Chapter 30: Life and Death

For a time, life was kind to the Artisans. The days moved with a gentle rhythm—Magali performing beneath the glittering lights of Sweetdance City, her laughter echoing backstage like music of its own; Conrad waiting just beyond the curtains, pride glowing in his eyes, the same steady smile that had carried her through darker years. They built routines, shared breakfasts that tasted of comfort and laughter, and fell asleep each night with their fingers intertwined, their home warm with love and the quiet hum of peace.

But peace, like any melody, fades eventually. It began with the dreams.

Conrad would wake in the middle of the night, breath ragged, his heart pounding so violently it felt as though it might break through his ribs. The room would be thick with shadow, every corner breathing with an unseen weight. The images—whatever horrors haunted his sleep—always dissolved the instant his eyes opened, leaving behind only the remnants: dread, despair, the distinct sensation of something ending.

He pressed a trembling hand against his chest, then dragged it through his hair, trying to steady the uneven rhythm of his breathing. Beside him, Magali slept on, her face turned toward him, her features softened by the silver glow of moonlight. The faint rise and fall of her chest, the delicate peace in her expression—it was everything gentle and unbroken.

And that made the heaviness in him all the worse. He couldn't tell her. Not about the nightmares, not about the choking sense of doom that followed him into the waking hours. She had already endured too much—Khefner's death, the ordeal with Brandon, the quiet scars left by the council's unseen hands. Magali deserved her stage, her joy, her sunlight. Not more shadows. So Conrad did what he always did. He swallowed the darkness whole—and smiled come morning.

Each morning, when the sun rose over Sweetdance City, Conrad smiled. He kissed Magali's cheek, made her breakfast, and pretended the night had been kind. Pretended the dreams hadn't clawed at him again. But when darkness returned, so did they—sharper now, louder, pulling him toward something unseen. Something waiting.

A few mornings later, the world seemed quiet again. The smell of butter and coffee filled their small kitchen, wrapping the room in a comforting haze. Conrad stood at the stove, wrist steady as he whisked the eggs until they shimmered golden in the pan. It was a peaceful routine—one of the few constants he clung to—but that fragile peace shattered when he heard Magali's voice from the living room. It wasn't her usual melody of warmth and confidence. It was soft. Strained. Careful.

"Yes, I understand," she said into her phone, her tone tight but polite. "I'll have to withdraw from the performance. I'm… not feeling up for it right now. Please, give my slot to someone else."

Conrad froze, the spatula hovering midair. Magali canceling a performance was like the sun refusing to rise. It just didn't happen.

He turned back to the stove, movements measured, as though the wrong sound might cause the moment to collapse. The soft scrape of metal against the pan filled the silence between them. By the time she walked into the kitchen, he had already plated the eggs, the mask of normalcy slipping neatly back into place.

"Everything okay?" he asked, keeping his voice even, though his chest already felt tight.

Magali looked up, a small smile curving her lips — the kind meant to reassure, not convince. "Yeah, everything's fine. Why?"

"I overheard you canceling your performance," Conrad said softly, careful not to sound accusatory.

She hesitated, her fingers brushing a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear. The yellow headband she always wore — her signature — caught a glint of sunlight from the kitchen window. "I haven't been feeling well lately," she admitted at last. "I figured I've been pushing myself too hard and need some rest."

Conrad's stomach twisted, but he forced his smile to stay steady. "Okay," he said gently. "If you need anything, just let me know."

Magali leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, her warmth lingering as she sat down at the table, unaware of the quiet storm building behind his calm eyes.

He turned back to the stove, pretending to focus on the eggs, but his thoughts were unraveling. Magali had been brushing off her fatigue for days now — the moments she'd pause mid-sentence to steady herself, the faint pallor that softened her usually radiant face, the way she'd laugh off his concern with a tired smile. It wasn't just exhaustion. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

One morning, the pale light of dawn crept through the blinds, striping the bedroom walls in muted gold. Conrad stirred, half-dreaming, until the sharp slam of the bathroom door jolted him fully awake.

A heartbeat later came the sound. The kind no one could mistake — the violent retching of someone's body rebelling against them.

He was out of bed before his mind caught up with his feet. "Mags?" he called, voice tight with alarm.

