Ever since I was little, I loved taking things apart. The best part? I could put them back together like nothing ever happened. After graduation, I was broke. Armed with this odd little talent, I landed a high-paying job as a live-in caregiver. Word on the street was my employer was paralyzed from the waist down, deeply brooding, and had already driven away seven previous caregivers. Since he and I were around the same age, his mother decided to give me a shot. Before I went into his room, she kept warning me, “Sweetheart, keep your head down, speak less, observe less, and just focus on your work.” I nodded. But just as I reached the door, I heard the deadbolt click from the inside. Her face drained of color. She started pounding on the door in panic. “Sebastian, open the door! Don’t scare Mom like this!” The butler fumbled with the spare key for ages, but the lock wouldn’t budge. As everyone spiraled into chaos around me, I pulled a bobby pin from my hair. “Um… do you mind if I give it a try?” The second the door swung open, my breath hitched in my throat. The golden boy I used to harbor a secret crush on back in high school was sitting right there in a wheelchair. When our eyes met, he froze too. Then his face turned stone cold. “Get out.” 1 My dad was a legend in our neighborhood, known far and wide as the appliance whisperer. He could fix anything, except broken hearts. I grew up as his little apprentice. While other kids were taking piano lessons, I was taking apart rice cookers. Dad always felt guilty about it, wishing he had the money to send me to fancy extracurriculars. But I genuinely had a knack for fixing things. Anything that ended up in my hands, if it could be taken apart, I could repair it. Disassembling stuff built my physical strength, and fixing it sharpened my mind. I loved figuring things out, turning junk into something useful, and making useful things even better. Other parents prayed for their kids to become doctors or lawyers. My dad? He just prayed to God every single day that whatever I broke today was a small trinket, not something he couldn’t afford to replace. When I graduated from college, my classmates all headed off to big tech firms or major metropolis centers. Dad hoped I would chase those big city dreams too. Every time we video-called, he looked like he wanted to say something, then held back. I knew he missed me, but he was afraid of holding me back. So on graduation day, I packed my bags and hopped on the first train home. The moment I arrived, I caught a group of local thugs making trouble at our shop. Growing up, I had seen this scenario a million times. Dad was insanely skilled, but he charged next to nothing. Dishonest vendors who sold cheap appliances couldn’t make sales, so they dumped all their frustration on our shop. Back then, they were cowardly, smashing our windows in the middle of the night. Dad was gentle and timid, but I was not. Even as a kid, I would march out the next morning swinging a plastic toy staff, demanding justice. To make sure I didn’t hit the wrong person, I ended up beating up every notorious young delinquent on our block. As soon as I stepped inside the shop today, one of those grown-up delinquents had his dirty boot slammed right on my dad’s workbench. “Old man, just accept it,” he sneered. “Sign the agreement early, it’s better for everyone.” I marched over and slapped the back of three thugs’ heads in one swift motion. The impact rattled my own palm. “What the hell! Who…” The guy spun around, eyes widening in terror. “Sum… Summer! You’re back!” Only then did I notice the contract on the bench. It was a shop transfer agreement. The thugs were trembling, almost falling to their knees in fear. “Summer, please, help us convince your dad! The manufacturer said if he just hands over the shop, they’ll cover the victim’s medical bills!” Victim? Compensation? My brows pulled together in a tight scowl. That was when I learned those greedy bastards had set a trap for my dad. They hired a scumbag to pull a scam, claiming the kettle coupler my dad replaced was defective. They said it sparked the moment it was plugged in, scaring an elderly relative so badly she ended up in the hospital. The other side came prepared with forged evidence and a slick lawyer, demanding forty thousand dollars in compensation. If we couldn’t pay, we had to surrender the shop to them for free. My dad wasn’t just fixing appliances all his life, he was maintaining his integrity. He barely made a dollar or two on repairs, and after raising me, he had virtually no savings. With the old lady still lying in the hospital, Dad felt trapped into paying, but there was no way he could satisfy their outrageous extortion. Afraid of burdening me, he hadn’t uttered a single word, bearing the crushing weight all by himself. I knew how much this shop meant to him, how hard he fought to keep his conscience clean. I yanked open the shop’s front door and pointed at the thugs. “Get the hell out. I will figure out the money.” “If any of you dare to come back and cause trouble, I won’t just slap you, I’ll drag you out in pieces!” 