It was a sunny afternoon, the kind of day that felt too bright for Ethan's liking. He was crouched beside an old black sedan, sleeves rolled up, grease smudged across his forearm as he worked on the car's stubborn engine. The streets were alive with the chatter of passersby and the faint scent of flowers drifting from the nearby shop.

Just as he wiped his hands on a rag, focused on tightening a loose bolt, he felt someone stumble into him.

“Oh!” came a soft, startled voice—a girl’s voice. He turned his head sharply, his brown eyes locking onto her. She was holding a small white cane in one hand, her other hand stretched out as if trying to find her balance.

“I’m so sorry!” she said quickly, her tone apologetic but tinged with an almost disarming warmth. Her gaze didn’t meet his, and it took him a moment to realize why. Her eyes, though strikingly pretty, were unfocused.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, his voice low but steady. He stood up, brushing off his hands. “Are you alright?”