Morning came like a cruel joke. Mark woke to a sharp, throbbing reality that ripped away the fragile peace of the night before. His foot felt like it had doubled in size, hot, swollen, immovable.
When he tried to shift, even an inch, pain flared up his spine. It wasn't the blinding agony he expected, not the kind that made him scream, but it was wrong. Heavy. Uncooperative. As if his body itself had decided to refuse him.
His mother noticed immediately.
She hovered at his bedside, worry etched deep into her tired face. Without a word, she helped him sit up, her hands gentle, careful, like he might shatter if she touched him too roughly.
She helped him bathe, steadying him when his balance wavered, helping him pull on his clothes, sliding his shoes on with the quiet patience only a mother had. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she examined his swollen ankle.
"We should go to the hospital," she said softly, but there was no room for argument in her voice.
His sister was already gone for school, her laughter from the night before still echoing faintly in his mind like a dream he wasn't sure he deserved.
His mother suggested he call his job, to explain, to ask for leave. Mark nodded his head.
Shortly after, a taxi came. The ride was silent except for the hum of traffic and his mother's occasional glance in his direction, her eyes full of questions she didn't dare ask.
Two hours later, his foot was wrapped in thick white plaster, heavy and foreign. The doctor spoke calmly, professionally, don't strain it, avoid pressure, use the crutches, healing will take time. Mark nodded, barely listening, his thoughts floating somewhere far away.
They stepped into the hospital hallway. That was when he saw her. Elizabeth stood near the OB-GYN section. For a moment, his heart forgot how to beat. She looked… radiant. Healthier than he remembered.
Happy in a way that felt unfamiliar, almost distant. Mark instinctively shrank back, adjusting his crutches, hoping, stupidly, that she wouldn't notice him.
Then he saw him.
Jacob Lim stood beside her, smiling proudly, one arm protectively around her shoulders. In his other hand was a piece of paper, an ultrasound image.
Mark didn't need anyone to explain it to him. The world went silent. The hallway blurred. The chatter of nurses, the squeak of shoes against tile, even his mother's soft gasp beside him, all of it faded into nothingness as realization crashed down on him like a collapsing building.
Pregnant.
His chest tightened. His vision darkened. He had never touched Elizabeth. Never crossed that line. That alone was enough. Pain spread through him again, but this time it had nothing to do with his foot.
It clawed into his chest, tore at his lungs, wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed until breathing felt impossible.
After all this time?
How long had she been cheating? How long had he been loving her alone?
Elizabeth turned her head as if sensing someone was watching her. Their eyes met.
Her smile froze. Her eyes widened, just for a second. Long enough for him to know she recognized him. Long enough for hope to foolishly, painfully spark.
Then she looked away. She smiled again. Not at him. At Jacob Lim. They walked past them as Mark tilted his head so Jacob wouldn't see his face, they passed them without a word.
Elizabeth ignored him and his mother, like she didn't know them. No apology. No explanation. No guilt. Just laughter and quiet joy, disappearing down the hallway together.
Mark stood there, unmoving, crutches digging into his palms, his casted foot heavy and useless beneath him. His mother's hand tightened on his arm, but he barely felt it.
Something inside him cracked. Not loudly. Not dramatically. It broke in silence. The woman he adored. The future he believed in. The love he held onto like it was the only good thing left in his life.
All of it shattered in that hallway. And as he stood there, heart in pieces, staring at the space she had just left behind, Something cold, sharp, and resolute began to form in its place.
*****
The taxi ride home was quiet. The city slid past the windows in blurs of concrete and light, but Mark barely registered any of it.
His crutches rested uselessly beside him, his casted foot elevated on the seat, throbbing faintly, dull now, distant, like a reminder that his body still existed.
His mother sat beside him. She didn't ask what happened. That, somehow, hurt more than any question ever could.
After a long stretch of silence, she spoke softly, her voice careful, almost fragile. "If you're ready to talk about Elizabeth," she said, eyes fixed on the road ahead, "I'm here. I'll listen."
That was all. No accusations. No pressure. No demands.
Just presence. And something inside Mark finally broke. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as he fought the tightness rising in his chest. His vision blurred.
He turned his head toward the window, away from his mother, away from the one person who loved him without conditions.
A single tear slipped free. He didn't wipe it away. The city lights smeared into streaks as another followed, then another, quiet and unstoppable. His shoulders trembled, but he made no sound. He refused to give his pain a voice. Because once he did, he feared he wouldn't survive it.
Then,
DING.
The sound rang inside his skull, cold and mechanical.
[Emotional Trauma Detected]
[Intensity: Severe]
[Trigger: Betrayal / Loss / Psychological Shock]
Blue light flickered faintly in his vision.
[System Compensation Initiated]
[Reward: Pain Suppression (Physical) + Bonus Allocation]
A strange warmth flowed through his injured foot. The pressure eased. The throbbing dulled. The agony that should have been screaming through his nerves softened to a tolerable ache, as if someone had turned down the volume on his suffering.
But his chest. His heart. Nothing changed. The system could mute broken bones. It could reward pain. It could quantify suffering. But it could not touch grief.
It could not mend betrayal. It could not erase the image burned into his mind, Elizabeth smiling, Jacob holding the ultrasound, the future Mark thought was his crumbling into someone else's hands. His tears fell faster.
The system remained silent.
And in that silence, something dark began to take shape. Not despair. Not a weakness.
Resolve.
Mark stared out the window, eyes hollow, reflection staring back at him like a stranger. He thought of every smile that had been fake. Every moment he had been looked down on. Every whisper of poor Mark, pathetic Mark, not good enough.
He thought of Elizabeth.
Of Jacob Lim. Of the world that crushed people like him and called it normal. And bowed to destroy the company who ignored his father's death like they were nothing but specks of dust.
No one pitied the powerful. No one betrayed the rich. And no one dared step on those who stood at the top. His fingers curled slowly into a fist. If pain is the price… Then I'll pay for it.
He would become rich, not for comfort, not for luxury. But for vengeance. For every person who hurt him.
For every person who abandoned him. For every person who smiled while he bled. And when the world finally looked at him again. It wouldn't be with pity. It would be with fear.