The year drew to a quiet close in Northwood Crest—quiet in a way that didn’t feel natural.
It was the kind of quiet that settles only when something important is missing.
People noticed Levi’s absence long before they admitted it.
The bakery owner would glance at the door each morning.
The grocery cashier would pause every time e a tall silhouette passed the window.
Children who used to run after him whispered questions their parents didn’t know how to answer.
But the truth was sobering:
No one knew where Levi went.
No one even knew who to ask.
His grandmother was gone.
Elsa and her family had relocated—packed up their memories and moved to New York.
And Tommy and Clarie?
They revealed their relationship two weeks after Levi left, choosing each other without shame, though the neighborhood’s eyes burned holes into their backs.
time e didn’t pause for heartbreak.
It simply moved forward without asking permission.
_____
Levi spent a week in Los Angeles, wandering streets that never slept, trying to convince himself he could learn to breathe again.
But L.A.
was too loud, too glittering, too full of everything he felt he wasn’t ready for.
So he left.
And found himself in San Francisco, California—a city that looked completely different depending on the hour you caught it.
By Day
San Francisco was a painting dipped in sunshine.
Cable cars clattered down hilly streets.
Cafés spilled warm smells of sourdough bread.
Vendors hollered near the Wharf, tossing fresh crabs into buckets of ice.
Tourists took pictures with the bay winds sweeping through their hair like invisible fingers.
The sky had that blue-grey tint unique to coastal cities—clean, sharp, and cold on the lungs.
By Night
The city glowed with a kind of elegant arrogance.
Buildings shimmered gold.
Restaurants hummed with laughter.
Fisherman’s Wharf turned smoky with grilled seafood, and the air filled with salty mist drifting off the Pacific.
Street musicians played soft blues near Flearidge Lane, a street Levi now walked past every day.
Shops with glowing signs lined Marlin Row, selling everything from hand-made noodles to imported cigars.
And tucked between them, the new bakery district of Copperlight Avenue, always warm and always breathing with people.
But San Francisco was more than just a place—it was an ecosystem of success stories.
And towering above them all was one empire.
A name people didn’t just recognize—they respected, feared, worshipped.
It was said the Hales could revive a dying business before breakfast and turn it to the next biggestbefore lunch.
Their reach stretched across states, borders, oceans.
The founder, William Hale, now in his late 80s, built his empire brick by brick, with important subsidiaries like:
The Hale Pharmaceuticals and Hospitals
Hale Construction company
The Hale & Co.
Luxury hotel chains
L&T Shipping companies
Pacific Rim, Media network
Pacific Rights Legal empire
L&T Food industries
Along with his son, Leo Hale, they were known as “Business Gurus.”
The Hales were an extremely important family, with connections that reached the highest levels of government and even the military.
People often sought their help or approval.
There was a widespread, persistent rumor that William Hale secretly controlled one of the biggest mafia networks in the country.
No one knew the truth.
But everyone feared the possibility.
Still, the immense power of the Hale name made people listen with respect and a little bit of fear.
People believed that anyone who worked for a Hale company was lucky, because the pay and benefits were fantastic.
And perhaps it was fate, or maybe just coincidence, but:
Levi’s new job fell under a construction branch owned by Hale Conglomerate.
It wasn’t a glamorous job—just basic site work, moving equipment, taking orders—but the pay was solid.
A construction worker in San Francisco could earn around $1,200 to $1,500 per week, depending on overtime e, but in Hale they earened $1,800.
Levi earned enough to eat full meals without calculating tomorrow’s hunger.
For once, life didn’t feel like a punishment.
He saved enough to rent a small apartment in Bernal Heights, a peaceful yet lively neighborhood filled with colorful small houses, balconies strung with lights, and narrow streets where neighbors knew each other by name.
He had a friendly, talkative Canadian Next-door neighbor named Luke, who was always well-informed and eager to chat.
Sometime es, when evening settled and the wind brushed against his window, Levi found himself drifting into memories he didn’t ask for—his grandmother’s soft voice, her dreams for him, her belief that he was meant for more.
He’d smile, eyes stinging.
Then—
“HEY!
Are you done daydreaming!?”
A voice thundered across the construction site.
Levi snapped out of his thoughts.
“Ah—sorry, boss!”
He grabbed his safety helmet and hurried back to carrying metal beams.
San Francisco was nice. This story is hosted at g.com.
His workplace was not.
Harold, second-in-command under the site manager, was the living definition of miserable authority—loud, lazy, and allergic to actual work.
Each day, he sat under a shade eating something new—noodles, burgers, pastries—his belly growing as his patience shrank.
“I CAN’T WORK WITH LAZY PEOPLE LIKE YOU!
MOVE IT!” Harold roared, his face turning red.
The workers grumbled quietly to each other as they hurried.
“Maybe if he actually supervised us instead of spending the whole day on his phone, we’d be done faster,” muttered Diego, one of the workers.
“It’s funny that you think he actually knows how to supervise,” Karan, an Indian worker, chuckled under his breath.
“Seriously, how did a guy like that get this job?
I wish the real boss—the company big boss—would come down here and catch him goofing off,” Marcus added, and they shared a quiet laugh at the thought
Harold spun.
“WHAT’S FUNNY!?”
They scattered.
He yelled until he tired himself out, then waddled back to his fan-cooled office to nap.
At closing, Levi declined the workers’ bar invitation.
He wasn’t rude.
He wasn’t cold.
He was simply… not ready.
Attachments hurt.
And he’d run out of pieces to lose.
“Yo, Levi!” Luke called from across the hallway as he reached home.
The neighborhood was warm and lively—brick houses with flowerpots on windowsills, kids playing soccer across the street, old men watching from porches, dogs barking like they owned the block.
“Evening, Luke,” Levi replied.
“You’re back early!
Harold finally freed you?” Luke laughed.
Levi gave a tired smile.
“Goodnight, Luke.”
“Don’t tell me you’re locking yourself in again.”
“What else should I be doing?” Levi shrugged.
“”Bro—go out.
Have fun.
If you don’t have friends, I’ll drag you with me!” Luke said cheerfully.
“There are places in this city that only come alive at night!
The night is young, and so are we!”
Luke… I’m beat, man.” Levi chuckled, unlocking his door.
“Come on!
It’s going to be fun!” Luke shouted, but Levi was already inside, quietly closing the door on the invitation.