The warm sun baked the road as Eman weaved through the congested streets on his trusty scooter. He carefully navigated the sea of vehicles, avoiding colliding with a dawdling pedestrian or a sudden turn of the buses into a line of waiting passengers.

The relentless sun beat down, the scent of asphalt and exhaust thick in the air. Sweat trickled down Eman's back as his scooter's engine vibrated beneath him. He glanced at his scooter’s time: 11:23 am, an hour more before his shift.

He parked his scooter a few blocks from the office due to the lack of nearby parking spaces, its metal frame radiating the heat of the midday sun. His chest loosened as a long, quiet breath escaped, his body unwinding from the tense ride.

He grabbed his towel as he locked up his scooter. When he reached the edge of the street, he wiped out the sweat from his face, neck, and arms. He crossed the street when the pedestrian light signaled "Walk" and headed towards a mini-mart.

As he entered, a gust of cold air washed over his sun-baked skin. The familiar chime of the door rang out as his eyes scanned shelves stacked with instant noodles, dried mango snacks, and bottled fruit juice. The smell of freshly baked pandesal from the small bakery section teased his nose.

Eman bought the usual chicken sandwich, a bottle of water, and a can of milk. One of the staff curiously looked at him as he went outside the store and saw him turn into a corner down the street. She continued stocking the shelf, but after a minute, she saw him walk out from the corner and enter the building just across the street.

"I always see him visit that corner."

The store owner asked if she wanted to check it. She enthusiastically nodded and rushed to the place. A pathway greeted her right after she turned; it was wide enough for three people to walk side-by-side. She tilted her head as her forehead slightly curled.

She was about to go back to the store when she heard a muffled “meow.” Carefully scanning the area, she saw a plastic box with a makeshift curtain. Upon closer inspection, it seemed that the box was well kept due to the neatness of the curtains. There was another soft meow, and she pulled the curtains aside and saw two small white kittens.

Beside them was a bowl filled with fresh milk. A smile lingered on her face as she returned the curtains. She stood up, looked at the building where Eman went, and then returned to the store.

It was 12:30 pm when Eman entered the building’s cafeteria. He was about to sit when a woman sat in front of him. It was Sheila, his colleague and the one who guided him when he was just starting at the company. They were eating their lunch and chatting as usual. Sheila was asking him the usual questions about his plans in life.

“You already own a house, right?” she asked as she mixed her curry rice.

Eman nodded slowly, taking a sip of water.

“Why not adopt the kittens, then?” she added, before eating another spoonful of rice.

Eman’s grip tightened around his bottle. "You know…" he trailed off, a shadow passing over his face as he glanced toward the window, memories he'd rather forget surfacing unbidden.

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His words hung in the air, unfinished, just like the thoughts he couldn't quite grasp.

She swallowed the food in her mouth and cut Eman’s answer.

"But that’s a long time from now! You already have a house. Caring for them would be much simpler if they were with you anyway."

Sheila was about to continue the conversation when someone called her. She scooped all the remaining curry rice from the box and tidied her side of the table. After taking the food box to the trash, she waved to her colleague and ran back towards their table.

She leaned toward him and whispered, "You’re going to regret it, you know. If something happens to those kittens, you’ll never forgive yourself." Her eyes softened with genuine concern. "Do it now, while you still can."

She then tapped the table and walked towards her waiting colleague. Eman looked outside the glass wall beside him, and a wave of thoughts surged upon him, but he decided to avoid any new commitments. He opened his food box and finished his lunch. With a crumple of the paper bag, he stood, pushed his chair back, and made his way to the elevator.

Back at his desk, Eman settled in for the afternoon. His colleague, Alex, who worked in the next cubicle, leaned over.

“Hey, Eman,” Alex began, “how’s it going with your investments and life insurances?”

Eman glanced at him, a slight smile on his face. “I don’t check them that frequently, but it seems they’ve been quite profitable these past years. It’s all part of the plan, you know?”

“That’s good to hear,” Alex nodded. “You always seem to have everything figured out. It must be nice to have that safety net.”

“It is,” Eman admitted, turning back to his computer. “But it’s still a lot of work to keep everything in balance.”

The two continued working in companionable silence. Eman occasionally glanced at the clock, mentally counting down the hours until he could head home. An hour later, as he was engrossed in testing a particularly tricky piece of code, he saw Sheila walking past the hallway. Her words about regretting not taking care of the kittens echoed in his mind.

When the clock finally struck 5:30 pm, Eman packed up his things and clocked out. He decided to stop by the mini-mart again to buy more food and milk for the kittens. The staff from earlier gave him a knowing look but said nothing as he paid for his items.

Eman retraced his steps to the alley where the kittens were. They were still there, nestled in the box. He refilled their food bowl and added more milk, watching them for a few moments as they eagerly ate.

“Stay safe, you two,” he murmured again before heading back to the parking lot.

As he walked, his phone vibrated. He pulled it out and saw a notification from his game, reminding him to claim his offline VIP rewards. He smiled, briefly relishing the small victory in his virtual world, then locked his phone as he reached the parking lot and mounted his scooter.

Sheila’s words replayed in his mind during the ride home. Thoughts of the kittens gnawed at him, distracting him from the road ahead. What if something happened to them? What if Sheila was right? But then the memories surfaced—the sleepless nights, the constant pressure, the weight of responsibility. The image of a small grave flashed in his mind.

His chest tightened at the thought of failing them like he had failed before. The argument in his mind was intense, but ultimately, the fear of failure won out.

He continued driving, lost in thought.

A sudden glare reflected off the mirror, momentarily blinding him. His heart skipped, the world narrowing into a tunnel as his mind struggled to process the speeding van barreling toward him. A slow realization creeping over him before his brain could catch up to the approaching danger.

He turned, only to see a white van hurtling toward him. The collision was brutal. His scooter slammed into the center aisle, sending him flying several meters. The world around Leo spun violently, each rotation a blur of pain and chaos.

The force of the impact slammed him against the asphalt, a sickening crunch resonating through his body as his vision blurred. Pain shot through his spine, but it was the cold, suffocating darkness that began to creep in around him.

In those final moments, fragments of his life flashed before him—the laughter shared over street food at midnight, the unopened manga on his shelf, and the soft meows he'd never hear again. Regret twisted through him, sharper than any pain. He gasped for breath, only to choke on his own blood.

The city's cacophony—the honking horns, the chatter of pedestrians—faded into an eerie silence as darkness edged into his vision.