Bernard's grip on the edge of the roof was failing, his fingers aching and trembling. Jiawei's voice had been shouting in his ear, urging him to pull himself up, but now Bernard could feel his strength fading fast. His knuckles had turned white from the effort, and his entire body was shaking. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he tried to focus, but the weight of the situation was closing in.
Suddenly, Jiawei's voice shifted. The encouragement disappeared, replaced by something much darker.
"You know what, Bernard?" Jiawei snarled. "I've had enough of your nonsense. First, you say you can do it, now you're giving up. You're a weak man. I expected more from you."
Bernard, clinging desperately to the edge, gritted his teeth. "Diam la! Stop talking and help me, Jiawei! I can't hang on much longer!" His voice was panicked, his body shaking from exhaustion.
But instead of offering help, Jiawei's voice turned cruel. "I don't help quitters. You're nothing, Bernard. Weak. Old. I hope you fall. But you know what? This gives me an idea."
Bernard's eyes widened in panic as he saw Jiawei—a young man with wild, green-dyed hair, tan skin, and long, baggy blue pants with a tiger design on the upper right leg—step closer from the roof's edge. Jiawei had no shirt on, his bare feet moving soundlessly across the surface. His presence, though invisible to everyone else, was all too real to Bernard.
"Wait... Jiawei? What are you doing?" Bernard's voice quivered as he watched Jiawei's smirking face.
Without another word, Jiawei lifted his foot and stomped hard on Bernard's right hand. Pain shot through Bernard's arm as he lost grip with one of his hands, leaving him hanging on by the other. His voice came out in a terrified scream.
"Someone stop him! Quick!" Bernard shouted at the top of his lungs, his eyes darting wildly, searching the crowd for help.
But no one moved. The crowd below looked up at him, confused. There was no Jiawei for them to see, just an old man yelling at no one. People started murmuring among themselves, their phones still raised, recording the bizarre scene.
"Why is nobody helping?!" Bernard screamed again, desperation clawing at his voice as his grip continued to slip.
Suddenly, from his right, he heard a familiar voice cutting through the haze of panic.
"Dad! Grab onto the ladder!"
Bernard turned his head to see a ladder positioned beside him, the sturdy metal extending up to the edge of the roof. He blinked in confusion, unsure of where it had come from, but then heard Nathan's voice again.
"Hurry, Dad! Before you fall—grab the ladder!"
Without a second thought, Bernard released his remaining grip on the roof and lunged for the ladder, grabbing onto it with both hands. His body jerked from the movement, but he managed to secure his footing. Slowly, shakily, he began to climb down, each step feeling like a lifetime. When his feet finally touched the ground, Bernard collapsed to his knees, panting and drenched in sweat.
Nathan rushed over and pulled him up, his face tight with concern. "Are you alright, Dad?"
Bernard nodded weakly, but his face was pale. "Jiawei… he tried to kill me," he muttered, looking up at the roof as if expecting Jiawei to be standing there, grinning. "We need to take legal action against him! He tried to make me fall."
Nathan stared at his father, momentarily stunned by the intensity in Bernard's eyes. His heart ached, knowing that Jiawei was just another manifestation of his father's illness. He sighed, resting a hand on Bernard's shoulder. "We'll deal with that later, Dad. Right now, let's just get home."
Bernard hesitated, looking around at the crowd that had gathered. People were still recording, whispering among themselves, but the thrill of the spectacle had waned. Some looked disappointed, others bemused by the sudden end to what they thought would be a display of an epic performance. Reluctantly, Bernard nodded. "Alright... alright, let's go."
As they turned to leave, the crowd started to murmur louder. Then came the boos. At first, it was just a few, but soon it spread throughout the group.
"That was a waste of time!" one person shouted.
"Is that all? I thought we'd at least get to see him fall!" another voice jeered.
Nathan felt the anger rising in his chest. His fists clenched at his sides as he turned back to face them, his voice filled with bitterness. "There's nothing amusing about this! You people disgust me!" His words cut through the crowd, silencing some of the boos. He was shaking with frustration, disgusted that these people had come to watch his father, treating his illness like some kind of twisted entertainment.
Turning back to Bernard, Nathan took a deep breath. "Let's go, Dad. You can ride behind me," he said, his voice softer now. They began walking toward the tricycle when Nathan suddenly froze.
One of the customers had grabbed the tricycle and was running off with it.
Nathan's eyes narrowed. "You've got to be kidding me." He felt the urge to call the police, to chase after the guy, but before he could do anything, the thief's foot caught on a loose piece of pavement. The man went sprawling forward, face-planting into the ground with a loud thud. The tricycle flew out of his hands, bouncing once before it skidded into the road—right in the path of a speeding car.
The sound of crunching metal echoed through the street as the car smashed into the tricycle, sending pieces of it flying in all directions. The brightly colored tricycle, once a symbol of hope for a quick ride home, was now reduced to a pile of mangled parts.
Nathan stood there, staring at the shattered remains of the tricycle, feeling a mixture of disbelief and resignation. "Never mind," he muttered. "Looks like we're walking home, and it also looks like Aisha's charging me for that."
Bernard, still shaken from the rooftop incident, glanced at the destroyed tricycle and then at his son. "Who is Aisha?" he asked, his voice tinged with guilt. "She lent that to you?"
Nathan rubbed the back of his neck, sighing heavily. "We'll deal with it tomorrow. For now… let's just gather as many pieces as we can and take them with us."
Father and son bent down, picking up the broken shards of the tricycle from the road. Nathan grabbed a handful of pieces. Bernard, his hands trembling slightly, picked up a twisted piece of metal and handed it to Nathan. "Do you think she'll be angry?"
Nathan shook his head. "I don't know, Dad. But we'll figure it out." He straightened up, glancing at the pile of pieces they had managed to salvage. "Come on, let's go. I'll explain everything to her tomorrow."
As they began their slow walk home, Nathan couldn't help but wonder how Aisha would react when she saw the wreckage of her tricycle. Would she be understanding?