2 Dad was consumed by guilt. The man who used to smile so warmly in my memories now looked completely broken. He felt his stubborn honesty had dragged me into this mess. When a parent faces the storm, if their child doesn’t stand beside them, who will? I patted his shoulder, forcing a bright smile. “It’s fine, Pop. Trust me, every dark tunnel has an exit.” Later, sitting outside the shop sucking on a Popsicle, panic finally began to set in. Forty grand. Where in the world was a fresh graduate supposed to get forty thousand dollars? Was a sugar daddy going to magically fall from the sky and hand me a briefcase full of cash? Sighing, I scrolled through a job hunting app. My finger paused on an opening right here in the city: Live-in Caregiver. Ten thousand dollars a month. I almost dropped my Popsicle. Good lord. The magic briefcase really just dropped into my lap. It wasn’t until I arrived at the estate that I realized high pay always comes with a catch. The young master had been in a horrific car accident a few years ago. Ever since, he had become deeply withdrawn and aggressive, driving away seven caregivers in a row. Seeing that I was around his age, his mother, Mrs. Bennett, agreed to give me a shot. Before taking me to his bedroom, she reminded me repeatedly, “Sweetheart, don’t stare at his legs. Speak less, observe less, and just do your job.” I nodded. But the moment we stepped up to his door, I heard the deadbolt lock from the inside. Mrs. Bennett panicked, terrified he might do something drastic. She pounded on the door frantically. “Sebastian! Sebastian, open the door! Don’t scare Mom like this!” The butler fumbled with the master key for minutes, but it wouldn’t open. With everyone running around like headless chickens, I pulled out my hairpin. “Um… let me give it a try?” The fastest locksmith would take at least half an hour. Desperate times called for desperate measures, so they scrambled out of my way. Picking a bedroom lock was child’s play for me. I slipped the hairpin into the keyhole, gave it a quick twist, and clicked the mechanism open. I pushed the door open, and the second I saw the man inside, my breath caught in my throat. A face I knew all too well was trapped in that wheelchair. His spine was straight, desperately clinging to the last shreds of his dignity. But his head was lowered, those once-dazzling eyes hollow and devoid of life, filled only with a quiet, bleak despair. My feet felt glued to the floor. I stared at him, my mind spinning in utter disbelief. He was the golden boy I secretly loved back in high school. Brilliant, wealthy, and impossibly kind. Sebastian froze when he saw me. I knew he didn’t remember me. He was simply shocked that someone had picked his lock so fast. His pale, strikingly handsome face instantly turned cold. Across all those years of distance and memory, his voice sounded unfamiliar now. I heard him speak. “Get out.” 3 The people behind me surged into the bedroom. Sebastian realized what they were about to do, his pupils dilating in sudden horror. Before he could even fight back, the staff expertly unfastened the restraint straps on his wheelchair armrests and bound his wrists tight. His feet were secured the exact same way. He let out a desperate, gut-wrenching howl like a trapped beast. “Mom! Stop this! Just let me go, please… let me end it!” Someone injected a sedative into his arm. Mrs. Bennett’s eyes brimmed with tears. She gently caressed her son’s reddened wrists, though her gaze remained resolute. “Sebastian, don’t hate Mom… I just can’t bear the thought of losing you.” The drug took effect rapidly. His eyes went blank, a single tear slipping down his cheek before he lost consciousness. In the formal living room, Mrs. Bennett slid an envelope full of cash across the table with her left hand and a contract with her