Chapter 8 - The Weight of Progress

  Ezra had never liked writing papers.

  Math? He could deal with. Physics equations? Once he had the right connections in his head, they weren’t so bad. But essays? A proper research paper, one with citations and structured arguments, was the kind of assignment that made him want to run headfirst into a wall.

  Unfortunately, his physics professor disagreed.

  The assignment was straightforward: Pick a major industrial force in modern physics, break down its contributions, and explain the science behind it. Not just in theory, but in practical, real-world applications.

  At first, Ezra considered going for something easy—maybe the advances in fusion energy or deep-space propulsion. But something nagged at him, an itch at the back of his mind.

  Key Industries.

  It was one of the biggest names in the system, the foundation of graviton physics—the very reason humanity had been able to expand beyond Earth’s orbit without needing to brute-force their way through every planetary hurdle with old-school rocketry.

  And Julie’s dad was at the helm of it.

  The more Ezra thought about it, the stranger it felt that he had never really put the pieces together before.

  Julie rarely talked about her father’s work, and when she did, she spoke about it the way most kids talked about their parents’ office jobs—uninterested, like it was just something that had always been there.

  But Key Industries wasn’t just some company. It was the keystone of human expansion into space. And as Ezra began digging deeper, he realized just how much he hadn’t known.

  Key Industries wasn’t just a company.

  It was the company.

  The backbone of every major spacefaring operation in the solar system. They had their hands in asteroid mining, orbital infrastructure, and Mars’ rapid industrial growth. And, most importantly, they were behind the graviton reactor buried beneath Mt. Fuji—humanity’s only known source of anti-gravity waves.

  The deeper Ezra read, the more overwhelmed he became. Graviton technology wasn’t infinite.

  Humanity had about 20 to 30 years worth of energy stored in reserves. That seemed like a long time, but not when compared to the scale of the infrastructure that relied on it—everything from orbital mining rigs to planetary transportation networks.

  The only way forward was to feed more energy into the core. The more power they pumped into the Mt. Fuji reactor, the more graviton waves it supplied in return. It was a self-sustaining system, but only as long as Key Industries could keep up with demand.

  And right now?

  That meant expanding on their most ambitious project yet—the construction of a Dyson Array.

  The scale of it was unfathomable.

  Key Industries was leading a century-long endeavor to construct the first solar energy relay system—a partial Dyson Sphere, designed to capture and redirect a fraction of the sun’s raw power toward the Mt. Fuji core.

  The moons of Jupiter were being mined for resources, supplying materials to massive orbital foundries where solar arrays were being assembled piece by piece.

  To get them into place, Key Industries had developed an orbital rail cannon, a colossal structure capable of propelling solar panels directly into predetermined orbits around the sun.

  It was awe-inspiring.

  And terrifying.

  Because when Ezra looked at the numbers—the raw logistics, energy costs, and required labor—it became clear that this wasn’t just an engineering challenge.

  It was a sacrifice.

  A lot of people had already died making it happen. And a lot more would before it was finished.

  Then Ezra found the records about the graviton reactor’s construction.

  His fingers hovered over the screen, scanning the data, his stomach twisting the deeper he read. The Mt. Fuji reactor wasn’t some miracle breakthrough that had been achieved without consequence.

  The first engineers sent to stabilize it? Driven insane by radiation poisoning.

  The initial research teams? Decimated by unknown side effects of early graviton experiments.

  The final push to fully operational status? Cost thousands of lives.

  And even now, with everything supposedly under control, there were rumors—stories of a shadow government operating beneath the surface, guarding the reactor with a secrecy that went beyond normal corporate interests.

  Julie had never mentioned any of this.

  To her, this was just Dad and his work.

  But to Ezra?

  It was mind-boggling.

  Sitting back in his chair, he exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. He had always thought of Key Industries as another big company, the kind of thing rich families ran without ever worrying about the consequences of their actions.

  But this?

  This wasn’t just some corporation protecting its assets. This was humanity’s future, locked inside a mountain of radiation and dead engineers. And for the first time, Ezra wasn’t sure if he admired it—or if it unnerved him.

  The next time he saw Julie, he couldn’t keep quiet about it.

  They were sitting in her apartment, the low hum of a news broadcast playing in the background, when he finally spoke.

  "Why didn’t you ever tell me your dad’s company was running the whole damn solar system?"

  Julie, stretched out on the couch, barely glanced at him. "Because it’s not that big a deal."

  Ezra stared at her. "Not that big a—Julie, your dad is basically holding human civilization together with duct tape and math."

  Julie rolled her eyes, sitting up slightly. "Ezra, come on. You’re acting like he’s some Bond villain. It’s just work."

  Ezra rubbed his temples. "Work? Julie, they’re building a Dyson Array. That’s not ‘just work,’ that’s—history-making."

  Julie sighed, pulling her legs up onto the couch. "I get it, alright? It’s impressive. But it’s always been like that. I grew up with this stuff. It’s just… normal to me."

  Ezra leaned forward, his voice softer. "You don’t think it’s kind of messed up? The reactor? The deaths? The way nobody talks about the people who made it happen?"

