The kettle whistled in the kitchen. Maria poured the hot water into a mug already prepared with shredded ginger, lemon skins, and a generous spoonful of honey.

  Jack sat hunched at the table, one hand gripping the edge, the other pressing against his temple. The dizziness hadn’t quite passed. He took a deep breath, willing the room to stop spinning.

  "Here’s some tea," his mother said gently, setting a steaming mug in front of him. She ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back like she had when he was little. "I added lots of honey. It should help settle your stomach and give you some strength."

  "Thanks, Mom," Jack murmured. He took the mug in both hands and let the steam wash over his face. The smell was sharp and sweet. He took a cautious sip. The heat and honey soothed his throat, and the ginger brought a pleasant burn to his chest. Slowly, he felt a bit more like himself.

  He looked up and caught his father staring. Despite the sunken hollows under his eyes, José looked at him with the kind of worry that pushed aside his own pain.

  "My friends warned me not to stay in dives too long," Jack said, offering a faint smile. "Turns out they weren’t wrong."

  "They weren’t," José replied, his voice hoarse, followed by a cough.

  Maria gave a quiet nod. "I tried to tell you before you went in. You should take better care of your health from now on, Jack."

  Jack nodded. "Yeah. I will."

  A brief silence followed, broken only by the ticking clock on the wall. 5:30 AM. The sky outside had just begun to soften with light.

  "So," Jack said, glancing between them. "How have you guys been? Feels like forever since we’ve seen each other."

  "We’ve been okay," Maria said with a small, tired smile. "Your father’s been coughing more."

  "Come on, Maria. I’m still going strong," José said, lifting his chin. "What about you, son? How’s your work coming along?"

  There was something in the way José asked that made Jack pause. His father’s tone was hopeful.

  Is now the right time? Yeah. The sooner they know, the sooner they can stop worrying.

  "Actually, I do have some news," he said, taking another sip of tea.

  "What is it?" Maria asked, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

  Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He opened his banking app with a few taps.

  A second later—Bling!—José’s phone chimed.

  "Go see what it is," Jack said.

  José frowned and pulled his phone from his pocket. He stared at the screen, blinking. He tilted it slightly, as if the angle might change what he was seeing. Then he read it again, slower this time.

  Maria stood and moved closer, concern etched on her face.

  José’s voice was quiet. “Look, Maria... It’s from Jack. He sent… This is the money. Enough for everything.”

  “It can’t be,” she said, stunned.

  “You can relax, Dad. You're going to be okay,” Jack said, his chest swelling. It felt incredibly good to say it aloud.

  Maria looked at the phone, her mouth trembling. She reached out and touched José’s arm. “José...” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Tears welled in her eyes.

  José’s voice cracked. “I can’t believe it… I’d begun to lose hope...” He turned toward Jack. “Obrigado (Thank you),” he whispered. Then again, louder: “Obrigado. Obrigado.”

  Before Jack realized he was doing it, the words came out in Portuguese too. “Está tudo bem, Pai. Vais ficar bem. (It’s all right, Dad. You’re going to be okay.)”

  José pulled him into a tight hug.

  “Easy, easy,” Jack winced. “You’re going to crack my ribs!”

  José chuckled through a sob, finally letting go. “I’ll call the clinic right away. Now that we have the money, it should be possible to book something for this week.”

  “José! It’s 5:30, and a Saturday. They’re not even open yet,” Maria said, wiping her eyes. “Do they even open on Saturdays?”

  “Then I’ll write them an email. After that, I’ll drive there and wait at the door for them to open.”

  Maria looked around the room, uncertain what to do with herself. Then her expression brightened. “Today we celebrate,” she declared. “I’m going to make all of your favorites, Jack.”

  “Okay,” Jack replied, smiling despite his exhaustion. He stretched and yawned. “Well, as for me... I’m going to bed, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not before you eat something,” Maria said, already moving toward the kitchen counter. “Just a little bread. You need something in your stomach.”

  “And... maybe a shower before you sleep, son?” José added gently.

  Now that his dad had mentioned it, he realized just how bad he stank. One week sealed inside the capsule without a shower had taken its toll. He was surprised his parents hadn’t said something sooner.