right. “Summer, I am very impressed with you. If you’re willing to stay, I will raise the salary to twenty thousand a month.” “As you can see, Sebastian’s physical disability is nothing compared to his psychological trauma.” “He keeps trying to end his life. I had to beg him to stay with me for just another six months. If he’s still in this much agony by then… I’ll let him go.” Her voice cracked with a sob. “Summer, if you don’t want to take the job, I’ll pay you for two weeks right now as a thank you for saving his life today.” Only six months left to live? Without a second thought, I pushed the cash envelope back, grabbed the pen, and signed my name on the contract. The moment I finished signing, regret hit me. You acted way too impulsively, Summer! You didn’t even read the contract! It’s not like you still have feelings for him after all these years… Right? No way. Absolutely not. I sat there shaking my head violently, chanting in my mind: I’m doing this for twenty grand a month! Twenty grand a month! At this rate, I only need to work four months to pay off my dad’s debt. Yeah, that’s it! I muttered under my breath, “I’m strictly in it for myself. I’m out of here in four months.” Mrs. Bennett couldn’t hear what I mumbled. Tears spilled over again as she grasped my hand, sobbing uncontrollably. “Thank you, Summer. Thank you so much!” 4 The family doctor said the dosage given to Sebastian would only keep him asleep for two hours. Timing it carefully, I went up to his room right before he was due to wake up. On his nightstand sat a strange custom calendar. I flipped through it. The pages only went up to December twenty-fourth. Christmas Eve. I remembered what Mrs. Bennett said about promising him six months. So… his deadline was Christmas Eve. Sebastian lay on the bed with his eyes closed, his face pale from a long absence of sunlight. Yet that face was still sharp and devastatingly handsome, just as I remembered. The boyish softness was gone, replaced by a refined, mature edge around his brow and eyes. He was terribly thin, though, so thin it made my heart ache. I was lost in thought when I noticed his brows pulling together. Fine beads of cold sweat broke out on his forehead, his breathing growing ragged as if caught in a terrible nightmare. I quickly went into the bathroom, grabbed a towel, and ran it under warm water. The moment my fingertips touched his skin, his hand shot up and clamped around my wrist. I flinched, looking down. Sebastian had opened his eyes. They were bloodshot, pupils unfocused, completely detached from reality. His grip was impossibly strong, squeezing my wrist until it throbbed with pain. I nearly swore out loud. Damn it, I’m going to end up in the ER before I even see my first paycheck! When I used to have night terrors as a kid, my dad would hold my hand tight and whisper over and over that he was there, that I didn’t need to be afraid. Sighing, I imitated my dad, calling out softly. “Sebastian?” He didn’t respond, just clutched my hand like a lifeline. His upper body curled inward instinctively, but his lower body wouldn’t obey, causing him even greater distress. I hesitated for a moment, then reached my free hand under his blanket, gently supporting his waist to turn him onto his side. “Sebastian, it’s okay. I’m here. Don’t be scared.” Whether it was the curled posture or the soothing words, his rapid breathing gradually leveled out. Yet he never let go of my wrist. When his eyes fluttered open again, clarity slowly returned to his gaze. His eyes tracked down to our locked hands. As if scorched by fire, he snapped his hand back. I quickly pulled back my numb wrist, secretly shaking it out. His voice was raspier than before. “Who allowed you to touch me?” I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Honest to God, you were the one holding on for dear life.” His expression darkened. He hit a button by the headboard. “Who are you? What are you doing in my room?” Before I could answer, a knock sounded at the door. The butler stood at the threshold, out of breath. “Young Master, you’re awake…” So that button was a panic alarm to call staff. I frowned. They came fast. They weren’t going to install one of those for me to be on call twenty-four seven, were they? High pay really does come with high stress! “Young Master, this is Miss Summer, the new live-in caregiver hired by Madam.” “She will be looking after your daily needs from now on.” Sebastian refused to cooperate. “I don’t