The air in the bathroom was cool and smelled faintly of mint soap and stomach acid. Magali was on her knees beside the toilet, one hand clutching the rim as she struggled to steady her breathing. Her hair — normally smooth and tucked neatly beneath her yellow headband — was loose now, damp and clinging to her flushed face. She looked up at him with glassy eyes and tried to wave him off weakly.

"It's nothing, really," she said between breaths. "I think I just ate something bad."

Conrad crouched beside her, his heart pounding. This was the third morning in a row. He'd told himself it was stress, exhaustion — anything but this. But the sight of her trembling hands shattered his denial.

He rested a hand on her back, feeling the tension in her shoulders. "That's it," he said quietly, though his voice trembled with barely-contained worry. "We're going to the hospital."

Magali's head snapped up, surprise flashing in her blue eyes. "The hospital? Conrad, you know idols aren't supposed to go unless it's absolutely necessary. If the press finds out—"

"I don't care." The words came out sharper than he intended. He stood and offered her his hand, his expression firm, eyes shadowed by memories he couldn't shake. "I'm not taking any chances with your health."

"Conrad—"

He helped her to her feet, steadying her as her knees wobbled. His voice softened, but the fear in it was unmistakable. "After what happened to Khefner…" He swallowed hard, the name tasting like ash. "I'm not going to risk losing you too."

Magali's protest died on her lips. She could see it — the terror behind his calm facade, the ghosts still lingering in his gaze. Her shoulders relaxed as she leaned into him, letting out a quiet sigh.

"Alright," she whispered. "Let's go."

Conrad nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face before leading her toward the door. The morning light felt colder now, and though neither said it aloud, they both knew — this wasn't just a routine check-up.

The bus ride to the hospital was quiet, heavy with unspoken worry. The low hum of the engine filled the silence, and the faint patter of rain began to drum softly against the windows, tracing silver rivers down the glass. Conrad sat beside Magali, his hand wrapped tightly around hers, knuckles white from the pressure. She didn't say a word — only stared out the window, watching the city blur past in streaks of gray and light. Her reflection looked pale and uncertain, a ghost of the confident woman who once commanded entire crowds beneath the glow of stage lights.

The bus hissed to a stop, and they stepped out into the drizzle. The world smelled faintly of wet asphalt and smoke. The hospital loomed ahead, a sterile white monument against the storm-darkened sky.

Inside, the air was sharp with disinfectant and tension. Idols and their assistants filled the waiting area — a dancer nursing a twisted ankle, a singer coughing softly into her sleeve, a fan sitting sheepishly with a wrapped wrist after an overly zealous handshake. The hum of voices mixed with the steady beeping of monitors and the rustle of paper forms.

Conrad and Magali approached the receptionist, their linked hands drawing quiet glances from a few nearby nurses. After a brief exchange, they were led down a long corridor that smelled faintly of antiseptic and cold metal. The soles of their shoes squeaked softly against the polished tile, each step echoing faintly in the hall.

When they reached the examination room, the nurse ushered them inside with a polite smile before closing the door behind them. The sterile air felt heavier than it should have. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, and the slow, rhythmic ticking of the clock seemed almost deliberate — each second stretching painfully longer than the last.

Magali sat on the edge of the examination table, her posture straight but tense, hands folded neatly in her lap. She looked smaller than usual beneath the harsh lighting, her bright yellow hairband dulled by the sterile white glow. Her gaze flicked toward Conrad now and then, searching his face for reassurance she didn't quite find.

He sat beside her in a chair, elbows resting on his knees, fingers pressed together like he was praying — or bracing for impact. His expression was unreadable, eyes fixed on the floor, his usual playful confidence replaced with something quieter, heavier.

For once, there was no teasing grin. No joke to break the tension. He looked like a man waiting for bad news.

Magali's pulse quickened. Conrad was always the one who joked when things got tense, the one who found a way to make her laugh even in the darkest moments. Seeing him so still, so serious, made her chest tighten. Whatever waited beyond that door — it had to be bad.

Then came the soft click of the door opening, and in stepped Doctor Sohma. His dark hair was perfectly disheveled, one glossy strand falling artfully across his left eye. The pristine white of his lab coat flared slightly as he walked, revealing the vest and tie beneath — the kind of sharp attire that belonged more on a magazine cover than in a hospital corridor. A clipboard rested in his hand, a stethoscope draped casually around his neck like an accessory rather than a tool.