  Julie hesitated.

  For the first time, he saw a flicker of doubt cross her face. She chewed her bottom lip, choosing her words carefully.

  "I think… people like my dad don’t have the luxury of worrying about those things," she admitted. "They worry about the future. Because if they stop moving forward, everything collapses."

  Ezra sat back, mulling over her words. He wasn’t sure if he agreed. But he wasn’t sure if he disagreed either.

  Because if Key Industries failed? If the graviton reactor stopped producing gravity waves? Humanity’s entire solar infrastructure would crumble overnight. Progress had a cost. And now, Ezra wasn’t sure if he wanted to pay it—or challenge it.

  Ezra poured everything he had into his research paper.

  For the first time, he actually cared about an assignment. It wasn’t just about writing something for a grade—it was about understanding how things worked, about proving a better way existed.

  He backed up his findings with data from his AI simulations, carefully mapping out how Key Industries could optimize their energy distribution to reduce material waste and prolong equipment lifespan.

  It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was a step in the right direction. By the time he handed it in, he felt good about it. Confident. Hopeful. Then he got his grade.

  A D-.

  Ezra stared at his student portal, his stomach twisting in disbelief. He checked the comments section, his eyes narrowing as he read the professor’s only feedback:

  "Good proposal. Seen this before. How do you account for industry expansion? Safety is important, but so is time. Humanity only has 100 years to complete this project."

  Ezra’s jaw tightened. A D-?

  A D-, because he hadn’t focused on speed?

  Because he prioritized safety over deadlines? He let out a slow breath, forcing his frustration down. It wasn’t the grade that bothered him. It was the message behind it.

  Ezra wasn’t stupid. He knew why the 100-year project timeline mattered. If they didn’t finish it on schedule, if Key Industries failed to supply enough graviton power, then the entire solar system’s infrastructure would start to break down.

  No graviton reactors?

  No orbital manufacturing on Mars.

  No asteroid mining.

  No space elevators, no efficient planetary travel, no stable lunar colonies.

  Humanity wasn’t just advancing for the sake of ambition. They were racing against the clock. But was that really an excuse to push things to the breaking point?

  Ezra couldn’t let it go. After class, he confronted Professor Langley, expecting a half-hearted justification, some bullshit excuse about “academic grading policies”. But Langley just looked at him for a long moment before saying something that caught him completely off guard.

  “You’re not wrong, Ezra.”

  Ezra blinked. “…Then why the hell did you give me a D-?”

  Langley sighed, leaning back against his desk. “Because you’re looking at this like an engineer.”

  Ezra folded his arms. “Yeah. That’s kind of the point.”

  Langley smirked slightly. “And that’s why I’m keeping an eye on you.”

  Ezra frowned. “…What?” The professor didn’t elaborate. Instead, he glanced at the classroom door, as if checking to make sure no one was listening, then lowered his voice.

  “I’ve seen students like you before,” he said. “Young minds who think they can change the system. Who think outside the framework we’ve been given.”

  Ezra stayed silent.

  Langley watched him carefully. “Some of them made it big. Got recruited into special projects, classified research teams.” His expression darkened slightly. “Others… stopped showing up.”

  A strange chill settled over Ezra’s skin. The weight behind Langley’s words was heavy. Intentional. “You don’t need to take my warning seriously,” Langley continued, his voice calm, but firm. “But if I were you? I’d be careful where I push my curiosity.”

  Ezra didn’t know what to say.

  What Ezra didn’t know—what Langley didn’t tell him—was that his paper had already been flagged. A copy had been pulled. Not by the university. Not by any normal review board.

  It now sat on the desk of someone neither of them had ever met, in an office that didn’t officially exist. And whoever that person was? They were very, very interested in Ezra Key.

  And how his mind worked.

  The Italian mountains stretched endlessly into the horizon, their peaks crowned in mist, standing tall like ancient guardians watching over the valley below. The summer sun hung low and golden, casting a warm glow over the wildflowers that had sprung to life after the last of the spring melt.

  This was where Julie and Ezra chose to say their vows.

  Not in a grand cathedral, not in the heart of a bustling city, but here—in a place that felt untouched by time, where the wind carried the scent of pine and where Nonna Francesca could be part of it all without leaving home.

  It was simple.

  Humble.

  Perfect.

  The guests sat in a half-circle along the ridge, the wooden chairs placed carefully so that no matter where they sat, they could see the mountains behind the altar—a symbol, Julie had insisted, of the vastness of life they were about to step into together.

  The aisle was a path of stone and earth, lined with wildflowers handpicked that morning, their petals trembling gently in the soft alpine breeze.

  Ezra stood at the altar, heart pounding in his chest, his palms damp despite the coolness of the air. He had never been the type to get nervous in front of people, but this was different.

  This wasn’t just a ceremony. It was a moment in time, carved out just for them.

  And then—

  Julie appeared at the top of the hill. For a moment, Ezra forgot to breathe. She was radiant.

