Ethan sat alone on the rooftop terrace, the distant hum of the city below filling the silence. The air was crisp, the faint scent of rain clinging to the breeze. It was one of those rare moments of stillness, the kind he had learned to treasure during his years as a delivery driver. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, and let his mind wander back to those days—the days that shaped him in ways he was only now beginning to understand.
---
He remembered one delivery in particular. It had been a sweltering summer afternoon, and he'd been stuck in traffic for nearly an hour, balancing a precarious stack of orders on the seat beside him. Sweat trickled down his back as he cursed under his breath, praying the food wouldn't spoil before he could get it to the customer.
When he finally arrived at the address, a small, rundown apartment building, he was greeted by a frazzled-looking woman holding a crying toddler on her hip.
"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "I didn't realize how late it was."
Ethan forced a smile, handing over the food. "No worries. It's been a long day for both of us, I think."
She gave him a weary but grateful look. "Thank you. For being kind. It's been… tough."
It wasn't the first time he'd encountered someone struggling, but something about her tone stuck with him. He'd walked away that day with a heavy heart, wondering how many others were just barely getting by, clinging to the kindness of strangers to make it through.
---
Then there was the time he'd delivered to a high-rise downtown, a building so pristine it had made him feel like an intruder just stepping inside. He'd marveled at the sleek, modern design, the people in tailored suits who brushed past him without a second glance.
As he waited for the elevator, a young man in a crisp navy suit had approached, checking his watch and sighing impatiently.
"You're late," the man had said as the elevator doors slid open.
Ethan had frowned. "I'm just the delivery guy, man. I don't control the traffic."
The man had blinked, clearly caught off guard by Ethan's bluntness. Then, to Ethan's surprise, he'd laughed.
"Fair enough," he'd said, stepping into the elevator. "Hang in there. This city's a jungle."
That interaction had stayed with him, too—a reminder that even in the most polished environments, humanity had a way of shining through.
---
These moments, small as they seemed, had become the threads of Ethan's story, weaving together a tapestry of lessons and insights he hadn't realized he was collecting. They'd taught him resilience, empathy, and the importance of finding meaning in the mundane.
---
Back on the rooftop, Ethan pulled out his phone and stared at the screen. He had a message from Lila.
Lila: Meeting tomorrow at 10. Don't be late.
He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Even in her texts, she couldn't help but assert control. But he didn't mind. Lila was a force of nature, and he respected that about her.
As he put his phone away, he thought about how those years as a delivery guy had prepared him for this chapter of his life. They'd given him the tools he needed to navigate Lila's world—a world of high stakes, high expectations, and relentless pressure.
But they'd also given him something else: the ability to stay grounded, to see people for who they were beneath the surface. And that, he realized, was his greatest strength.
Because no matter how far he climbed, no matter how much he achieved, Ethan would always carry those experiences with him—the fragments of his past that had shaped the man he was becoming.