*Beep* *Beep* *Beep* *Beep*
Without opening my eyes, I flung my hand toward the side of my bed, grabbed my phone, and turned off the alarm.
It was my work alarm, telling me that it was exactly six in the morning. But work started at seven, and it was only a fifteen-minute drive. So I had plenty of time to spare.
Just five more minutes. That's all I need…
Just as I was about to doze off once more, my alarm blared again.
I swore I'd just turned it off, but when I checked the time again, it turned out five minutes had passed.
As much as I would have liked to sleep in or call in sick, the thought of my next paycheque coming up short because of my own laziness was a cruel enough reality check to push me forward.
With a heavy heart, I sat up and rubbed my tired eyes, wiping the crusts from the corners. The small sting of it stirred my mind awake, burning off the last of the grogginess.
Despite it being morning, my room was still fairly dark. The sun had only just started to rise, so the light hadn't reached my windows yet. Instead, I was welcomed by the cool indigo hue of the early sky.
I covered my mouth, letting out one final yawn, then got up from bed.
Since I'd be working outside for thirteen hours today, I didn't bother styling my hair, since it was going to get ruined anyway.
I also skipped a morning shower. I was more of a night-shower kind of person anyway, and taking a shower knowing I'd come home drenched in sweat felt like a waste of water and soap.
On top of that, this would basically be the first day that I didn't hang out with Mei. Chances were, I was going to be dead tired by the time my shift ended, so I would probably just want to rest at home—which Mei had insisted I do anyway.
But depending on how it went, maybe we'd meet up for an hour or two or go on a video call. Either way, it should be fine. We were going to text throughout the day like we always did, so it shouldn't be a problem.
Oh, right. I almost forgot.
As I brushed my teeth, I picked up my phone and opened my chat with Mei. My messages from yesterday were still left unread—which made sense considering she most likely hadn't woken up yet.
I wasn't in a rush, so I took my time typing out my usual morning message to her.
Of course, just like always, there were spelling errors. But it was more legible compared to my other texts, so it should've been fine.
After brushing my teeth, I quickly rinsed off my face, dried it with a towel, and changed into cargo pants and a white long-sleeved shirt. You'd think that I'd wear short sleeves, given how much I'd sweat—but by wearing a long-sleeved shirt, it would absorb my sweat and get damp, so every time a breeze came through, it'd cool me down more.
This was one of the very few useful tips my Dad taught me that I ended up actually using.
Once I finished getting changed, I grabbed my phone, wallet, earbuds, and headed downstairs.
The first thing I noticed as I tiptoed into the living room was Mom's unconscious body sleeping on the couch. It seemed that she did eventually get inside after all.
Without thinking much of it, I moved toward the kitchen counter. Just like every day, there was a small lunch box with a small note attached to it.
I picked up the sticky note and squinted. I couldn't actually read it since the black ink blended into the dark of the living room, but I was sure it was the same note she left me every day: "I made lunch for you. Make sure to eat and don't starve yourself during work. It's not healthy for you – Mom."
After taking the time to confirm that I was indeed correct, I tossed the note into the garbage bin.
I didn't crumple it up. I just left the paper as spotless as she'd left it.
I packed the lunch into the bag I carried for work, then sat down on the couch—the one Mom wasn't sleeping on.
There was still a little bit of time before I had to head out, so I spent some of it scrolling on my phone.
Then, as it was about time to go, Dad came down the stairs, covering his mouth as he let out a loud yawn.
I didn't pay him much mind. It wasn't like I could just sit and stare at him, anyway. I simply stood up, grabbed my bag, and made my way into the garage.
The car was unlocked since it was kept in the garage, so I didn't have to wait for Dad to unlock it to step into the passenger seat. Shortly after I arrived, Dad followed me in and took the driver's seat.
Without exchanging any words, he started the car and drove off.
He'd been doing this every time I had work. While I didn't mind taking public transportation, both Mom and Dad insisted that he take me. I didn't complain about it—it meant more sleep for me.
But since it was so early in the morning, neither of us was in the mood to talk.
Dad wore a somewhat grumpy expression, his face lacking the familiar childish smile, as he focused on the road. And I couldn't even be bothered to do anything but lean back in my seat and close my eyes.