  There was no excessive makeup, no over-the-top glitz and glamour. Just Julie, in a flowing ivory gown, the soft fabric catching in the breeze, her golden hair swept in loose waves around her shoulders.

  Her blue eyes locked onto his. And just like that, the world fell away.

  She walked toward him slowly, every step deliberate, every moment etched into his memory. Bruiser, standing at Ezra’s side as best man, muttered under his breath, “You’re gonna cry, man.”

  Ezra didn’t respond. Because Bruiser was right.

  They stood hand in hand, facing each other beneath the open sky, the officiant speaking, though Ezra barely heard him. All he could focus on was Julie, the way her fingers trembled slightly in his grasp, the way she bit her lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to spill over.

  She was nervous. So was he. But this?

  This was everything.

  Julie took a deep breath, eyes glistening, and then she spoke first.

  “Ezra,” she whispered, voice steady but thick with emotion. “When we first met, I thought you were just some stubborn, reckless idiot who didn’t know when to quit.”

  The guests chuckled, and Ezra smirked, but Julie’s expression remained soft, serious. “But then I realized…” She swallowed. “You’re not reckless. You just care more than anyone I’ve ever met. About your work, about the people around you. About me.”

  Her grip on his hands tightened.

  “You never stop trying. Even when things are hard, even when the world throws everything at you. You fight for what you love, and somehow, you make me feel like the most important thing in the universe.”

  Ezra felt his throat close up, his vision blurring slightly.

  Julie gave him a small, shaky smile.

  “So, I promise—no matter what happens, no matter where life takes us—I’ll fight for you, too.” She let out a quiet, breathy laugh. “Even when you’re being an idiot.”

  Ezra exhaled, a wet chuckle escaping him as the guests laughed again. Then, it was his turn.

  He had written something. Planned words, structured and neat. But now, standing here, nothing on that paper mattered.

  Only her.

  He took a slow breath, cupping her hands in his, and let the words come straight from his heart.

  “Julie,” he murmured, voice unsteady. “I used to think love was supposed to be easy. That when you found the right person, everything would just… work.”

  He shook his head, smiling faintly. “But that’s not true. Love isn’t easy. It’s messy, complicated. It’s full of bad days and misunderstandings. But it’s also—” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s choosing someone. Every single day. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that I will always, always choose you.”

  Julie blinked rapidly, her lips trembling as her grip on him tightened.

  Ezra’s voice dropped lower, just for her.

  “You’re my best friend. My partner. My future.” He exhaled, heart hammering. “And I will spend every day making sure you know just how much you mean to me.”

  Julie let out a small sob, one she quickly tried to smother with a laugh, shaking her head at him.

  “Damn you, Ezra Key,” she whispered.

  “Damn you too,” he murmured back, smiling.

  The officiant smiled warmly.

  “With those vows, and in the presence of your loved ones,” he said gently, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

  Ezra barely heard the rest of it.

  Julie launched herself at him before the words were even finished, throwing her arms around his neck as he caught her effortlessly, laughing against her lips as their guests cheered.

  The world blurred, but Ezra didn’t care.

  Because at that moment, under the open sky, surrounded by mountains and the people who mattered most, he wasn’t just a husband.

  He was whole.

  The wedding had been everything Ezra could have hoped for—a simple, beautiful moment shared with the people who mattered most. But as the sun set behind the Italian mountains, giving way to the soft glow of lanterns strung across the courtyard, Ezra couldn’t shake the feeling that the day wasn’t quite over yet.

  Not for him.

  The afterparty had settled into a warm, easy rhythm. Guests filled the open-air terrace, sipping fine wine and espresso, sharing old stories, and enjoying the last few hours of celebration. The air was filled with soft laughter, the clinking of glasses, the gentle hum of music floating in from a nearby radio.

  Ezra was soaking it in, savoring the quiet joy of the evening, when a familiar voice called his name.

  “Ezra.”

  He turned to find Mr. Key standing near the edge of the gathering, his expression unreadable. Beside him stood another man—older, refined, wearing a sharp black suit that looked almost too formal for the occasion.

  Ezra frowned. He recognized that face.

  Dr. Livingston.

  The president of his community college. Why the hell was he here?

  Mr. Key tilted his head slightly, motioning for Ezra to join them. “Come with us for a moment.”

  Ezra hesitated, glancing at Julie, who was laughing with Nonna Francesca and Seth near the fire pit. But something in Mr. Key’s tone told him this wasn’t just a casual chat. This was something bigger. With a quiet breath, he nodded and followed them into the private lounge inside the villa.

  The lounge was dimly lit, the walls lined with old books and antique furniture. A bar sat untouched in the corner, the faint scent of aged whiskey hanging in the air. Ezra watched as Dr. Livingston casually took a seat, unbuttoning his jacket. Mr. Key, however, remained standing.

  “I imagine you weren’t expecting to see me here,” Livingston said, leaning forward slightly, his eyes sharp.

  Ezra shook his head. “No, sir. I wasn’t.”

  The older man chuckled. “Let’s just say I have… a vested interest in your future.”

  Ezra’s stomach tightened slightly. Mr. Key stepped forward, his expression as serious as Ezra had ever seen it.

