Your Wealth Is Mine

Chapter Five - A Familiar Face

Mark walked without direction, letting the city decide where his feet would take him.

Cars passed him in a steady stream, their tires hissing against wet asphalt, people sealed away in warm interiors, insulated from the world. Mark remained outside it all, hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched, his thoughts drifting between disbelief and cautious wonder.

A hundred million.

The number still did not feel real.

Every few minutes, his fingers brushed against his phone, an unconscious habit, as if the balance might vanish if he did not keep checking. It did not. The digits stayed firm and unmoving, quietly reshaping the rules of his existence.

Yet despite it all, despite the system, the wealth, the strange calm settling into his bones, he felt oddly hollow.

He crossed a familiar street and slowed without realizing it.

Across the road, standing beneath the awning of a closed bookstore, was Susan.

She was holding a paper cup with both hands, shoulders tucked in against the cold, her dark hair pulled back loosely, strands escaping to frame her face. She laughed at something on her phone, a soft sound carried faintly by the air, and for a moment Mark simply stood there, watching.

Susan.

Ella’s younger sister.

The coincidence felt too sharp to be accidental, but the system did not stir, no window appearing, no robotic voice intruding on the moment. It was just her, real and unguarded, existing outside the orbit of his chaos.

Before he could talk himself out of it, she looked up and their eyes met.

Her surprise flickered quickly into recognition, then warmth. She smiled, wide and genuine, and lifted one hand in a small wave.

“Mark?” she called.

He crossed the street, suddenly aware of how he looked, his clothes still damp at the hems, his hair slightly disheveled. He had not planned for this encounter, he had not prepared any version of himself to present to her

“Susan,” he said, stopping a few steps away. “I did not expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same,” she replied, tilting her head. “What are the odds?”

She glanced at him properly then, her eyes narrowing just a little, concern slipping through the cracks of her smile. “Are you alright? You look… tired.”

“I am fine,” he said automatically, then paused. “Just a long day.”

She studied him for another second, then nodded, accepting the answer without pressing. Susan had always been like that. She listened, but she did not interrogate.

Completely different from her sister, Ella.

“I was grabbing coffee before heading home,” she said, lifting the cup slightly. “Do you want one? There is a place still open down the street.”

Mark hesitated.

There was no reason to refuse. No reason to accept either. And yet, something in the way she asked, casual and sincere, tugged at him.

“I can join you,” he said.

Her smile brightened. “Good.”

They walked side by side, the space between them comfortable rather than awkward. 

The café was small and warm, tucked between a laundromat and a convenience store, the windows fogged over from the inside. They took a seat near the back, away from the counter, the hum of low conversation forming a gentle backdrop.

Susan talked easily, filling the silence with stories about her classes, a professor who talked too much, a group project gone wrong. Mark listened more than he spoke, nodding at the right moments, occasionally offering a comment that made her laugh.

He noticed things he had not before. The way she gestured with her hands when she got excited. The way her expressions shifted quickly, animated and honest. There was no calculation in her, no sharp edges.

At some point, she leaned back in her chair and looked at him thoughtfully.

“You seem different,” she said.

Mark stiffened slightly. “Different how?”

“I do not know,” she replied. “Quieter, maybe. But also… steadier. Like you are carrying something heavy, but it is not crushing you.”

He looked down at his coffee, watching the faint ripples on the surface.

“That is an interesting way to put it,” he said.

She smiled. “I tend to notice things.”

The conversation drifted, touching lightly on memories. Family dinners they both had attended separately. Old jokes. Moments from the past that had once felt insignificant but now carried a strange weight. Mark was careful not to mention Ella. And Susan did not bring her up either. The absence of her name hung between them like a fragile agreement.

When they left the café, the night had grown cooler. The streets were quieter now, the earlier rush replaced by long stretches of stillness.

They walked again, slower this time.

“You know,” Susan said after a while, “Ella always said you were reliable. Even when she complained, she never said you were unkind.”

Mark said nothing.

“She can be… intense,” Susan continued, choosing her words carefully. “She wants certainty. Big gestures. Proof of love.”

“I know,” Mark said softly.

“But don't mind her though. She has always been that way.” she said with a softer voice now. “I would say annoying to some degree but . . . She is who she is and she likes what she likes.”

Mark didn't say anything, he simply kept his head down, his thoughts swirling around his head.

Susan glanced at him. “Do you ever feel like people forget that trying counts too?”

He looked at her then, really looked at her, and something in his chest tightened.

“Yes,” he said. “All the time.”

They stopped near a small park, the streetlamps casting pale circles of light over damp grass and empty benches. Susan turned to face him fully, hands tucked into the sleeves of her jacket.

“I am glad I ran into you,” she said. “You always make things feel… calmer.”

Mark did not trust his voice for a moment. He swallowed, then nodded.

“I am glad too.”

A breeze passed through the trees, rustling leaves overhead. The world felt suspended, balanced on the edge of something unspoken.

Susan shifted her weight, hesitating, then smiled again, softer this time.

“You are a nice guy, Mark,” she said. “A really nice one. Too bad you are not mine.”