Clein stares at the floor, his mind racing as he tries to find a way to balance his job with this new opportunity. The weight of the decision presses on his chest, making him feel trapped. Sitting alone in the restaurant, he looks up at the ceiling, his hands tightly gripping his chest as if to calm the storm inside him. His phone rings, snapping him out of his thoughts. He hesitates before answering.
"Mom?" he says cautiously.
On the other end, his mother's voice is warm and cheerful. "Oh, Clein, my son! How are you?"
Clein, feeling the tension in his shoulders, replies awkwardly, "Yeah, Mom, everything's fine. I'm just... managing things."
His mother's unwavering confidence in him catches him off guard. "Oh, I know my son can handle anything, no matter how tough it gets."
Clein's surprise lingers. "You really think that, Mom?"
"Of course," she continues with pride in her voice. "You've always been able to do what others can't. Whether it's getting through tough times or following your passion for acting—you're made for great things."
Clein smiles faintly, her words bringing comfort. "Mom, it's like you always know exactly what to say when I call you."
She laughs gently. "Because I'm always with you, no matter what."
Clein clenches his hands, feeling a mix of emotions. "Mom, I'm struggling with something—work-related. I don't know if either path will work out. There's no guarantee."
"Follow your heart, son," his mother advises. "It doesn't matter if there's no guarantee. What matters is that you choose what feels right to you. That way, no matter what happens, you won't regret it."
Clein's smile broadens, and his heart feels lighter. "Thanks, Mom. I needed to hear that."
"Then go, don't waste time," she encourages, her voice firm but loving.
With a newfound resolve, Clein closes his computer, grabs his coat, and says to himself, "I'm going."
He walks away from the office, breaking through the darkness that once suffocated him. He's running now—running away from the confinement of his job, leaving his unfinished work behind. His colleagues watch in confusion as he sprints toward something they can't understand, but for Clein, it's freedom.
As he reaches the restaurant, it feels grand, almost like a mansion. The walls are adorned with elegant decorations, the dining tables set with pristine care, and even the waiters seem refined—so much more than Clein ever felt he was. Yet, despite the grandeur around him, Clein doesn't feel out of place. He knows why he's here. He knows what he's about to do.
Clein grips his wrist with his left hand, tapping his right leg nervously as he adjusts his tie. He sits up straight, taking a deep breath before noticing James approaching the table. Clein quickly stands, offering a hesitant smile.
"Hi, James," he says.
James eyes him up and down, visibly shocked. "What's happened to you? You look exhausted—your shirt, your tie, your hair, even your face... is everything okay? You don't look great."
Clein laughs awkwardly. "Yeah, just trying to get by, you know... especially after that audition."
James sighs, shaking his head. "That audition… Such a life-changer for some people. Look at Jenny, she's doing amazing as an actress now."
Clein lowers his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. James gestures to the table. "Come on, sit down, let's talk."
As they sit, Clein manages to say, "You're living a good life too, right?"
James smiles, almost boastful. "Yeah, honestly. I've got everything I wanted—a big house, a car I've always dreamed of…"
James' words start to blur for Clein. He hears fragments, random echoes of James' voice, but his mind drifts, his fingers clenching tightly. The world feels distant and unreal until James snaps him back.
"Hey! Are you with me? You're zoning out," James says, waving his hand.
Clein shakes his head, smiling awkwardly. "No, no, I'm here, just listening."
James nods, relaxing a bit. "Alright, let's get to the point. My producer and director are looking for fresh talent, a new star. I recommended you. It's the chance you've been waiting for—years now, right? It's all in your hands. You'll have to pass an audition. I know that word brings back tough memories for you, but this is different. This could be your big break."
Clein takes a deep breath. "An audition? Yeah... I'm ready for it. That's why I'm here."
James smiles approvingly. "Good. I like that attitude. Your audition is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. A cab will pick you up."
Clein nods. "Got it. Thanks, James."
As James stands to leave, he gives Clein a reassuring look. "Look, I know we haven't seen each other in a long time. I would have liked to catch up more, but you know how busy I am with work. Hope you understand."
Clein smiles, a bit strained but genuine. "Yeah, I get it. Don't worry about me."
James smiles back. "Alright then. Good luck, Clein." And with a final nod, he walks away.
As Clein gathers his things, he hears James say, "Don't worry, I'm paying the bill. It's on me after so long since we last met."
Clein pauses, casting a sideways glance at James. "He's trying to buy our friendship with money," Clein thinks to himself. "His words… they're different somehow. Not his tone or his body language, but the way he speaks—like he's somehow above me."
Clein grips his bag tightly, pushing back the frustration that's bubbling up inside. Without another word, he nods politely, then turns and heads for the exit, feeling the weight of every step as he walks away. The encounter leaves a faint, lingering bitterness in his chest, a reminder of how time—and success—can change people.