  "Ezra," he said, flatly. "What do you know about the White-Coats’ university?"

  Ezra blinked. “The What?”

  Livingston smiled, reaching into his jacket pocket. A moment later, he placed a single, stark white card on the table. Ezra’s chest tightened. He had heard rumors about these cards.

  A White Card wasn’t just wealth. It was influence, power that went beyond the rules of the world he had grown up in. The kind of power governments bent to.

  He swallowed hard. “Not much,” he admitted.

  Livingston gestured toward the card. “Then let me explain.”

  “The White-Coats have a university of their own. One that doesn’t appear on any registry, one that no amount of wealth can buy your way into. It is, without question, the most prestigious and advanced institution in human history.”

  Ezra’s breath caught.

  "Every single person who graduates from this university," Livingston continued, his voice measured, "earns one of these." He tapped the White Card, the simple motion heavier than it should have been. "A seat at the table. A voice in how the future is shaped."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Ezra licked his lips, suddenly feeling like the air had thickened around him. "And you’re telling me… I have a shot at getting in?"

  Livingston and Mr. Key exchanged glances before Mr. Key spoke.

  "It’s not that simple," he said. "You don’t get accepted out of the kindness of their hearts. You earn your way in. And that’s what I’m offering you—a chance to prove yourself. A chance to become more than you ever thought possible."

  Ezra’s mind reeled. “Why me?”

  Mr. Key let out a slow breath. "Because Key Industries is under threat."

  Ezra stilled, his pulse pounding in his ears. Mr. Key clasped his hands behind his back, his face unreadable. "Key Industries isn’t just an engineering firm, Ezra. It’s the backbone of the entire solar system’s expansion. And right now? That foundation is at risk."

  Ezra swallowed hard. “Risk from what?”

  Mr. Key’s gaze darkened. "The Kim family," he said simply.

  Ezra frowned. “They’re—aren’t they one of Key Industries’ biggest partners?”

  "They are," Mr. Key admitted. "But they also control the education sector throughout the solar system. They own the institutions that study graviton technology, shape its regulations, and dictate how it’s taught."

  Ezra’s stomach dropped.

  That meant the Kim family didn’t just influence Key Industries—they had control over who would one day lead it. And someone had already been chosen.

  "Haruto Kim," Mr. Key continued, his expression unreadable. "The Kim family’s prodigal son. He’s been handpicked to take over Key Industries."

  Ezra’s chest tightened. “By who?”

  Mr. Key’s jaw ticked slightly, as if the answer itself was something he’d rather not say. "That’s classified," he said, voice low.

  Ezra stared at him. What the hell did that even mean?

  Ezra sat back, his thoughts a storm in his head. "So… what are you saying? That I have to compete with this guy?"

  Mr. Key nodded once. "If you want the future I think you’re capable of," he said. "Then yes."

  Ezra let out a slow breath, trying to wrap his mind around it all. Key Industries. The White-Coats’ university. The fight for control over the solar system’s expansion.

  It was too big. Too much.

  But Mr. Key wasn’t finished yet.

  "You have until the end of the year to decide," he said. "If you take this path, it won’t be easy. The university will test you harder than anything you’ve ever faced. You think community college was hard? This will be a thousand times worse."

  Ezra didn’t doubt that for a second. "And if I say no?"

  Livingston finally spoke up again, his voice calm but firm. "Then you go on living your life. You stay in the world of ordinary men." He gestured toward the White Card still sitting on the table. "But you’ll never have a seat at the table where the future is decided."

  Ezra’s breath slowed. This was bigger than a degree. Bigger than money, success, or comfort. This was about power. The kind that decided the fate of civilizations. His fingers itched to reach for the White Card. But he didn’t.

  Not yet.

  Instead, he sat back, exhaling through his nose. “…Julie is going to hate this.”

  Livingston chuckled. "That, Ezra," he said, "is the only thing I’m sure of."

  The move to Italy had been a whirlwind of change.

  Julie handled it with effortless ease, navigating the logistics, the flights, the housing arrangements as if it were second nature. For her, international moves were nothing new—her family’s wealth and access to elite networks made sure of that.

  But for Ezra? It was everything.

  He had never imagined himself living in Italy, let alone for the foreseeable future. The thought of leaving his old life behind, of stepping into something unknown and unfamiliar, should have scared him.

  But it didn’t. Because it meant being closer to Nonna Francesca.

  And Julie?

  She had agreed without hesitation. For all her sharp wit, for all her strong opinions and stubbornness, she had never once made him feel like he was asking too much. She had simply said:

  "If this is what you need, then we go."

  And now, here they were. Living in a cozy little apartment just outside Turin, the countryside rolling out before them, the Italian mountains standing tall in the distance, like old friends watching over them.

  Nonna Francesca had recovered well from her stroke.

  Well enough to walk again, well enough to continue her daily routines, though now she relied on a cane—a sturdy, carved piece of wood that she hated acknowledging but always kept within reach.