  Maria returned with a small plate. On it was a piece of bread, cut in half and smeared with butter. Jack bit into it. Never had bread and butter tasted so good as in this moment.

  Stolen story; please report.

  After chatting a little longer with his parents, Jack went up, had a shower, and collapsed in bed. He’d done it. His father would be okay.

  *

  Jack woke up. His head still felt groggy. Better than when he first came out of the dive, but the heaviness still clung to him. Voices drifted up from downstairs, and they weren’t just his parents’.

  He sat up and slowly made his way toward the stairs, pausing as the voices became clearer.

  “It’s so nice that you brought her, Rob.”

  “Thank you for having me, Mrs. Sousa.”

  “Oh, please, just call me Maria, dear. It’s just like your name, but in Portuguese.”

  “I see. Very good, Maria.”

  “Thank you for letting Marie stay here with you, Aunty.”

  “Of course, Rob. And well done for doing things right, you two. Are you also from a traditional family, Marie?”

  “Yes. You could say that.”

  Jack descended the rest of the way and stepped into the kitchen. Rob and Marie were sitting at the table while his mother cooked, the air filled with the soft clatter of pans and the smell of hot oil.

  “Hey, look who’s awake!” Rob said, crossing the room and pulling Jack into a quick hug.

  “Rob! And Marie too,” Jack said, blinking.

  His brain briefly short-circuited. Seeing Marie in his house, in real life, was surreal—an impossible overlap of both his worlds in his own kitchen.

  “Hey, Jack,” Marie said, grinning. “Dive hangover?”

  “Is that what it’s called?” Jack asked. “I’d felt it a little with the helmet, but...”

  “It’s terrible, isn’t it?” she asked, amused.

  “Yeah,” Jack admitted, rubbing his temples.

  “Now you see why Amari keeps nagging you to take breaks?” she said in a mock-motherly tone.

  “Jack, your friend Marie is going to spend the night here with us. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “Yeah. Of course,” he said, still a little dazed. “Wait—where’s Dad?”

  “He’s fired up the grill outside,” his mother said.

  “Grilling? But it must be freezing outside.”

  “When has that ever stopped your father?” she replied with a shrug. “Also, good news: your dad already talked to the doctors at the clinic. They’re open Saturday mornings, and he was waiting outside before they even got there. Somehow, he managed to convince them to slot him in first thing Monday.”

  “That fast?”

  “I think I’ll need your help to pick him up, okay? Maybe yours, too, Beto. I’m not sure how dizzy or weak he’ll be after a full day of nano-chemo.”

  “Beto?” Marie asked, turning to Rob.

  “Short for Roberto,” Rob explained.

  “Aww. I didn’t know you had a Portuguese pet name! That’s adorable,” Marie said, leaning her head against him.

  From outside, José’s voice called in: “Honey! Grill’s hot—I need the meat now!”

  Moments later, he rushed into the kitchen, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, looking like a man ten years younger. Just knowing he was about to begin treatment had breathed new life into him.

  Catching sight of Jack, his face brightened even more. “Son, you’re awake! Come, I need help at the grill.”

  “But you never let me near the grill,” Jack said, confused.

  “Nonsense, nonsense!” José waved it off. “Marie here just told me you’re a great cook in the game. Why you didn’t tell us?”

  He turned to Marie, who shrugged innocently.

  “Well, to be fair, José,” she said, “your son’s specialty in the game is bug burgers.”

  “Bug burgers?” José wrinkled his nose. “That sounds disgusting.”

  “And yet he somehow makes it taste good,” Marie teased. “Imagine what he could do with actual meat.”

  José chuckled. “I see. That only shows he has to man the grill today. Come on, come on.”

  Jack barely had time to protest before his dad was dragging him toward the door. As he stepped outside, the cold slapped him in the face, pulling a gasp from his lungs.

  “Oh, right. No jacket,” José muttered. “Wait here!”

  He hurried back inside and returned moments later with a scarf and a jacket.

  “Here. But if you stay near the grill, you won’t feel a thing.” He coughed, clearing his throat as he turned back to the task. Soon, he was setting strips of meat from the tray onto the hot surface.

  The grill hissed and sizzled as the spices Maria had seasoned the meat with met the heat, releasing a wave of garlic and pepper into the crisp air. José hummed, visibly content as he worked.