He scanned the room with cool detachment, only to find both Magali and Conrad staring at him as though he'd walked in from another dimension.

"Is… something wrong?" he asked, arching an eyebrow as he took the seat opposite them.

Conrad blinked twice, struggling to reconcile the absurdity before him. "Doctor Sohma? What are you doing here?"

The doctor paused mid-note, glancing up from his clipboard. For a brief second, his face was unreadable — professional, composed — then it softened into a faint, amused smile. "Why, I'm Magali's primary physician, of course," he said smoothly, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

Conrad frowned, his brows knitting together. "But… aren't you a surgeon?"

"Yes," Sohma replied smoothly, his tone steady, almost indulgent. "A licensed surgeon, to be exact. But I also hold certification in general medicine." He crossed one leg over the other, the movement graceful and deliberate. "It's not unusual for doctors to specialize in more than one field—especially in a city that insists on keeping me, shall we say… rather busy."

Conrad blinked, still trying to process that. "Oh. I see," he murmured, though the disbelief lingered in his voice.

Magali tilted her head, her blue eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Wait a second," she said, pointing at him. "You were Khefner's surgeon. And Conrad's surgeon. How are you suddenly my primary physician?"

Sohma chuckled softly, closing the folder in his lap with a neat snap. "Ah, that's an easy one," he said, eyes glinting. "I was contracted to not only oversee your care—but also that of your closest friends."

"Contracted?" Magali echoed, her tone sharpening. "By who?"

"Your father, of course."

Magali froze, the color draining slightly from her face. "Julian?"

"The very same." Sohma leaned back in his chair, perfectly composed, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I was actually preparing to accept a position at a rather prestigious medical university before he intervened. Offered me twice their salary to relocate here to Sweetdance City and monitor your health personally." He shrugged, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. "Hard offer to refuse."

Magali groaned and pressed her palm to her forehead. "I really love and hate that man at the same time," she muttered. "I told him I didn't need his help anymore."

Sohma's lips curved in quiet amusement. "Parents rarely stop worrying, Miss Artisan. Especially when they can't afford not to."

Conrad smirked from his chair, one eyebrow arched. "You sure he's not running the whole city at this point?"

"Wouldn't surprise me," Magali muttered under her breath.

Doctor Sohma raised a hand, his voice smooth and reassuring. "Don't worry. Just because he pays my salary doesn't mean he owns me—or your medical records." He gave her a small, knowing smile. "Doctor-patient confidentiality still applies. Unless you give me explicit consent, I can't share a single detail with Julian."

Magali exhaled, some of the tension melting from her shoulders. "Good. The last thing I need is my father calling every five minutes to remind me I'm not eating enough greens."

Sohma chuckled softly, scribbling a note on his clipboard. "Then let's make sure you're healthy enough to keep ignoring his advice."

He adjusted his glasses and flipped a page, his demeanor shifting back to business. "Alright then, Miss Artisan," he said with professional ease. "What brings you in today?"

Magali shifted on the examination table, fingers fidgeting in her lap. "I… haven't been feeling great lately," she admitted. "I've been tired, dizzy, and, well…" She hesitated, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "I've been throwing up a lot in the mornings."

Sohma's brow lifted ever so slightly, though the glint in his eye betrayed amusement. "I see." He made a quick note, tapping the pen against the clipboard before glancing briefly at Conrad. "And how long have you two been married now?"

"About… a couple of months," Magali said slowly, not sure where the question was leading.

Sohma nodded thoughtfully, his expression softening into something that almost looked like satisfaction. "Hm. That's about what I thought."

He turned in his chair, opened a desk drawer, and pulled out a small white box. Setting it neatly on the examination table before her, he said with a faint smirk, "Here."

Magali blinked at it. "Is that…?"

"A pregnancy test," Sohma confirmed, leaning back with effortless composure. "Call it a hunch."

Her blue eyes widened. "You think I'm pregnant?"

He gave her that same calm, maddeningly confident smile. "There's only one way to find out." He gestured toward the adjoining door. "Bathroom's right over there."

Magali sighed, half-nervous, half-exasperated. "You've got to be kidding me…"

Conrad gave her a reassuring smile, though his pulse quickened with a strange mixture of panic and hope. "Hey, at least it's better than a blood test," he said, his voice light but edged with nervous laughter.

