The Greatest Showman#1384 - embrace life

Kianush's presence became clearer, perhaps due to familiarity settling in—Renly and Rooney were not as distant as he initially assumed. Maybe it was the shared chaos that forged an unspoken camaraderie, or perhaps Renly's encouraging gaze inspired more conversation. Whatever the reason, the result was an unbroken stream of dialogue that carried them through the rest of the ride.

It was an unexpectedly pleasant journey, irreplaceable and unforgettable in its simplicity.

But every journey must reach its destination. As Lincoln Center came into view, Kianush slowed to a stop at the final traffic light. He hesitated for a moment before turning to them.

"Excuse me, would it be possible to get an autograph? I don't want to intrude if it's inconvenient... I mean, if the paparazzi catch wind of this, I wouldn't want to disrupt your lives. I know it's rude, but I just can't help myself."

Dating?

Renly and Rooney exchanged amused glances, the corners of their lips quirking up, but without speaking. They turned back to Kianush simultaneously.

"Of course, no problem at all," Renly answered with an easy smile. Rooney nodded in agreement beside him.

Kianush couldn't contain his excitement. "Yes!" he cheered, clenching his fists like a football fan celebrating a goal.

Sometimes, joy is simple. Money is important, but one's outlook on life matters even more.

Before stepping out, Renly and Rooney each signed the lid of a pizza box. Kianush carefully tucked it away, his face glowing with happiness.

To many, that greasy, worn-out pizza box would be trash—forgotten or discarded without a second thought. But to Kianush, it became a treasured keepsake. Years later, it still hung from his rearview mirror, a talisman of a night that changed his perspective.

Someone once offered to buy the signed box, citing the $65,000 price tag of a torn, aged poster Renly had signed at the Berlin Film Festival. Given the significance of this night, Kianush's autograph could fetch a high price.

But he refused.

"This is a memory that belongs to me," he said. "It's worth more than $65,000."

Though America is a land of immigrants, discrimination—racial, ethnic, and religious—runs rampant. People try to ignore it, but it never truly disappears. Otherwise, the shocking outcome of the 2016 presidential election wouldn't have happened.

Kianush had only been in the country for three months when he met Renly and Rooney. In that short time, he had already experienced too much—the small humiliations and outright hostility. As a taxi driver, he encountered all walks of life, some passengers refusing to enter his cab, their silent contempt stinging more than words ever could.

He had considered leaving, but he had nowhere to go. With no home to return to, he numbed himself with work and alcohol, trying to escape to a place that didn't exist. A barren refuge where he could bury himself, where he wouldn't have to feel pain or confusion anymore.

Maybe, in that emptiness, he would find happiness. Or at the very least, he wouldn't feel anything at all.

But then, Renly and Rooney changed his perspective.

New York is a melting pot, full of both good and bad. One could encounter extremists or warm, welcoming arms. The problems couldn't be ignored, but hope didn't have to be lost.

Happiness is complicated because life is never easy. Yet, happiness can also be simple—because life itself is a miracle.

It had been an ordinary night. But for Kianush and the unnamed deliveryman, it was a turning point.

After dropping them off, Kianush found a free parking spot. He had fifteen minutes—just enough time to eat in peace. The earlier adrenaline rush had made him forget his hunger, but now, as his body relaxed, he realized how ravenous he was. Taking a huge bite of his meal, he savored the burst of flavor, sighing in contentment.

The radio crackled to life.

"Taxi 6C47, come in."

Kianush wiped his mouth and responded. "Yes, that's me. What's up?"

"There's a reporter from TMZ looking to interview you."

"What?" Kianush nearly choked.

A new voice cut in. "Hello, this is Joey Murphy from TMZ."

If Renly had been there, he would have recognized the name. Joey had worked alongside Elliott Court, the paparazzo who had cornered them on Oscar night. Now, it seemed, he had joined TMZ officially.

"We're covering an act of bravery that took place near 42nd Street and Eighth Avenue," Joey continued. "A taxi was involved. Are you the driver?"

"No," Kianush instinctively denied.

The reporter read his license plate aloud, confirming they had seen Renly and Rooney. "We're not looking for a scandal," Joey assured. "We just want to report the truth."

Kianush hesitated. Eventually, he sighed and admitted, "Yes, I was there." He recounted the events as he had experienced them.

"It felt surreal," he said at the end. "Renly Hall got into my cab, and then Renly Hall fought off four thugs—like something straight out of a Hollywood movie."

"I tried to help. I shoved one guy, and Renly kicked another. He was incredibly brave—he knew exactly what he was doing. Honestly, he deserves most of the credit. I was just running after him, dazed."

"They tried to attack Renly and Rooney, but Rooney held her own. She even fought back. It was incredible. They weren't injured, but I think the thugs recognized Renly and panicked. Or maybe they realized they were outnumbered once the crowd got involved. Either way, they ran."

Kianush chuckled. "I keep wondering—have I seen this scene in a movie before?"

As the taxi door closed behind them, Renly and Rooney stood at the base of Lincoln Center's steps, exchanging glances. Amusement sparkled in their eyes, their unspoken understanding deepening.

"I thought you followed your own rules," Rooney teased.

"The two-day rule?" Renly mused. "I never see the same person for more than two days in a row."

"So… is today day one?"

"No. I don't consider this a date. Do you?"

"Hmm... No, I wouldn't call it that either. Looks like Kianush completely misunderstood."

"Well, as the lady, the final decision is yours."

"Glad we're in agreement."

Their effortless banter flowed, echoing the conversations of the night before—standing in the supermarket aisle, debating laundry detergent, discussing dating rules, and joking about single concert tickets.

Kianush's words had stirred those memories anew.

Glancing down at themselves, they realized how disheveled they looked after the chaos. Hardly an appropriate appearance for Lincoln Center.

"The show starts in ten minutes," Renly noted. "We could freshen up in the lounge, but for a woman, ten minutes might not be enough. So, do we arrive late but well-groomed, or on time but looking like this?"

Rooney smirked. "Or option three—we arrive on time and looking great. Ten minutes is tight, but doable. If we stand here debating, though, we'll lose our chance."

Renly grinned and took a step back, offering his hand. "Miss Mara, may I escort you to the lounge?"

"With pleasure." She took his hand, and together, they strode toward Lincoln Center's grand entrance.

Outside, the world remained the same. But beyond those doors, everything had shifted.