Chapter 3: The Orders 2

Charlie’s mind raced faster than ever before, heavy with the burden of a king’s responsibility—the kind bestowed upon only one in a billion. Yet, no word had come from his people. The weight of silence pressed upon him.

Glancing up, he noticed the date on a simple wall calendar hanging nearby: 3/1/2000 (D/M/Y).

He breathed out slowly, a fierce spark lighting his eyes. “By the same day next year,” he murmured, voice steady yet charged with conviction, “their lives will be better than anyone in this world could ever imagine.”

With those words, he pushed himself up and strode back to his room. The echo of his footsteps quiet in the dim hallway. As his hand touched the door, his gaze faltered, his mind drifting to her—

His sister.

Is she alright? he wondered silently. There’s no one else in this world for her but me.

That thought weighed heavy on his heart.

He entered the bedroom, its dim light wrapping him in a melancholy embrace. Without ceremony, he sank onto the bed, the fabric cool beneath him. With a soft click, he switched off the light.

The darkness encased him, and sleep beckoned slowly.

But sleep was restless. Through the blackness, distant voices whispered and wavered like fragile wings.

“Brother... brother... Brother... wake up, brother!” The voice cracked with urgency, trembling with tears. “Wake up, brother... please.”

His eyes fluttered open. The voice was unmistakable—Aivi.

He turned his head slowly, confusion knitting his brows. There she was—his sister, just as he remembered: tear-streaked cheeks, trembling lips.

“Aivi...” he breathed, voice hoarse.

Her eyes, swollen and red, met his. “Brother, you’re finally awake!” Her voice was a fragile mix of relief and disbelief.

His surroundings shifted suddenly, becoming familiar—the worn wooden frame of his childhood bed, the faded walls of their small home. The scent of old wood and dust.

Beside them stood a large man, his presence commanding yet wary. His face rough-hewn, eyes grave.

“Who are you, mister?” the man demanded, stepping forward, voice low but firm.

Charlie tried to show calm. “I’m no one. Just... take care of this boy’s health. He seems to have serious problems.” With that, he turned and began to walk away.

Aivi clung to him tightly, her shoulders shaking with every sob. He steadied her with gentle hands.

“It’s okay, Aivi. It’s okay now.” His voice was soothing, whispering calm. “Look at me.”

He moved her gently, cupping her tear-streaked face with both hands. Her red-rimmed eyes blinked, nose twitching as she sniffed hard.

His lips brushed her forehead tenderly. “It’s all going to be alright.”

She wiped at her cheeks, a faint smile breaking through tears.

“Look,” he said, sitting up slowly, legs dangling from the bed as if he was ready to rise. He flexed his toes deliberately.

Aivi’s eyes widened, frozen in wonder.

“Why are you just staring?” he teased softly. “I can walk now... see?”

He stood, arms out to steady himself. “I can walk, Aivi. Look—”

He began to jump lightly, his feet landing with surprising strength on the floor.

“I can jump... I can even do sit-ups.”

“How... how is that possible, brother?” Her voice trembled, a mix of awe and disbelief.

Charlie shrugged, smiling with an expressive tilt of his head. “Beats me. What do you think?”

She pondered quietly, her brows knitting. “Maybe you just woke up from sleep... and your legs are back.”

He shook his head, lips compressed in doubt. “Maybe. But... what time is it?”

Aivi glanced toward a worn cloak hanging on a chair, then gestured to a calendar pinned nearby.

“It’s night. Almost midnight. The date says 11:54, 01/03/2026 (M/D/Y). Wait, weren’t you in Suriya?”

She blinked, confusion clouding her gaze. “What’s Suriya?”

He bent closer, brushing loose strands of hair from her face softly. “Nothing important. Hey, did you eat?”

Aivi nodded silently.

Charlie smiled warmly. “Great. How about we go outside? Just for tonight?”

Her face lit up instantly. “Really? You mean it?”

He nodded. “Yes. Let’s go.”

“Yay!” she giggled, hugging him tightly before leaping off the bed.

Hand in hand, they walked quietly to the door. Charlie closed it behind them, the soft click a promise of a new beginning.

The night air was cool but alive as they stepped onto the familiar footpath. Shops remained open, windows casting amber glows onto the pavement.

Charlie took in the sights, a quiet smile hidden behind steady eyes. He made mental notes—he couldn’t always afford the finer places, but he knew where to find the simplest meals.

Even at midnight, the streets were alive, bustling with late diners and night owls. He spotted a Chinese restaurant with a faded neon sign.

“We can get full meals here for half price,” he said, slipping a few bills and coins from his pocket. “Twenty bucks, more or less.”

He scanned the menu board, worn but clear:

Chicken Fried Rice – $15

Egg Fried Rice – $10

Vegetable Fried Rice – $10

Pot Noodles – $10

“That’ll be enough,” he said softly to himself and stepped inside.

The restaurant buzzed quietly with conversations, the aroma of spices wrapping around them. He noticed more Indian and American faces than Chinese—a small cultural patchwork.

At the counter, he ordered, “One Chicken Fried Rice, please.”

The woman behind the counter handed him a numbered token. He moved to the food counter, watched as rice was scooped into a box, five chunks of chicken placed carefully atop, more rice pressed down firmly by a spoon despite the rain tapping against the window.

“Here you go, kid,” she said, sliding the container forward with a smile.

Charlie took the food boxes carefully, bracing against the damp chill outside as he walked Aivi back home.

“Why chicken, brother?” she asked softly.

He shrugged with a tired grin. “Because it’s late, and the Indian restaurants and vans have closed for the night. We can’t make the trip downtown anymore.”

She nodded in quiet understanding as they entered the house.

Inside, Charlie frowned. “Where’s my phone, Aivi?”

“Right on the bed table,” she replied.

He moved to the kitchen to fetch plates and set the dining table. Returning, he picked up the cracked phone, grimacing at the spiderweb of broken glass.

“Two hours of work just to fix this again,” he muttered, powering it on.

Messages blinked in the dim light. Tilting the phone with difficulty, he squinted at the screen.

“You’ve received $10,000 into your account 1635xxxxxxx,” read the notification.

He blinked, stunned. “Is this for real?” he mumbled, hastily opening the banking app.

Chase Bank—balance: $15,732.

His mind spun. “How did ten thousand dollars just appear? Was it a mistake?”

“Brother, let’s eat,” Aivi’s voice floated from the living room.

Setting the phone aside, unsure what to think, Charlie stood and joined her at the dining table.

After they ate their fill, Carlos tucked Aivi into bed, her soft breathing steady in the quiet room.

He retreated to his own bed, eyes lingering on the phone balance before slipping it into his pants.

His eyes closed.

But sleep did not come easy.

He dreamt again. The same old bedroom, the soft pillows, the bounce of a bed he hadn’t felt before.

He shot upright, heart hammering. The familiar surroundings surrounded him, the calendar’s date catching his eye:

4/1/2000.

“It’s real,” he whispered, voice thick with awe. “I’m back.”

Slowly, as breath steadied in his chest, he sat on the edge of the bed and steeled himself.

“I don’t understand what’s happening... but I know I have work to do.”

The burden of a king’s life awaited.

He rose, determination firm in his gaze, and prepared to face the day ahead.

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