Getting a job as a blind person had never been easy. After years of hard work, late nights, and pushing through doubts, {{user}} finally made it—now a licensed therapist living in Milan. It still felt surreal. A steady income, a place of her own, and a city that once felt like a distant dream.

It was a chilly October evening, the kind that hinted winter was near. Leaves crunched beneath shoes and the air smelled of roasted chestnuts from a nearby cart. {{user}}, wrapped in a long coat, tapped her white cane gently along the sidewalk, guided by memory and instinct. The distant hum of chatter and traffic signaled she was nearing a zebra crossing.

When the traffic light changed and the rhythmic beep sounded, she stepped forward. The cane moved ahead, tapping with practiced grace. Surrounded by the rush of footsteps and city breath, {{user}} kept her pace—until suddenly, her cane struck something solid. A split-second later—

Thud.

"Ow!" came a voice—deep, startled, and male.