  She had scolded them both at first, waving off the idea that she needed looking after. "Bah! I am not some old bird waiting to be caged," she had grumbled, smacking Ezra lightly with the back of her hand when he tried to help her with the groceries.

  But he could see it—the slight hesitation when she moved, the way she sometimes sat down longer than usual, the way her fingers curled just a little tighter around that cane when she thought no one was watching.

  So, he stayed anyway.

  Julie took care of the larger logistics, handling what needed to be done around the apartment and keeping Nonna entertained with historical debates that could go on for hours.

  Ezra, on the other hand, picked up a construction job nearby, one that didn’t pay much but felt familiar, something he could fall back into like muscle memory. The work was physically exhausting, but it wasn’t what weighed on him.

  And Julie noticed.

  She had been watching him for weeks.

  It wasn’t like before, when his exhaustion came from long shifts or financial struggles. This was different—quieter, heavier, like he was carrying a decision too big to hold alone. At first, she thought he was still bothered by Nonna’s stroke, that maybe seeing her weakened, seeing her with a cane, had made him feel powerless in some way.

  One night, after dinner, she finally pressed him on it. "You’ve been quiet lately," she said, sitting on the couch beside him.

  Ezra leaned his head back against the cushions, exhaling slowly. “Have I?”

  Julie shot him a look. "Yes."

  A pause. Then, softer—"Is it about Nonna?"

  Ezra turned his head to look at her. The way her blue eyes softened, the way her fingers lightly traced patterns against her knee, told him that she was genuinely worried. And for a moment, he considered letting her believe that was it. That he was just processing the move, the change, the weight of family responsibilities.

  But she deserved more than that.

  Ezra swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been thinking about the White-Coats.”

  Julie’s brows furrowed. “The university?”

  He nodded.

  Julie sat back, crossing her arms. "You’re actually considering it."

  Ezra let out a humorless chuckle. “I mean… how can I not?”

  Julie was silent for a long moment, and then—softly, almost reluctantly—she asked, "Do you want it?"

  Ezra hesitated. Did he?

  He thought about what she had told him months ago—about how people like her father didn’t have the luxury of worrying about what was lost because they were too busy building the future.

  He thought about Key Industries, about how the world was built on sacrifice, about how a hundred-year project couldn’t wait for efficiency to catch up.

  The truth was, he didn’t know if he wanted it. But he knew he couldn’t ignore it.

  Julie didn’t press further. Not yet. She just sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, her fingers lightly tapping against his hand.

  And for now, that was enough.

  There were few things that helped Ezra clear his mind. Video games were one of them.

  Late at night, when Julie had gone to bed and the world outside had settled into a quiet hum, he would boot up his system, slip on his headset, and wait for that familiar voice to come through his speakers.

  “Oi, dumbass.”

  Ezra smirked. “Sup, Bruiser.”

  Brandon "Bruiser" Michaels had been his best friend since high school, a friendship built on shared detentions, dumb pranks, and hours spent yelling at each other over competitive strategy games.

  They had been through a lot together. And despite living oceans apart now, Bruiser was still one of the only people Ezra could truly talk to without reservation. Tonight, they were playing Total War, a game that required careful planning, resource management, and patience—things neither of them were particularly known for.

  But the game wasn’t really the point.

  It was about the routine, about letting their minds wander while their hands worked on autopilot, about having someone to talk to without the pressure of deep conversation. At least, until Bruiser broke the silence. "You know," he said casually, deploying troops across the battlefield, "you’re kinda following in my footsteps."

  Ezra raised an eyebrow. "What?"

  "Moving across the world to take care of your granny," Bruiser said, smirking. "That’s my thing, dude."

  Ezra chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Guess I owe you royalties or something.”

  "Ten percent of your paycheck should do it."

  "Not a chance."

  Bruiser laughed, then paused, his voice softening just a little. "She doing okay?"

  Ezra nodded, even though Bruiser couldn’t see him. "She’s doing good. Cane helps. Still stubborn as ever."

  "Sounds about right."

  The match continued, the clashing of armies filling the screen, but the conversation settled into something calmer. They played for a while longer before switching to something lighter—a run-and-gun game, something that didn’t require thinking, just instinct.

  Ezra found comfort in these nights, in the simple predictability of old friendships.

  It didn’t solve everything. Didn’t make the decision about the White-Coats any easier. But it gave him a space to breathe.

  And right now, that was enough.

  They had switched to a space simulation game, the kind that let you design ships, build stations, and explore procedurally generated galaxies. Ezra had been tinkering with his ship’s fuel efficiency, adjusting thrust-to-weight ratios, while Bruiser was less interested in optimization and more into slamming asteroids at high speeds just to see what happened.

  At some point, their conversation drifted back to Ezra’s indecision.

  "So," Bruiser said, blasting his way through a field of debris, "you gonna take that university deal or what?"

  Ezra hesitated, adjusting the trajectory of his own ship. "I don’t know, man. It’s a lot. More than I ever planned for."

  Bruiser made a thoughtful noise, as if considering something. "You know what I think?"

  Ezra smirked. "Something dumb, probably."