need her. Tell her to leave.” The butler looked caught in an awkward position, his eyes darting between Sebastian and me. If he didn’t tell me to leave, he’d offend the young master. If he told me to leave, he’d offend the mistress. I put on a casual front. “It’s fine. Even if I step out, I can always get back in.” Sebastian glared at me, his tone dropping several degrees colder. “What do you mean by that?” “Literally what I said. Picking this bedroom lock is a walk in the park for me.” Realization dawned on him. I was the one who picked his lock this morning. “Ha. People with far more experience than you couldn’t last two weeks here. You’ll quit within a week.” I grinned. “Well, that leaves us with a whole week, doesn’t it?” “You!” The butler couldn’t suppress a slight smile. He glanced back and forth between us, settling his gaze on me. “Miss Summer, I’ll leave it to you to bring the Young Master down for lunch. I’ll head down to the dining room to set up.” 5 Sebastian was stubbornly uncooperative. He loathed my touch, shifting his own body into the wheelchair with sheer willpower. When the chair moved forward, I assumed he was heading out for lunch. Instead, he rolled over to the bay window and froze. He sat there like a melancholy statue. I leaned against the glass and looked out. Nothing special, just a bed of half-withered flowers sweltering in the sun. “Sebastian, let’s go eat.” He didn’t even glance at me, completely ignoring my presence. I crouched down beside his wheelchair, inspecting the restraint straps installed on the armrests and footrests. A heavy, intense glare bore down on me from above. “Summer?” “Summer, what do you think you’re doing?” Seeing my hands touch the straps, his voice turned sharp and frantic. “Summer! If you dare to tie me up, you’re fired today!” “Summer, are you listening to me?” “Summer, get out of my room! Out!” So noisy. I reached for the buckle, gave it a firm squeeze and twist, and the strap popped right off. I unclipped the footrest straps just as easily. As the two restraint straps dropped to the floor, his eyes trembled. His furious struggle vanished, replaced by an incredulous question. “You… you’re not tying me down?” I dusted off my hands and met his gaze. “You’re not crazy. Why would I tie you up?” He bit his lip, his pale face remaining guarded, but his fingers gripped the armrests so hard his knuckles turned white. “Don’t think this means I’ll cooperate with you… Summer!” He let out an unexpected gasp. His cold, aloof composure shattered instantly. I had scooped him up into my arms, holding him firmly, and even tossed him gently like a sack of flour just to tease him. “No worries. I’ll find a way to make you listen.” “And just so we’re clear, I didn’t remove those straps to bargain with you. I just hate seeing anyone forced through that kind of misery.” “So you don’t have to obey me, but if you have a shred of kindness in you, please make my job a little easier. I’m begging you.” He turned his head away, refusing to look at me. Sighing, I placed him back in the wheelchair and pushed him toward the door. Just as we crossed the threshold, I heard his voice, soft as a feather. “Okay.” 6 The fact that I successfully brought Sebastian downstairs for lunch caused quite a stir among the staff. Everyone tried to act casual, but after lunch, once I settled Sebastian in for his afternoon nap, they swarmed me the second I stepped out of his room. “Summer, you’re amazing! This is the first time since his accident that he came down for lunch on time.” “Right! Before this, he’d either come down super late or refuse to eat altogether.” “We used to reheat his food three times before giving up and cooking a fresh meal to bring up to his room.” In my memories, he was someone who always considered others. He was never like this. Had the accident completely altered his personality? I asked softly, “How did he end up in a wheelchair?” The room fell quiet for a moment. One of the maids lowered her voice. “A car crash.” “Her name and that incident are absolute taboo in this house. Summer, just keep it to yourself, never bring it up in front of the Young Master or Madam.” “It happened the year he was heading abroad for college. That girl… what was her name again? Sienna, right, Sienna.” My heart skipped a beat. Sienna. A name I knew all too well. Our high school beauty, and Sebastian’s rumored girlfriend. They came from similar wealthy backgrounds, grew up together as childhood sweethearts, and