"Funny," Magali muttered dryly as she took the box from the counter and disappeared into the bathroom, the door closing with a soft click.

The room fell silent, save for the steady tick of the clock on the wall and the faint hum of the air vent overhead. Conrad sat forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the door as if sheer willpower could speed up time. His heart was a drum in his chest.

Across from him, Doctor Sohma leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, watching the door with a knowing half-smile.

"You really think she might be pregnant?" Conrad finally asked, his voice quiet, almost afraid of breaking whatever fragile magic hung in the air.

Sohma didn't answer right away. Instead, he lifted his wrist, glanced at his watch, and said softly, "Three…"

Conrad frowned. "Three?"

"Two…" Sohma continued, that infuriatingly calm grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"What are you—"

"One."

The sound came like an explosion. "CONRAD!"

Magali's voice rang out from behind the bathroom door, followed by the hurried clatter of the handle. She burst into the room, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with disbelief and joy. In her trembling hands, she held up the small white test — the Positive sign glowing clear as day on the little screen.

"Conrad!" she cried, her voice breaking as tears welled in her eyes. "I'm pregnant!"

For a moment, Conrad could only stare, his mind blank, his breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. And then it hit him — like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. A laugh tore from his chest, bright and breathless, as he rushed forward and wrapped her in his arms, spinning her once in sheer, disbelieving joy.

"You're— we're— oh, Mags," he managed, burying his face against her shoulder as she laughed and cried at once.

Doctor Sohma smiled quietly to himself, jotting one last note into Magali's file before setting his pen aside. "Congratulations," he said softly, his tone gentler than usual. "It looks like your family's about to get a little bigger."

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath. The hum of the fluorescent light faded, the ticking clock stilled, and all that existed was the tiny plastic stick trembling in Magali's hands. Her eyes flicked from the glowing Positive sign to Conrad, whose expression hovered somewhere between disbelief and wonder.

Then, all at once, his face broke into a radiant grin—wide, boyish, and brighter than she'd seen in months. "Mags…" His voice cracked with joy. "We're going to be parents!"

A choked laugh escaped her, followed by tears—warm, unstoppable tears that blurred her vision as relief and happiness collided inside her chest. Before she could say anything, Conrad swept her off her feet in a single motion, spinning her around the small examination room.

She squealed, clinging to the test in one hand and his shoulder in the other as her laughter echoed through the sterile space, filling it with warmth and life. For a moment, there were no hospital walls, no sterile smell of antiseptic—just two souls dancing in disbelief and joy.

Doctor Sohma watched them, a quiet smile tugging at his lips as he leaned back in his chair. Clearing his throat with a subtle ahem, he reached for his clipboard. "Well," he said dryly, "before you two ascend into the stratosphere, let's make sure you have everything you need."

Conrad stopped spinning but kept Magali in his arms, turning toward the doctor with the dazed, dreamy grin of a man whose mind was somewhere miles above the ground. "Oh—right, yeah. Doctor stuff. Very important."

Sohma's mouth curved in mild amusement as he scribbled something onto a notepad, then tore the page free and handed it over. "Here," he said. "I'm referring you to Dr. Natsuko Arai—one of the best obstetricians in Sweetdance City. She and I have worked together often. She'll make sure both you and the baby are in excellent hands."

Magali reached for the slip of paper with trembling fingers, her eyes still glassy with emotion. "Thank you, Doctor…" she murmured, her voice catching.

"You're very welcome," Sohma replied, and for once, the faint smile that touched his lips wasn't his usual professional courtesy—it was genuine warmth. "And congratulations, truly. The both of you."

But his words barely reached them. Conrad was already fishing his phone from his pocket, excitement lighting every line of his face. "We have to tell everyone," he said breathlessly. "Julian's going to lose his mind. And Ryu—oh, Ryu's definitely going to cry. And the Council, of course—so they can handle, uh, all the maternity stuff—"

Magali laughed through her tears, pressing a hand to his chest to steady him. "One thing at a time, sweetheart," she said, her smile soft but glowing.

He grinned, resting his forehead against hers. "One thing at a time," he echoed.