  "Obviously," Bruiser shot back. "But also this—I think you’re scared."

  Ezra paused. For a moment, he just stared at the screen, watching his ship coast through the darkness of space.

  "Yeah," he admitted, quietly.

  Bruiser didn’t mock him for it. Instead, he said, "Good. You should be. Means it’s worth doing."

  Ezra’s hands stilled on the controls.

  Bruiser continued, voice calmer than usual. "Think about it. Everything that ever changed your life—the good stuff? You were scared first, right? First day on a construction site. First time meeting Julie’s family. Hell, probably when you proposed, too."

  Ezra exhaled through his nose. Damn it, he wasn’t wrong.

  Bruiser chuckled, sensing the hesitation. "The real question is—are you scared because it’s a mistake? Or are you scared because it’s too damn big to ignore?"

  Ezra didn’t answer right away. Because, deep down, he already knew.

  And Bruiser? Bruiser had always known exactly when to shut up and let Ezra think.

  Ezra wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet. But for the first time, he wasn’t just avoiding the decision.He was leaning toward an answer.

  The late autumn air was crisp and cold, the sky stretched wide and endless above the Italian countryside. The golden hues of fall had begun to fade, leaving behind bare branches and quiet hills, the last remnants of warmth clinging stubbornly to the landscape.

  Ezra stood outside their small apartment, leaning against the wooden railing of the balcony, watching the distant lights of the town flicker like stars scattered across the valley. The world felt still, but inside him, a storm was brewing.

  Julie had been watching him for a while now.

  She wasn’t one to hover, wasn’t one to pry when Ezra needed space—but he had been distant these last few weeks, and she had noticed. She always noticed.

  Finally, she stepped outside, a woolen shawl wrapped loosely around her shoulders, her breath visible in the cool night air. She leaned against the railing beside him, their arms just barely brushing.

  “You’re thinking about it,” she said, her voice soft, knowing.

  Ezra exhaled slowly, nodding. “Yeah.”

  Julie didn’t ask what. She didn’t have to.

  After a long pause, he turned to face her, hands gripping the railing as he searched for the right words. "I don’t know if I can be like your father, Julie," he admitted. "Hell, I don’t think I’ll ever be. But… that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try."

  Julie’s eyes flickered with something he couldn’t quite place—something deeper than just concern.

  He ran a hand through his hair, frustration laced in his voice. "Bruiser’s right. This is big. And yeah, it scares me, but… imagine how many people I could help. How many lives I could save." He swallowed hard. "The sacrifices that went into building Key Industries? The people who died making it happen? I can’t just ignore that."

  Julie was quiet for a long moment, staring out at the hills, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, she spoke.

  "You know what I wanted for you, Ezra?" she murmured.

  He turned his head, watching her closely.

  "I wanted you to just… be you. Not someone shaped by my father’s shadow. Not someone forced into something bigger than himself just because the world decided he should be."

  Ezra’s stomach twisted.

  Julie turned, meeting his gaze fully now, her blue eyes steady, piercing. “But this isn’t about my father, is it?”

  He hesitated. Then—

  “No,” he said quietly. “It’s not.”

  Julie searched his face, as if trying to see past every doubt, every fear, every thought racing through his mind. "You’re sure?"

  He nodded, slowly.

  She let out a slow breath, her fingers curling around the fabric of her shawl. “Then…” Another pause. Then she reached out, cupping the side of his face gently, her thumb brushing against his cheek. "Then you have my blessing."

  Ezra’s chest tightened, a strange mix of relief, gratitude, and something heavier, deeper settling inside him. Julie gave him a small, bittersweet smile. "But make no mistake," she murmured, her voice low, teasing. "I am going to be mad at you when this gets hard."

  Ezra let out a breathy chuckle. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  Julie leaned in, pressing her forehead lightly against his, their breaths mingling in the cold night air.

  "Just promise me one thing," she whispered.

  "Anything."

  Her voice was quiet, but firm. "Don’t get so caught up in saving the world that you forget the people waiting for you to come home."

  Ezra swallowed hard, nodding. "I promise."

  For a moment, they just stood there, wrapped in the silence of the night, wrapped in the weight of their decision, their future, and everything that came with it.

  Then Julie smirked.

  "Now come inside," she said, nudging him. "You’re letting all the warmth out."

  And just like that, the moment passed. But Ezra knew—deep down, something had changed. This was the beginning of something he couldn’t turn back from.

  The first flakes of winter snow dusted the hills of northern Italy as Ezra and Julie stepped off the train, the crisp air carrying the scent of pine and old stone warmed by the faintest touch of midday sun. The familiar countryside stretched before them, the rolling hills and winding roads leading toward the villa where Nonna Francesca waited, where their Quarantinemas traditions would begin again.

  Ezra had always looked forward to this time of year. The world seemed to slow down, wrapped in the hush of snow-covered fields, the nights filled with candlelight and the gentle crackle of a fireplace that had burned for generations.

  But this year, something felt different.

  There was a tension in the air—not bad, necessarily, but something unspoken, something waiting just beneath the surface. Julie noticed it too, the way Seth was grinning like a man who had a secret too big to contain as he met them outside the villa.