The silence stretched on for a couple of minutes before Dad cleared his throat and asked in a slightly rough, raspy tone, "So, how was work yesterday?"
While it did annoy me that I was being spoken to when I just wanted to relax, I didn't let it show on my face or in my voice.
"It was fine," I replied as neutrally as I could, with my eyes still closed.
Dad let out a small chuckle. "Really? 'Cause it looks to me like you're a little tired."
Of course I'd be tired. I was someone who stayed up late and had to get up early for work. I wasn't a superhuman or anything.
But still, if Dad was pointing it out, it probably looked really bad. And I couldn't—and wouldn't—let him see me like that.
So, I reluctantly opened my eyes and fixed my posture.
"Well, everything will be solved once I get paid," I said with a soft groan, adjusting myself in the seat. "Money is the solution to all my problems."
"Haha! I used to think that way too." Dad nodded along happily, though with a hint of nostalgia. "But the older you get, the more you realize money doesn't buy happiness."
That was how the saying went—but I didn't believe that. If I had twenty digits in my bank account, I'd be the happiest man on earth.
"Yeah, you can keep telling yourself that. If money doesn't buy you happiness, how about you give all of yours to me? It'd make me 100% happy."
Dad's head snapped toward me. He put on an extremely overdramatic, flabbergasted look as he stared at me, speechless.
"Whoa, I wouldn't go that far. I said it doesn't buy happiness—not that I hate having it."
I shrugged, a smug grin on my face. "Looks like I was right then. Money buys happiness. If you were truly happy, you'd give it all away to your precious Son without a second thought."
Dad scoffed. "If you keep thinking like that, you won't ever be happy, you know."
"Nah. I'll be happy as long as the money in my bank account doesn't reach zero."
After that, he and I got into a whole debate, recycling the same points about whether or not money bought happiness. Well, it was less of a debate and more of him trying to bestow some Fatherly guidance, but it was the same thing to me.
Eventually, the conversation shifted to a different topic.
"So, how do you like Uncle Hung? Is he nice to you at work?"
To be honest, I didn't have much of an opinion on him. He was kind of like Dad, in the way that he was always smiling, laughing, and never took things seriously. Even when his Wife called him at work and started yelling at him, he was still laughing. It was quite impressive, honestly.
It wouldn't be right to say I hated him—because I didn't—but I wouldn't say I loved him either. He was just… there. Not that that was a bad thing or anything.
Of course, I couldn't tell Dad any of this. So, I opted for the most basic answer I could think of.
"He's a chill guy. Kind of like you—but funnier. And more handsome."
Dad gave me an unamused, offended frown. "Excuse me? I am way better than him in every way. That's not even a funny joke."
That was what he said, but the corners of his lips stayed curled the whole time, like he was fighting back a laugh.
"Speaking of…" Dad added, his voice trailing a little. "Are you… coming to Grandma's birthday party next week? It's happening at Auntie Yuan's place."
I wasn't surprised that he asked me this. It was bound to come up eventually, considering even Uncle Hung asked me yesterday.
As a kid, I was forced to attend these family gatherings every time they happened. But now that I was older, I had the choice to stay home—which was what I did almost every time.
In fact, I'd done it so often that my parents automatically assumed that was what I'd be doing and stopped asking most of the time.
So—Dad asking now meant it wasn't really a question. I'd have said no in these situations before, but even I knew the repercussions that would come with this specific invitation. And while I didn't care, I knew my Mom did. And though Dad wouldn't show it—I knew he did too.
I let out a quiet breath and answered in a voice as detached as always.
"Sure, I'll come."
"Really?" Dad asked, losing his grip on the steering wheel for a moment. "You'll actually come? If you don't want to, it's fine."
Of course he'd say that. He didn't want to make me feel forced—I knew that for a fact. He'd feel guilty if I only went to appease him. But the moment he asked—no, the moment I even heard about it in the first place—it was already too late.
"Don't get used to it," I shot back jokingly. "I won't be coming for the next one. Consider it… charity."
He raised an eyebrow. "What is that supposed to mean? Charity? I don't need your charity."
"I don't know about that."
The two of us began to bicker about this charity talk for the remainder of the ride, moving on from the whole family talk.
While I was pretty disappointed about missing my chance to relax while Dad drove me to work, having small talk like this with him wasn't so bad every once in a while...
I guess.