"Right, right," Conrad said, nodding furiously as if that made sense. Then he looked at her again, softer now, brushing a tear from her cheek. "I can't believe it, Mags. We're really having a baby."

Magali's heart swelled at the look in his eyes—pure love, unfiltered and proud. She cupped his cheek and whispered, "We are."

By the time they left the hospital, the rain had stopped. The clouds had parted, letting sunlight spill through the glass—gentle, golden, and new. Magali already had her phone in hand, fingers hovering over the camera icon. "I have to tell my fans," she said, smiling mischievously. "They'll never believe it unless they hear it from me first."

Conrad chuckled, sliding his arm around her shoulders as they walked into the sunlight. "You're going to break the internet, you know that?"

She winked. "Good. Our little one deserves nothing less."

As Magali snapped a picture—Conrad's arm around her, the faint glimmer of the positive test in her hand—their laughter carried through the busy streets of Sweetdance City. For once, the world felt still. Bright. Safe. They had faced chaos, loss, and uncertainty. But now… they were building a family.

They wasted no time heading to Ryu's crew hall. The familiar scent of sandalwood and baby powder met them as soon as they stepped inside—a comforting mixture that spoke of both peace and chaos, of long nights and gentle mornings. A soft lullaby played from a small speaker in the corner, its melody wrapping around the room like a warm blanket.

Little Tarlya, now toddling on unsteady legs, was sitting in the middle of the floor, her brow furrowed in deep concentration as she tried—once again—to stack a wobbly tower of colorful blocks. Every few seconds, it collapsed with a soft clack, and she'd let out a squeak of frustration before starting over.

Ryu looked up from the couch, his face breaking into a smile the instant he saw them. "Hey, you two. What brings the happy couple here so early?"

Magali exchanged a knowing glance with Conrad, her lips curving in a barely contained grin. "We've got some news," she said, her voice sing-song and brimming with excitement.

Ryu raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his warm brown eyes. "News, huh? What kind of news?"

Conrad tried to hold it in—but failed spectacularly. "We're having a baby!" he blurted out, his grin stretching ear to ear.

For a heartbeat, Ryu simply froze. Then his jaw dropped, and pure, unfiltered joy burst across his face. "No way! Are you serious!?"

Magali laughed, taking Conrad's hand and nodding. "Doctor confirmed it earlier today."

Ryu's response was explosive. He let out a jubilant shout and swooped Tarlya into his arms, spinning her in a wide circle as she squealed with laughter. "Did you hear that, sweetheart?" he said between chuckles, holding her high above his head. "You're going to have a little cousin!"

Tarlya clapped her tiny hands together, completely unaware of what a cousin was, but delighted all the same. Her laughter bubbled through the room, sweet and infectious, the kind that made everything feel lighter.

Setting her gently back on the floor, Ryu turned to them again, his smile wide but his eyes soft and glistening. "I'm so happy for you both. Seriously. After everything you've been through… you deserve this. You deserve something good."

Magali's expression softened, her voice trembling slightly. "Thank you, Ryu. It still doesn't feel real yet."

Ryu chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Oh, it's real. You'll believe it soon enough—right around the time the baby starts kicking at three in the morning."

Conrad laughed, slipping his arm around Magali's shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'll be ready," he said confidently. "We've handled tougher things."

"Ha!" Ryu snorted. "That's what every new parent says before the sleepless nights hit."

They all laughed, the sound filling the room with warmth and life. For the first time in what felt like forever, the world outside Sweetdance City's walls felt distant—irrelevant. In that little hall, surrounded by laughter, hope, and the faint hum of a lullaby, the future looked bright.

Magali giggled, rolling her eyes. "You sound just like my father."

"Well, maybe he and I both know what's coming," Ryu teased, winking at her. Then his expression softened again as he looked between them. "But really… congratulations. Khefner would've been so proud of you, Magali."

Her heart tightened at the mention of her late friend, but she smiled through it. "I think so too," she said quietly.

The three of them sat together after that, talking about baby names, nursery ideas, and how Tarlya would be the "responsible older cousin" someday. As the sun streamed through the windows, laughter and light filled the hall — the kind of peace none of them had known in far too long.

That afternoon, the Council Chamber — a place usually steeped in tension and politics — felt different. The air shimmered with sunlight streaming through the tall glass walls, reflecting off the marble floor in golden ripples. The space, so often cold and austere, carried an unfamiliar warmth, as if the city itself had paused to listen.

