Mission Starts

Ethan stepped off the bus and looked up.

The city hadn't changed much. Same tangled roads, same small shops stuffed into tight corners. The nameplate by the station still read Larca, though some of the paint was faded.

This was the city he and his family once called home—before he got the scholarship that took them away. Serena had stayed behind.

His fingers tightened around the strap of his bag.

"So this is where she vanished," he murmured.

He didn't have much to go on. But he had a plan.

"If I want to find Serena," he thought, "I should start with the people she was close to."

The question was—who?

His mind flashed to his old school. The security guard there. An old man everyone called "Uncle Henry." Serena used to visit his wife whenever she brought lunch. She treated them like family—like her own grandparents.

"If he's still around, maybe he knows something."

With that, Ethan made his way to the school.

It looked smaller now.

Maybe because he'd grown. Or maybe because the memories made everything seem bigger back then. Students bustled in and out of the gates. Same brown uniform. Same noise.

But Uncle Henry wasn't there.

He asked a few of the students loitering at the entrance. They just shrugged.

"Who?"

"Never heard of him."

He turned to the new security guard. A younger man with earbuds in.

"The previous old guard. Do you know where he went?"

"Sorry, bro. I've only been here a year."

Just as Ethan sighed and turned to leave, he heard a voice behind him.

"Are you looking for Henry?"

An old female teacher stepped through the gate. She looked at Ethan with narrowed eyes.

"Wait. Why are you looking for him? "

He smiled faintly. "Ma'am. It's a personal reason."

She gave him a long, thoughtful look.

"He retired last year. His leg… he had an accident. They couldn't keep him on after that. He lives not too far from here." She scribbled down an address on an old staff receipt.

"Thank you."

The house was in a quiet alley. Small, a little worn down, but not falling apart.

Ethan walked closer, just as raised voices reached his ears.

Inside, a couple was shouting.

"I'm not doing this anymore, Mom!" a man yelled. "You both are useless! You want me to feed my own kids or you two corpses?!"

"Your father can't even walk now!" the woman shouted back, voice shaking. "We just need a little more time."

"I already gave you six months! Find a job or get out!"

A door slammed hard enough to rattle the windowpanes.

Ethan stepped closer.

Through the mesh door, he saw them—Uncle Henry, seated on a worn wooden chair, one leg in a brace. And beside him, his wife, wiping tears from her wrinkled face with the edge of her shawl.

He stepped forward and knocked.

"Who's there?" the old man Henry asked, startled.

"It's… Ethan. Ethan Bond. From your old school."

The door creaked open slowly.

His eyes widened the moment he saw him. "Ethan?"

And a flicker of recognition sparked in his tired eyes.

"Boy," he said, voice rough but steady. "It's been a while."

Ethan stepped inside, jaw tight. "Let me help you."

The moment Ethan stepped inside the house, he could tell—this place had seen better days.

The living room was small, dim, and cluttered. Old family portraits hung slightly crooked on the walls. A cracked teacup lay on the table, untouched. And yet, it didn't feel miserable… just worn out.

The old woman, her eyes still red from crying, quickly wiped her face with her shawl as Ethan helped the limping man sit back into his chair.

"Thank you, child," she said quietly.

The old man offered a faint smile. "You've changed a lot… Taller, sharper jawline… more handsome, even. Guess the city treated you well."

Ethan chuckled. "Something like that."

"Now tell me," the old man continued, leaning forward slightly, "why did you come here after all these years?"

Ethan didn't waste time.

"I want to find Serena."

At the mention of her name, the old woman's expression softened instantly.

"Serena…, I remember her, such a kind girl," she whispered. "We always thought of her as our own granddaughter."

The old man's eyes dimmed.

"What happened to her at school... that shouldn't have happened to anyone. She was strong, but after that—"

"Yes," Ethan cut in, his voice low. "She went through a lot. And she thought I was the reason. She left without a word. I haven't heard from her since."

Silence hung in the air.

Until the old man said something that made Ethan freeze.

"You're wrong."

Ethan blinked.

"She didn't blame you."

"That night, the night she left… I found her crying on the side of the road. Like a broken doll, sitting alone. Kept saying, 'I'm sorry, Ethan. I'm so sorry, Ethan…' like a chant. Over and over."

"She wasn't angry," the old man said. "She was scared. Panicked."

"She told me," the old woman continued, "If I don't do something… Ethan will die. Then she just ran off."

Ethan's heart dropped.

What...?

He looked at both of them, trying to process their words.

She left… because she thought Ethan was in danger?

But why? If it were the Crownes, they would've already killed Ethan. So who was she afraid of?

His thoughts spun in every direction.

None of it made sense.

The old couple exchanged glances. "That's all we know, dear," the old woman said. "But… if you want to dig deeper, maybe talk to Sasha."

Ethan's eyes lit up. "Yeah. Sasha… Serena's best friend."

He stood up, ready to leave.

But before he did, something tugged at him.

Back at the gate, he turned.

"Can I ask something?" he said quietly. "Why were they yelling at you? That couple earlier."

The old man sighed.

"So you saw."

He gave a weak smile. "Don't worry, Ethan. We're fine. You should focus on what you came for."

But the old woman couldn't hold back. Her voice cracked again.

"That was our son and daughter-in-law… they used to be so kind. But after his accident—after he lost his leg strength—things changed. We need surgery, but we can't afford it. Now they say we're a burden."

Her voice trembled.

"They said if we can't earn, we should leave the house. My own son said that."

The old man didn't speak. He simply looked down at his injured leg.

Ethan clenched his fists.

This was the same man who guarded the school gate in summer heat and freezing rain. And now…

"How much does the surgery cost? I will pay for it." Ethan asked.

"Too much," the old man replied flatly. "And I won't take your money. You're young. You have a future. Don't waste it on me."

Ethan insisted. "Then at least let me help you find work."

The old couple looked at each other.

Hope. Just a flicker of it.

"I know someone," Ethan said, pulling out his phone. "He'll make sure you're taken care of."

He called Marco.

"Marco. I have two people for you. Elderly couple. Honest. Kind. They need help and work."

Marco's reply was immediate.

"I'll be there tomorrow. Send me their address. I'll pick them up myself."

Ethan turned to the couple.

"Tomorrow, someone will come. He'll help you get settled. Just trust me, okay?"

They stared at him, speechless.

The old woman began to cry again—but this time, it was different.

She smiled.

As Ethan left the alley and stepped into the dusk, his thoughts were burning.

She left because she thought Ethan was in danger.

But why?

Who was after him?

And how did Serena know?

As he walked into the night, one name rang in his mind.

Sasha.

 Then a voice rang behind him.

"Ethan… what are you doing here?"

A/n- Thanks for reading. If any of you can tell or review the story, do you like it or not? It will be really helpful. Send some ps and gt if you have.