The apartment felt smaller than usual. The walls seemed to close in with every unanswered text from Mrs. Harriet, every memory of Darren’s strained voice, every ache in his muscles that refused to fully fade.

He grabbed his keys and headed for the door.

Liam needed some fresh air, that was all he needed, he couldn’t exactly pay Rachel a visit right away, he needed to play it cool or this could turn into something serious a little too soon which he didn’t need.

A little sun on his face, maybe drive around for a bit, clear his head.

The parking lot behind his building was half-empty. Midday on a weekday meant most residents were at work. His car sat in its usual spot—a sleek Lexus RX, four years old but well-maintained. Liam had bought it used right after making senior associate. It was the first nice thing he had ever owned.

He slid into the driver’s seat, turned the key. He tried to start his car but there was nothing.

"Come on, not today..." Liam muttered.

He tried again. The engine coughed once, weakly, then fell silent. The dashboard lights flickered and died.

CLICK. CLICK. CLICK

"Goddamn it!"

Liam slammed his palm against the steering wheel. The horn let out a short, pathetic beep. He didn’t need this today. Not today, not when he was already running on fumes and frustration.

He leaned his head back against the headrest and stared at the ceiling of the car.

Public transport was the alternative, the thought made him cringe. Not because he was above it—he had taken buses and trains for years before his career took off. But because it meant surrendering control.

Liam knew that this was going to be an inconvenience nonetheless.

"No, I will fix it," Liam said under his breath.

Liam popped the hood and stepped out of the car. The afternoon sun hit him immediately, warm but not uncomfortable. He walked around to the front and propped the hood open with the metal rod.

The engine stared back at him like a puzzle he didn’t have the tools to solve.

He wasn’t a mechanic, never claimed to be. But he was a problem-solver by trade, and right now, the problem was sitting in front of him with a dead battery or a broken alternator or—

Liam checked the coolant reservoir. Low, but not empty.

He checked the oil dipstick, that was fine.

He checked the battery terminals, no corrosion.

"What the hell is it then?" Liam thought to himself.

He crouched down, looking at the hoses, the belts, the mess of wires and metal that somehow turned gasoline into motion. His white t-shirt was already collecting sweat and his jeans were picking up dust from the parking lot asphalt.

Ten minutes passed, then fifteen.

Liam wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and kept searching.

Then he saw it.

The radiator cap was loose. Not by much—just a quarter turn. But enough to let air into the system. Enough to make the engine overheat and refuse to start.

He unscrewed the cap carefully and peered inside.

Low, really low.

"Water", Liam realized. "It just needs water."

He couldn’t believe it. Thirty minutes of crawling around his engine bay, getting dirt on his clothes and sweat on his brow, and the solution was tap water.

Liam laughed—a short, bitter sound.

He walked back to his apartment, grabbed a jug of water from the kitchen, and returned to the parking lot. He poured it into the radiator slowly, watching the level rise. Replaced the cap and tightened it properly this time.

Back in the driver’s seat, he turned the key.

The engine roared to life.

"Finally," Liam breathed.

But when he looked down at himself, he groaned.

His white t-shirt was gray with dirt and sweat stains. His jeans had dark patches at the knees where he had knelt on the asphalt. His hands were black with grime, streaks of it up his forearms. He probably smelled like a mechanic’s garage.

"Fucking hell," Liam muttered.

He killed the engine, grabbed his keys, and headed back inside.

The shower took fifteen minutes. Hot water, plenty of soap, scrubbing every inch of grit from his skin. He let the water run over his face and tried not to think about how something as simple as a loose radiator cap had cost him almost an hour of his day.

Another ten minutes to pick out clean clothes. Dark jeans, a black henley and fresh socks.

Liam stood in front of the mirror, running a hand through his damp blonde hair.

He looked better and more importantly, he looked clean.

But his phone was still sitting on the nightstand, and somewhere out there, Mrs. Harriet was probably calling again.

"One problem at a time", Liam told himself.

He grabbed his keys and headed for the door but he saw a woman standing right in front of it.

"Hi, i don’t know if this is the right address but is this Liam’s house?" Vanessa Cole greeted.

The outfit she wore didn’t expose her cleavage but the bust hung from the sweater, they looked big as hell but there was one thing Liam noticed.

"Huh? My system isn’t responding?" Liam thought to himself which meant there was no benefit in interacting with this woman.

"Is there anything I can help you with? I’m on my way out," Liam asked.

"I guess we will have to do this over lunch tomorrow. Here is my card, give me a call," Vanessa said, she wasn’t going to hang around.

Liam looked down at her card and noticed right away that she was working for his former place of work.

Vanessa was already walking away before Liam called out to her.

"Wait! I might have a few minutes, come in," Liam said and a hidden smile creased Vanessa’s face.

"Got you," She thought to herself.