  "Welcome home, kid," Seth said, clapping Ezra on the back.

  Ezra smirked, adjusting the strap of his bag. "Alright, spill it. What’s with the look?"

  Seth chuckled. "Got a surprise for you inside."

  Ezra exchanged a glance with Julie, who merely shrugged, then followed his father inside, bracing himself for whatever was waiting beyond the front door.

  He had not, in any scenario, expected this.

  Seated at the head of the dining table, where Nonna Francesca usually sat, was a woman Ezra had never seen before.

  She had snow-white hair, long and neatly tied back, framing a face that was strangely familiar in ways Ezra couldn’t quite place. Her eyes—his eyes—were the same rich amber that reflected in the mirror whenever he looked at himself, though hers carried an unmistakable wisdom, an age that wasn’t measured in years alone.

  And then there was her smile.

  Warm. Inviting. The kind of smile that made the room feel smaller, cozier, as if she had been part of this family for years, even though Ezra was certain he had never seen her before.

  Seth walked past them, placing a hand on her shoulder with an ease that made Ezra’s stomach flip in confusion.

  "Ezra, Julie," Seth said, grinning ear to ear. "I’d like you to meet Ciarra."

  Ciarra stood, graceful despite the years that lined her face, and extended a hand toward Ezra. "So this is the famous son I've been hearing about," she said, voice smooth like winter silk.

  Ezra shook her hand on instinct, his brain still trying to piece together what was happening.

  Seth cleared his throat, looking way too pleased with himself.

  "She’s not just a guest," he said. "She’s family now."

  Ezra blinked. "What?"

  Julie, who had been quietly observing, suddenly perked up. "Wait—"

  Seth beamed, wrapping an arm around Ciarra’s waist with the kind of affection Ezra had never seen in him before.

  "Ciarra’s my fiancée," he announced. "And we’re getting married."

  For a solid five seconds, the room held its breath.

  Nonna Francesca, seated near the hearth with a cup of steaming coffee, let out a laugh, as if she had been waiting for this moment.

  Julie, wide-eyed, grabbed Ezra’s sleeve, whispering, "Did you know about this?"

  Ezra didn’t respond.

  Because he was still trying to process the fact that his father, Seth—who had spent years refusing to date, who had carried the weight of loss like an old companion—was suddenly engaged.

  To a woman Ezra had never met before. And she wasn’t just anyone. She looked like him. Too much like him. Seth, oblivious to the shock freezing Ezra in place, nudged Ciarra playfully. "Told you he’d need a minute to catch up."

  Ciarra gave a light, knowing laugh, stepping closer.

  "Ezra, I know this must be a lot," she said, and her voice held a patience that soothed something Ezra hadn’t even realized was unsettled.

  Still, he struggled to form words. "I—uh. Yeah. A lot’s an understatement."

  He glanced at Julie, who was now sipping a cup of coffee and watching with open amusement, clearly enjoying seeing him at a loss for words.

  Ciarra tilted her head slightly, examining him, and then, as if reading his thoughts, she smirked.

  "You’re wondering how old I am, aren’t you?"

  Ezra choked. "What—no—I mean—"

  She laughed, and it was genuine, the kind that carried years of laughter before it.

  "It’s alright," she said, eyes twinkling. "I get it. I look like I could be your grandmother instead of your father’s fiancée."

  Ezra exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "I—uh—look, I didn’t mean it like that."

  Seth grinned, clearly enjoying this way too much. "I told her you’d be skeptical."

  Ciarra waved him off. "Let him process, Seth." She turned back to Ezra. "I won’t push you to accept this overnight. But I hope, in time, you’ll come to see me as family. I’d like that." Something about the way she said it made the tension in Ezra’s chest loosen just a little.

  Later that night, when the villa had quieted down and most of the guests had retreated to their rooms, Ezra found himself sitting outside on the terrace, the cold air helping clear his head.

  Julie stepped out a few moments later, wrapping her coat tighter around herself as she took a seat beside him.

  "So," she mused, "do you like her?"

  Ezra let out a breath, watching it cloud in the cold. "I… don’t know."

  Julie smirked. "Oh, you like her."

  Ezra shot her a look. "How can you tell?"

  "Because I like her," Julie said simply. "And you and I have surprisingly similar tastes in people."

  Ezra huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

  Julie nudged him lightly. "She’s different, Ezra. I get why you’re hesitant. But I also see the way your dad looks at her."

  Ezra’s smirk faded slightly. Because she was right. He had never seen Seth this happy before. There was a lightness to him now, a quiet joy that hadn’t been there for years. And that? That was hard to argue with.

  Julie leaned her head against his shoulder, sighing contentedly. "You don’t have to figure it all out tonight," she murmured. "Just… give it time."

  Ezra nodded, still staring out at the snow-dusted hills. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I think I will."

  The villa was quieter now, the late-night hush settling over the household like a comforting weight. The warmth of the fireplace still lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of cinnamon and wood smoke. Most of the family had retired for the night, but Ezra remained awake, standing by the window of the sitting room, staring out into the snow-covered countryside.

