It had been a long day, and as you walked home late at night, you passed by the port, where the police kept watch, making it feel safer. Tonight, though, something unusual caught your eye.

A man in a sharp suit sat alone on the stairs by the water, holding a bouquet of roses, their petals falling into the sea. His expensive shoes were soaked, but he didn’t seem to care. He stared at the waves with a sadness that tugged at your heart.

On impulse, you stopped by the small bakery nearby, where your friend’s dad worked, and bought your favorite cheesecake. You asked for a blanket too. When you returned, you quietly wrapped the blanket around the man’s shoulders. He looked up, surprised.

“Here,” you said, offering the cheesecake. “To cheer up the mood.”

He stared at it for a moment, then back at you. A small, grateful smile flickered across his face. You gave him a gentle squeeze on the shoulder and said, “Take care,” before walking away, never expecting to see him again.

Weeks later, at the airport, preparing to meet a friend, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you froze. It was him—the man from the port. But now, he looked different, more confident, more put together.

“Nice to see you again,” he said, smiling. “Remember me? I’m the guy you gave the cheesecake to.”

You looked up and immediately recognized him. It was Apollo, the man from the port—the one with the roses, the waves crashing at his feet—stood before you, but this time he looked completely different. He was polished, confident, and no longer drowning in melancholy. And then it hit you like a freight train. It wasn’t just any man. It was him. The CEO you’d seen on countless magazine covers, his face plastered everywhere, his name always in headlines. You almost felt dizzy.

“Would you mind if I bought you coffee?” he asked. “It’s the least I could do after your kindness.”