·*Forest Hills, Parker's house.*

The fallen leaves in the yard were being swept into a pile, stirring up a slight dust cloud. Peter and Uncle Ben were working together to clean up the yard. As the weather cooled, the number of fallen leaves increased.

"We've been spending a lot lately, and the bills are starting to add up. I didn't expect things to be so expensive, Anna."

In the kitchen, Aunt May was on the phone with her best friend. She closed the refrigerator with a thud, holding her cell phone in one hand and a long bill in the other.

"I know, we're already using credit cards, but that's not a long-term solution. I might have to find a new job," Aunt May said with a sigh, placing the bill on the dining table.

The growing family expenses were causing her stress, and the thought of having to find a job weighed heavily on her mind. Peter, who was outside, overheard Aunt May's conversation. Thanks to the alien gene in his body, his hearing had become much sharper. Even though they were separated by walls and several meters of distance, Peter could clearly hear her voice.

Hearing Aunt May worry about money made Peter frown. He had money he'd stolen from the Hand, but getting Aunt May and Uncle Ben to accept it was going to be a problem.

"Are you sure you're alright, Peter?"

Uncle Ben's voice snapped Peter out of his thoughts. He had just swept up the last of the fallen leaves and now turned his attention to Peter.

"You looked a bit off yesterday at church," Uncle Ben added.

"I'm fine, Uncle Ben," Peter reassured him, thinking up an excuse. "I just had a little trouble breathing. Maybe the air was a bit too stuffy."

Peter didn't want to repeat what had happened with Gwen at the hospital. He had been forced to use the excuse of an "early-stage tumor" to explain his condition. He certainly didn't want Aunt May or Uncle Ben worrying, so he opted for another white lie.

"Maybe everything going on at school has been taking a toll on you," Uncle Ben sighed. "No one wanted to see a tragedy like that happen."

Uncle Ben put down the broom and walked toward Peter. "Do you need to take a break?"

"My stamina's not that bad, Uncle Ben."

"Heh," Uncle Ben chuckled and sat down on the steps of the nearby storage room, stretching a bit.

"My stamina might be weaker than yours these days. I just remembered a funny story, Peter."

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Peter stopped sweeping and listened attentively.

"When I was younger, I hated raking leaves. I would have rather spent my time building model trains. Then one day, I had an idea."

Uncle Ben paused for effect. "If everyone in the neighborhood paid me to rake their leaves, I'd have enough money to buy the train set I wanted."

Peter nodded with a smile. "That's a pretty smart plan."

Unfortunately, Peter wasn't in a position to make money raking leaves, nor did he have the luxury of time. Besides, Aunt May and Uncle Ben would never believe he could earn tens of thousands of dollars by cleaning yards.

"What I'm trying to say, Peter," Uncle Ben said with a warm smile, "is that sometimes hard work can spark new ideas."

Peter nodded slightly in response and returned to sweeping the leaves. He hadn't told Uncle Ben about his situation, but somehow, Uncle Ben always seemed to understand what was on his mind.

---

Later that evening, Peter found himself at the Sunshine Café near Presbyterian Hospital. He had received a call from Gwen, inviting him for coffee. After sitting down, Gwen unexpectedly handed him a stack of dollar bills.

"Ten thousand dollars?!"

Peter stared at the green bills in shock. He had been thinking about money, but he never expected this.

"I'm sorry, Peter," Gwen said apologetically. "I was trying to raise more, but I ran out of time."

Gwen had initially planned to borrow $50,000 from her father, but George Stacy, unaware of her true intentions, had only given her $10,000. Even then, it was a significant sum for a middle-class family.

"Gwen, I... I don't need this," Peter said, his heart touched by her gesture. "I can handle it on my own."

"We're both still in high school, Peter," Gwen said, biting her lip. "Even if you rake leaves or deliver newspapers, you won't make much. And you haven't told Aunt May and Uncle Ben about your situation yet."

The pale yellow sunlight filtered through the thin café curtains, casting a soft glow on Gwen's blond hair. Peter looked at her and felt a pang of guilt. Maybe it wasn't right for him to deceive her.

But he quickly pushed the thought aside.

"No matter what, I want to help you, Peter," Gwen said, her voice sincere. "You might think this money is a big deal, but to me, it's not."

Gwen glanced down at the food on her plate, fighting back tears.

"When I was being chased by the Hand and about to jump off the roof, you were there to catch me. And when Frank attacked me, you protected me. Maybe you don't think it's a big deal, but it is to me. If there's something that can't be measured, it's what you've done for me."

Taking a deep breath, Gwen looked up at Peter. "Compared to what you've done for me, this money means nothing."

Peter remained silent for a few seconds, absorbing her words. Finally, he smiled and said, "Thank you, Gwen."

"Does that mean you'll accept it?" Gwen asked, hope shining in her eyes.

"Yes," Peter said, nodding. "But consider it a loan. I promise I'll be fine, and I'll return the money soon."

The tension that had been building in Peter's mind, fueled by his anxiety over the alien embryo, began to ease. He felt a sense of relief wash over him.

"You haven't eaten yet? I'll treat you," Peter offered, calling the waiter to place an order.

Gwen, now in a much better mood, happily joined in and began ordering food. As she enthusiastically stuffed a piece of toast covered in maple syrup into her mouth, Peter couldn't help but watch in amusement.

"Do you always eat like that, Gwen?" Peter asked, his expression a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

"What do you mean?" Gwen mumbled, her cheeks puffed up like a hamster's.

"I'm talking about your eating habits. You always seem to eat in such a... unique way," Peter said, smiling at her.

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