wait to see it. Had she made it?

*******************************8

In another part of Los Angeles, a modern home musical studio is situated on the second floor of a large house. The walls were covered with dark soundproof panels, a high-end mixing desk faced a triple monitor setup, and instruments were neatly arranged across one side, guitars hanging like art, and a drum graced the room. A keyboard stood in the center of it all, where Eric sat playing a slow, reflective melody.

He was lost in thought, barely noticing when the door behind him opened.

"I knew I’d find you here, son," a familiar voice said.

Eric stopped playing and looked over his shoulder. "Dad. You should’ve told me you were coming. I would’ve asked the maid to make your favorite meal."

His father smiled briefly but walked straight to the piano and sat beside him.

"I didn’t come here to eat. I’m okay. I came because I’m worried. Sonia told me you ended things again. Three weeks, Eric. Three weeks and you’ve already pushed her away."

Eric sat back, annoyed. "Not this again."

"It’s becoming a pattern, son," his father continued, his tone more patient than angry. "Sonia came from a respectable family. She’s smart, kind, and a successful lawyer. She would’ve been a solid support for you in this industry. Someone to protect your interests. Someone who could help carry the burning fire of that entertainment industry"

"Dad, I’ve told you before. I’m not the relationship type. Marriage isn’t my thing. Sonia was cool, but let’s be honest, would she have looked at me twice if I weren’t famous? No. Just like mom."

His father straightened. "You don’t know that. You keep holding onto the pain your mother caused, but that’s not your future. You don’t have to repeat what happened between us."

Eric looked down, his fingers brushing lightly against the keys again. But this time, no music followed.

***********************

Colorful umbrellas provided shade over long picnic benches, and the smell of sizzling meats and spicy sauces filled the air.

Austin sat at a wooden table, watching life unfold around him. Just a few steps away, two older men were playing checkers on a board that had seen better days. Each move came with a loud slap of the hand and a burst of laughter. At another corner, a group of teenagers passed around a speaker, bobbing their heads to a rap beat.

From the other side of the open place, Erica and Lizzy returned with big smiles and paper trays filled with food.

Lizzy slid into her seat and grinned at him. "Mr. Handsome! Let me guess, this is your first time trying real street food, right? Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. That woman over there…" she pointed to a plump lady still dishing out pasta from a large metal pot, "makes the best street pasta in the whole of East LA. No lies."

Erica was already digging in, spinning noodles with her fork and humming with satisfaction.

"Come on," she said between bites. "It won’t bite. Give it a shot."

Austin looked down at the tray in front of him. It was simple, a generous serving of pasta mixed with grilled sausage, bell peppers, and tomatoes. It didn’t look like anything he’d normally eat.

Still, curiosity won.

He took a bite. Then another.

He blinked. "Hmm... this is good."

Ten minutes later, his tray was spotless.

"Told you!" Lizzy laughed, nudging him. "You’re part of the crew now. Welcome to the flavor gang."

"Careful," Erica added, wagging her fork. "Next thing you know, you’ll be dreaming about street pasta in your sleep."

Austin chuckled. It had been a long time since he’d laughed like that. The food, the noise, the heat, it was all so different from his usual world, but somehow, it felt... good.

****************************

Edwin sat in his office, playing around with the pen in his left hand while using his right hand to hold his phone.

"Don’t worry, Ann," he said into the receiver. "I will find our son."

The door opened behind him.

Becky walked in, her heels making a sound on the floor.. She folded her arms and went closer to him.

"Which son?"