  “You look really happy,” Jack said, watching him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? I was a dead man walking. And now? I get to live again. I’m going to have lunch with my son and my nephew. And my nephew brought a wonderful girl to introduce to us. Today is a beautiful day.”

  Jack smiled, the sight of his father so full of life making his throat tighten unexpectedly.

  “So, Dad… how was your week?”

  “Well,” José said, as he kept adding meat, “last Monday I went to the bank to secure that 150K loan. But now that you’ve come through with the full amount, I can’t wait to go back and tell them I don’t need their stinking money. I can’t believe they didn’t give me the money I needed after all these years with them.”

  “Sweet vindication,” Jack said, laughing. “And what about the game? I realized we haven’t really talked much about your experience in there.”

  “I’ve been playing every night,” José said. “There were two days this week when I didn’t feel too good, and your mother told me to stay home.”

  Jack blinked. “Wait—you didn’t go to work?”

  “It was very cold. Your mother was worried it would make my cough worse.”

  Jack gulped. For Dad to skip work, he must have felt awful.

  “So on those two days, I played a bit during the day too,” José continued. “And it’s been fun. Here—have the spatula. The grill is yours now. Wait until the meat chars. And listen to the sound. It’s all in the sizzling. Anyone who grills while listening to music doesn’t know what they’re doing. You have to listen for the right moment.”

  After a beat, he pointed. “Now!”

  Jack obeyed. The meat hissed as he turned it.

  “Marie is right. You can cook. So, as I was saying, this game is fun,” he continued, “I can see now why you like it and how much you can learn in it.”

  Jack blinked, surprised. His dad had done a full 180 on his opinion of the game. “And what about your farming?”

  “It’s going well. I just finished a quest.”

  “Oh yeah? What kind of quest?”

  “It was a quest to learn a special skill,” José said, flipping a piece of meat and adjusting its position on the grill.

  “A special skill? That sounds like a big deal. What was the rarity of the quest?”

  “Rarity?”

  “Yeah. When you got the quest, what did it say at the top? Did it say ‘Common’? ‘Uncommon’?”

  José frowned, thinking hard. “No… none of those.”

  “Rare? Epic?”

  “Oh yes! That’s it—rare. That was the word.”

  Jack nodded. “Wow. Rare quests are a big deal in New Earth. So, what kind of skill did you get?”

  “It lets me heal soil,” José said simply, handing Jack the spatula again. “Flip that one.”

  “Heal soil? What does that mean?”

  “Well, some soil is too poor for plants to grow in,” his father explained. “For example, if the ground is too rocky, plants can’t grow properly. That’s why, in Portugal, your great-grandfather dug up all the rocks in his field. And with those rocks, he built the wall you saw on the mountainside, separating his property from the neighbor’s. Remember it?”

  “Yeah,” Jack said, squinting. “Rings a bell.”

  “Or, another example is the sandy soil in a desert,” José continued.

  “That’s perfect for us!

  José nodded. “Of course. The only reason I got this quest was that I kept asking everyone I met how I could farm in the desert. The lady who first taught me about farming was reluctant to tell me much, but I kept insisting. Eventually, she gave in and handed me this quest. And voilà—now, with a bit of effort, I can make a patch of poor land bear fruit again. Pretty nice, huh?”

  José paused, then smiled quietly to himself. “Just like me. This old body was barren too… and now it’s getting a second chance. There we go—these are ready,” he added, stepping back from the grill. “Now set them on the tray. We’ll keep the grill burning low in case anyone’s still hungry later.”

  Jack looked at the pile of steaks, burgers, and hot dogs. Even if twenty people had shown up, they wouldn’t have been able to eat it all. His father had gone all out.

  “Enough talking shop,” José said, throwing a heavy arm around Jack’s shoulders. “Let’s just enjoy today, son. Being alive, eating with family and friends—that’s a gift. One we don’t always appreciate until it’s nearly taken from us.”

  His voice caught slightly at the end.

  They started walking back toward the house.

  Just as they were about to enter, his father gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “And… once again, thank you. I love you, son.”

  Jack clasped his father’s hand. “Love you too, Dad.”