At the reception desk, Magali and Conrad announced their arrival, but before the clerk could even check the schedule, Roberta appeared. "They're expecting you," she said, her tone softer than usual as she guided them through the gilded corridors and into the main chamber.

The doors opened to reveal the full grandeur of the Council Hall. Eleven members sat behind the long crescent table, their formal robes draped in deep hues of blue and gold. Behind them, the massive insignia of the Sweetdance Council gleamed proudly. And though Virgo's seat remained solemnly empty, the room still seemed to hum with life.

Magali and Conrad stood hand in hand at the center of the chamber, framed by the glow of sunlight. For once, there was no hostility, no scrutiny — only anticipation.

Scorpio rose first, his calm composure softened by the faintest smile. His voice, smooth yet commanding, carried easily through the chamber. "Ladies and gentlemen of the Council," he began, "today, we are not gathered for hearings or policy. Today, we celebrate something far more meaningful."

A ripple of curiosity swept through the room. Magali blushed as all eyes turned toward her. She drew a steady breath, her fingers tightening around Conrad's hand.

"I… wanted to share some news," she began, her voice tremulous but bright. "Conrad and I… we're expecting a baby."

For a heartbeat, the chamber was utterly still. Then the silence shattered into joyous applause. The Council rose to their feet, clapping and cheering as smiles broke across their faces. The sound of their congratulations echoed through the chamber, bouncing off glass and marble like a melody of celebration. Even the solemn walls of Sweetdance seemed to breathe.

"That's wonderful news!" boomed Leo, her laughter rolling across the hall. "Sweetdance has always been a city of dreamers — but this, this is the beginning of a new legacy!"

Aquarius leaned forward, grinning mischievously. "You'll have to let me help plan the baby shower. I already have a theme in mind."

"Absolutely not," muttered Capricorn, though the faint curve of her lips betrayed her amusement. "You know well that council members cannot interfere with idol matters. Let them have their moment."

Magali laughed, her heart swelling with warmth. For the first time, the Council didn't feel like an assembly of powerful officials. They felt like family — the kind that stood with her through triumph and pain alike.

Scorpio raised a hand for calm, though even he couldn't hide his genuine smile. "You have our full support, Mrs. Artisan," he said. "You've given so much of yourself to this city. Now it's our turn to ensure you can focus on what truly matters."

He gestured to Roberta, who stepped forward with a slim folder and placed it gently on the desk before Magali. "Inside," Scorpio continued, "are your maternity leave documents. You'll be fully compensated, of course. If you need more time, the Council will grant it without question. Your health and your child's come first."

Conrad bowed his head slightly, gratitude clear in his voice. "Thank you, sir. Truly. We appreciate this more than you know."

Another round of applause rose, softer this time, but sincere, full of warmth and pride. As the sound filled the chamber, Magali felt a lightness she hadn't known in years. For once, Sweetdance City wasn't demanding or dangerous, it was kind. And for a fleeting moment, it felt like the world had made room for joy again.

As Magali and Conrad left the chamber hand in hand, the sunlight caught the ring on her finger — the same one that symbolized their love, their trials, and their triumphs. For a brief, shining moment, the future of Sweetdance felt full of hope again.

A few days later, the afternoon light spilled through the wide glass windows of the convenience store, painting long golden lines across the floor. Conrad stood behind the counter, sleeves rolled up, his smile as bright as the flickering neon sign outside. The soft hum of the refrigerators mixed with the steady beep of the scanner — a comforting rhythm that felt almost peaceful.

He moved with energy, chatting easily with customers, cracking small jokes that drew smiles even from the tired office workers passing through. Every motion carried a quiet purpose now. Every bag he filled, every receipt he handed over — it all felt like practice for something bigger.

From the back office, his manager emerged, wiping his hands on a clipboard and watching him for a moment before speaking. "You've been working hard lately, Conrad," he said, stepping closer and giving him an approving pat on the shoulder.

Conrad grinned, a spark of pride lighting his tired eyes. "Gotta set a good example, right? I'm gonna be a dad soon, can't have my kid thinking their old man slacks off."