everyone said they were a match made in heaven. “Let me tell you,” another maid chimed in. “Young Master and Sienna were supposed to fly out together. On the day they were heading to the airport, Young Master had already arrived when Sienna called him. She claimed something came up and begged him to pick her up.” “Young Master didn’t think twice. But on his way to get her, his car got broadsided. And guess what? After the accident, that girl didn’t visit him even once. She just went abroad by herself. Ah, our Young Master used to be such a bright, cheerful boy…” “Summer, whatever you do, never mention her name in front of him.” So it was because of Sienna? I nodded automatically, though a sudden, bitter ache flooded my chest. Forget it, Summer. How many years has it been? You can’t possibly still hold a torch for him. You’re his employee now, nothing more. Just do your job, save up enough money, and leave as soon as possible. Ever since the crash, Sebastian had become deeply reclusive. After observing him for a few days, I noticed he spent most of his time sitting by the window, staring blankly outside. Curious, I followed his gaze one afternoon. Outside was just a flower patch, half-withered under the scorching sun. While he was resting, I took a walk down to the garden. The sprinkler system was clogged with thick limescale. No wonder half his view was blooming while the other half looked sad and dying. I grabbed a piece of thin wire and meticulously cleared out every single nozzle on the sprinkler heads. Whenever I got hands-on with fixing things, I lost all track of time and surroundings. I didn’t even notice the curtains on the second-floor bedroom window sliding open. 7 After fixing the sprinklers, I turned my attention to Sebastian’s wheelchair. The butler mentioned it was a custom import from overseas, featuring state-of-the-art tech. But no one realized that sitting in it for long stretches was actually uncomfortable. I pulled a screwdriver from my pocket, crouched down, and began inspecting the frame. Sebastian’s brow twitched. “Summer, what are you doing?” I didn’t have time to answer. My fingers traced the axle, the wheels, then moved to the footrests and armrests. Just as I suspected, the adjustments were all off. No wonder he hated going outside. His main mode of transportation was misaligned. First, the center of gravity was wrong. Sitting like that for hours would wreak havoc on anyone’s lower back. Second, the footrests were set too high, leaving his thighs suspended without proper support. The armrests were an inch too tall as well, forcing his shoulders into a permanent, strained shrug. These micro-flaws were invisible to an outsider, but torture for someone stuck in the chair all day. “Summer, what are you fixing?” “Don’t waste your time. If you break a part, we’ll have to order replacements from Europe…” He was still resisting, grumbling from the seat. I tightened the last screw, stood up, and wiped my brow. “Try moving forward.” Skeptical, Sebastian operated the controls. His expression shifted instantly. “You… you know how to fix this too?” “This is nothing. I was fixing color TVs when I was three.” Once the wheelchair was sorted, I noticed the estate’s accessibility ramps were poorly constructed. These things were meant to be tailored to the user’s specific needs. But since Sebastian rarely went out, they had been neglected for years. I modified the last slope in the garden, smoothing out the concrete, and stuck a crude handwritten sign at the base. “What are you doing now?” Sebastian had rolled out without me realizing. His gaze wasn’t on me, but on the crooked wooden board. Wet Concrete. Do Not Step. He stared at those words, a flicker of shock washing over his usually stone-cold eyes. For the first time, ripples broke through his calm facade. “Upgraded the hardware and software around the yard,” I said, dusting off my heavy-duty work gloves and walking over to pat his shoulder. “That way, whenever you feel like coming out, the path is wide open.” Assuming his shock was gratitude, I grinned. “If you think I did a good job, feel free to give me a raise, Boss.” Sebastian looked up at me. His eyes held an emotion I couldn’t quite read. It shifted from doubt to sudden realization, and finally into something firm and intense. He asked, “Summer… have we met somewhere before?” I froze on the spot, my heart hammering against my ribs.
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