Noah wandered through the park, savouring his ice cream.
A group of children played tag near the fountain, their shrieks filling the park.
An old couple sat on a bench feeding pigeons, their hands intertwined together.
Continuing without him.
"Hello?" His heart skipped its customary beat of anxiety.
"Mr. Carter? This is Dr. Ramirez. I've been reviewing your father's case."
Noah tensed. "Has something changed?"
"His last blood work showed marked improvement. The infection markers we've been monitoring have decreased significantly."
"That's... good, right?"
"It's unexpected. The treatment hasn't changed, but his body seems to be responding more effectively."
The doctor paused before asking again.
"Has he been taking any supplements we're unaware of?"
Noah's ice cream was forgotten, dripping down his fingers.
The doctor nodded on the other side of the phone.
"Well, whatever it is, we're optimistic. His condition has stabilised enough that we're considering moving him to a standard room. Perhaps even discussing discharge options in the coming weeks."
Noah found the nearest bench and took a seat.
He ended the call, staring at the melting cone in his hand.
The ice cream had surrendered to the heat, white droplets of its territory on the pavement.
His father's health was improving after months of steady decline.
It was such a sudden turnaround.
Twenty minutes later, he slid into a cab, a bag of premium fruit resting on his lap. Mangoes, strawberries, green grapes.
The cab pulled away from the curb. Noah watched the city blur past.
The same bills that had crushed him for months now seemed like mere inconveniences. Merely some temporary obstacles on a path suddenly brightened with possibility.
Alan Carter looked up from his crossword puzzle as Noah entered. His face, though still thin, had more colour than yesterday. His eyes brighter.
"You've got that look," his father said by way of greeting.
"Like when you were ten and tried to convince me you hadn't eaten all the cookies."
Noah laughed, setting down the fruit.
Alan eyed the bag. "More fruit? You're going to turn me into a macaw."
"Doctor's orders. Vitamins all of the healthy things."
"Speaking of doctors, mine was in earlier. Said my numbers are improving."
Noah pulled a chair closer. "That's what they told me. Any idea why?"
"Clean living and your excellent parenting." Alan bit into the strawberry. "Or maybe I'm just too stubborn to die."
"Sorry." He waved the half-eaten strawberry apologetically. "Old man's humour."
Noah unpacked the rest of the fruit, arranging it on the bedside tray.
"So," Alan said, accepting a mango slice. "Your mysterious new business venture. Still not sharing details?"
"It's complicated." Noah selected a grape. "But it's working."
"Must be." His father gestured at the fruit spread. "You haven't splurged since your college graduation."
"They do." Alan's voice softened.
He reached for Noah's hand. "Thank you, son."
Noah squeezed back, feeling the fragility of his dad's hands that were once strong enough to carry him.
They talked for an hour, mostly about everything except Noah's sudden financial turnaround. Some mysteries, it seemed, were better left unexplored.
When visiting hours ended, Noah stood to leave.
Noah bent down for a quick, awkward hug. "Take care, Dad. I will see you soon."
His dad nodded with a smile on his old face. "You too, son. See you soon."
The journey home passed in contemplative silence.
Soon enough, his apartment welcomed him with its embrace.
Noah kicked off his shoes and headed to the kitchen to make some food.
Let's see if yesterday's lesson stuck.
What was his name again? Right, it was Chef Marcus.
He fired up the burner, the orange flame dancing beneath the pan.
The chicken hit the hot surface with a satisfying sizzle.
Unlike before, Noah did not panic this time, nor frantically check the instructions either.
Maybe it's the Intelligence boost from the tea? Or just confidence from actually succeeding yesterday?
The garlic went in at exactly the right moment—not too early to burn, not too late to miss flavor infusion.
"Ahh, smells delicious."
Noah let out a soft moan, smelling the food he was cooking.
'Chef Marcus would be proud.'
The vegetables followed, vibrant bell peppers, sliced mushrooms wilting perfectly into the sauce.
Each addition felt like a spell being cast.
When he plated the finished dish, Noah stepped back, genuinely stunned by what he'd created. The chicken rested on a bed of vegetables, the sauce gleaming with richness that even restaurant meals sometimes lacked.
I actually made this. Without watching a video tutorial at the same time.
He had watched the video beforehand. But not whilst cooking it, which made him feel proud of himself.
[You have learned the new skill: Cooking Lvl.1]
The notification appeared in his vision, confirmation that something fundamental had changed. Just like swordsmanship, cooking had become a quantifiable ability, a skill that could grow.
Noah laughed, alone in his kitchen with his perfect meal and new skill notification.
Hopefully it tastes good.
Noah brought the spoon to his mouth and took a cautious bite.
Flavours exploded across his tongue.
The meal was savoury, slightly tangy with depths he hadn't expected. The chicken was perfectly cooked, tender and juicy.
Not just edible. It's actually good!
The second bite was even better than the first.