  His mind was restless. Ciarra had been too familiar.

  Not just in the way she spoke, or the way she carried herself with an effortless kind of wisdom, but in something deeper, something that gnawed at the back of his thoughts like a half-forgotten dream.

  Her presence didn’t feel foreign, and that was what unsettled him. Because it should have.

  The door creaked open behind him. Ezra didn’t turn at first, only glancing up at the reflection in the window as Ciarra stepped into the room, a thick wool shawl draped over her shoulders.

  She was quiet for a moment, then:

  “You’re troubled.”

  Ezra huffed, crossing his arms. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting all of… this.”

  She stepped forward, settling into the chair across from him, her gaze calm but observant. “Change is hard.”

  He finally looked at her, searching her expression. The firelight softened her features, making her seem less like a stranger and more like someone who had always belonged here.That thought unnerved him more than he cared to admit. After a long pause, he sat down, fingers lacing together as he leaned forward slightly. “Why my dad?” he asked.

  Ciarra’s amber eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them before she smiled—a slow, knowing kind of smile, like she had been waiting for him to ask.

  "Because," she said simply, "I wanted a second chance."

  Ezra frowned, the honesty in her voice unexpectedly disarming. "A second chance at what?"

  Ciarra exhaled slowly, as if she had been holding something inside for a long time. "At family," she murmured. "At belonging somewhere. At not spending my life looking in from the outside."

  The words hit Ezra harder than he anticipated.

  For a moment, he saw something else in her—not just a woman who had found love again late in life, but someone who had once been lost, who had carried burdens she never spoke about, who had known what it meant to be alone for too long.

  And yet… Something still didn’t sit right.

  Ezra’s gaze drifted to the way she held her hands together—a precise gesture, familiar in a way that made his skin prickle. "Why do I feel like I know you?" he asked, voice quieter now.

  Ciarra’s expression didn’t change. But something in her body language shifted, ever so slightly. She let out a soft chuckle, but there was something gentle and knowing in it. "You remind me of someone I once knew."

  Ezra studied her more closely now. "You and I have the same eyes," he murmured. "And Dad joked that we look like we could be related."

  Ciarra’s smile was warm, but her silence was telling.

  Ezra leaned back, crossing his arms.

  "Where are you from?" he asked.

  Ciarra tilted her head, watching him for a long moment before answering. "Nowhere, really," she said carefully. "I’ve moved around a lot. Never had a place that felt like home."

  Ezra’s gut twisted. There was truth in her words, but not the whole truth.

  And the way she watched him—like she was waiting for him to figure something out on his own—only made that feeling stronger.

  The silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable.

  Ezra sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You want to be part of this family," he said finally.

  Ciarra nodded. "Yes."

  "And you wanted my approval."

  Another nod.

  Ezra let out a breath, glancing toward the fireplace, watching the flames dance along the logs. "I think I was trying to be skeptical at first. But… I don’t know. There’s something about you." He looked back at her. "You feel… familiar."

  Ciarra’s lips parted slightly, and for a brief second, Ezra swore he saw something in her expression—a flash of emotion, something like relief and heartache all at once. Then she smiled again, softer this time. "Maybe we were always meant to be family," she said simply.

  Ezra didn’t have a response for that.

  He just stared at her, feeling a warmth settle in his chest, something that had nothing to do with the fire burning beside them. Maybe he didn’t need all the answers right now. Maybe some things didn’t need to be explained. After a moment, he reached out and placed his hand over hers.

  "Welcome to the family, Ciarra."

  Ciarra’s breath hitched, just barely, before she squeezed his hand in return.

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  And for the first time since meeting her, Ezra felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

  Ezra caught Ciarra in the kitchen one morning before his trip to the university. She was on her phone. Smart phones weren’t anything new, but hers was stylish! Ezra came up to her. “That’s a fancy model, where’d you get that?” He asked while rummaging the fridge.

  “Oh, this old thing? It was a gift.” She calmly remarked while scrolling through the morning news.

  Ezra sat at the table, food in hand. “A gift?” He asked while making himself a sandwich and some small talk. Ezra eyed the phone. “Must’ve been from someone important, I’ve only ever seen politicians with that kind of brand.”

  The screen had scratches and years worth of wear and tear signs. “Close, but dad wasn’t a politician. He was..” Ciarra’s tone shifted, and her gaze lingered on the phone nostalgically. “A great man. I never got to truly meet him, but his memories live on.”

  Ezra asked if he could take a look at it, and Ciarra handed the little device over to him after unlocking it. Ezra scrolled through the settings. 50 Petabytes of memory, a built in AI assistant, and Ciarra had only used up half of its memory! “Impressive.” He remarks while sliding it back across the table.

  He pulled out his phone, the one Seth gave to him. It was bigger than Ciarra’s, older, fewer features and memory. “Take good care of it. Memories are worth more than the phone.” He leaves her with a smile, finishes his sandwich, and before long he’s on his way to the European White Coat University.