After about twenty minutes, the city view began to change.
He noticed more modest buildings lining the streets.
Many of the buildings showed signs of age, with peeling paint and worn shutters, but this area was still bustling with activity.
People strolled along the sidewalks, chatting with friends and neighbors, while children played in the nearby parks.
Ding!
The sound of the train doors opening pulled him from his thoughts.
He slowly exited the train and started walking toward his destination.
Eventually, he spotted a two-story building with worn white paint that looked really shabby.
If it weren't for the large, old sign that read "HOSPITAL," with the "H" no longer glowing, people might have mistaken it for a haunted house.
The faded letters and peeling paint gave the place a neglected feel, and the surrounding area felt spooky.
Despite its shabby look, a few people ca and went, suggesting that the hospital was still open.
He walked inside. After identifying himself at the reception, he made his way to a room down the hall.
Inside was an old lady lying on a bed. Wrinkles covered her face, like little lines telling stories of her life.
"Asher, how was your school? Are you taking good care of your body?" she asked with a shaky voice.
She was Asher's adopted mom, the one who took care of him . Hilda.
His fate was tragic—worse than that of a puppy. Even mother dogs stay with their pups longer.
Fortunately, Hilda, was there for him.
"Don't worry, Mom. I'm eating on ti," he said, trying to reassure her.
Sitting next to her, he started peeling an orange – her favorite.
The room filled with the sweet sll as he carefully pulled the slices apart.
Those oranges ant more to her than just fruit; they were a sign of his care and hard work.
"I got paid from my part-ti job," he added, handing her a slice.
"That's great. I'm proud of you ," She smiled back at him.
His mother fell ill three years ago when she used to work as an on-call maid .
Back then, he was just a regular student, good at fighting but using his skills only for self-defense, never to bully others.
As for his adoptive father, he faced an unjust fate ten years ago. While selling peanuts on the bustling streets, a car unexpectedly veered off course and struck him.
After the investigation, it was revealed that the driver was drunk and had lost control of the vehicle.
However, despite all the evidence pointing to his negligence, the tragedy went unanswered. He had powerful connections that shielded him from facing any consequences.
It was one of those experiences that made Asher very aware of how unfair the world could be to the poor, regardless of how compassionate or law-abiding they were.
In the end, money spoke louder than anything else.
Despite these unfortunate events, his mother continued to take good care of him. She constantly reminded him to never lose hope.
But the added workload took a toll on her health, leaving her more exhausted and unwell
It wasn't until she fell seriously ill that he completely lost faith in humanity.
No good hospital was willing to treat her because of insurance Issues.
Asher even attempted to sue the insurance company, but they claid that his mother had sohow violated her policy, leaving him feeling frustrated and powerless.
They were forced to accept a lump sum settlent that was far less than what she really deserved.
This outco only added to his sense of injustice, showing the cruel reality of a system that prioritized profit over people.
Now, he found himself forced to confine his mother to a third-rate hospital, a place lacking the resources and care she desperately needed.
The worn-down walls and faded signs reflected the neglect that perated the facility.
The staff were overworked and underpaid, struggling to provide even the most basic care.
Each visit filled him with a sense of helplessness as he watched his mother's condition decline.
He was frustrated, knowing that this was not the environnt she deserved.
"Son, maybe it's ti we give up?" Hilda said, her voice gentle yet firm, seeing through him.
He might appear strong and composed on the outside, but she understood that he was quietly enduring the weight of everything.
Hilda had watched him struggle, taking on responsibilities that felt far too heavy for soone his age.
"I'm old already, and I'm tired," she added, her eyes reflecting the exhaustion that had settled deep within her.
It wasn't tiredness from life, but the sadness of seeing her son paying the bills.
She knew the hospital costs were piling up, and Asher could have used that money for himself.
The emotional pain of watching her son sacrifice so much for her wellbeing was agonizing.
She couldn't have asked for more. She had raised him with love, and he always showed deep respect and a warmth of familial love that touched her heart.
"Mom, let's not talk about this anymore," he forced a smile, not wanting to go deeper into the conversation.
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