The manager chuckled, shaking his head. "That's the spirit. Keep up the good—"

But then the words faded as Conrad's expression changed. It began with a flicker — a wince, barely noticeable — and then his breath hitched sharply. His smile faltered. A deep, searing pain bloomed in his chest, sudden and merciless. His hand shot up to his heart, his knees locking as the color drained from his face.

"Conrad?" the manager asked, confusion cutting through his voice. "Hey—are you okay?"

The pain intensified, radiating outward in waves, each heartbeat hammering like a drum against his ribs. The edges of the world blurred. The fluorescent lights above him seemed to stretch and sway.

"I—" Conrad tried to speak, but the word caught in his throat, strangled by the fire spreading through his veins. His vision tunneled, the faces around him melting into shapes and shadows. Then his legs gave way. He hit the floor hard, the sound sharp and final.

"Someone call an ambulance!" his manager shouted, panic breaking through the quiet hum of the store. A coworker dropped to their knees beside him, fumbling for their phone, while another tried to lift his head.

But Conrad could barely hear them. The sounds, the shouts, the footsteps, the ringing of the phone; all drifted into a distant echo, fading like a song underwater.

His chest still burned, but his thoughts were somewhere else now. Magali's face — smiling, radiant, framed in morning light — flashed in his mind. Her laughter, her voice, the sound of her heartbeat when he held her close. And then, darkness crept in from the edges.

The last thing he felt was the faint vibration of the floor beneath him and the echo of his own voice — or maybe just the memory of it — whispering her name.

Outside, the night in Sweetdance City pulsed with color and motion. Neon lights bled across the slick pavement, their reflections rippling in puddles left by a recent rain. Holographic billboards flickered and danced above the streets, projecting idols, advertisements, and dreams, the heartbeat of a city that never truly slept.

But inside the small convenience store on the corner of the Shopping District, that vibrant world might as well have been galaxies away. The only light that mattered now was the harsh, sterile glow from the ambulance parked just outside. Red and white beams flashed through the glass doors, painting the aisles in a stuttering rhythm of emergency.

Paramedics flooded through the entrance, their voices sharp and clipped as they moved around the fallen man. Conrad lay pale and motionless on the cold tile floor, his breath shallow, his pulse faint but fighting. The soft chime of the store's automated door opening again and again was drowned beneath the urgent commands. —

"BP dropping!"

"Clear a path!"

"Ready the defibrillator!"

The scent of antiseptic and rain filled the air as one of the medics pressed the oxygen mask to his face. His shirt, torn open at the chest, exposed the small scar that still marked where life had nearly left him once before.

"Hang on, Conrad," one of them murmured, adjusting the IV. "Don't you give up on me."

Conrad didn't respond. His world had narrowed to flickers of light and fading sound — the screech of tires, the pulse of sirens, the phantom echo of Magali's laughter somewhere in the distance.

⸻

Across the city, in the quiet warmth of their home in the Homestead District, Magali sat cross-legged on the nursery floor. A soft lullaby hummed from her phone speaker as she folded a pile of freshly purchased baby onesies, the air around her faintly scented with lavender detergent and hope.

She held up the tiny onesie patterned with stars and smiled, her heart swelling with the thought of Conrad's face when he'd see it. He had been so excited lately — glowing with the kind of happiness she hadn't seen in him since their wedding.

Her phone began to ring on the changing table. The familiar tune broke through the gentle music. She glanced over, her smile deepening when she saw the name flashing on the screen: Convenience Store.

"Calling me again?" she murmured, reaching for it. "You're supposed to be—"

But the voice that answered wasn't his.

"Mrs. Artisan?" It was trembling, hurried — the kind of tone people only used when they didn't know how to say what came next.

Her smile faltered. "Yes, this is she."

"There's been… an incident. Your husband... he—"

The rest of the words didn't register. Her fingers went cold. The color drained from her face. The folded onesie slipped from her hands and fell silently to the floor, landing among the others like a small, white ghost.

For a long, fragile moment, the world around her held its breath. The hum of the lullaby continued softly in the background — a cruel, gentle reminder of the life they'd been planning together.

Then Magali moved, her chair scraping back against the hardwood. Her heart thundered against her ribs, her voice breaking as she whispered into the phone, "Where is he?"

But even as the voice on the other end began to answer, she was already reaching for the door. The world outside their home already dissolving into the blur of sirens and rain.