The night was unusually quiet. Sue City's skyline looked peaceful, but inside Jackim's penthouse, the silence felt heavy. He had been up for hours, eyes fixed on his laptop but mind far away. The glow of the screen reflected on his tired face — unread emails, contract drafts, system notifications, but nothing could hold his attention.
He leaned back in his chair, scrolling aimlessly through old photos on his phone. One picture made him stop — Lina, smiling beside him at the old campus café, the one they used to visit before success, fame, and chaos came between them. She looked so real in that photo — no makeup, no filters, just her laughter frozen in time.
He smiled faintly, whispering, "You were peace before I knew what peace meant."
Then, his phone buzzed again.
Lina.
He frowned. It was past midnight. He hesitated for a second before answering.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end wasn't her usual cheerful tone. It was shaky, cracked with panic.
"Jackim… it's Mom. She—she collapsed. They've taken her to CityCare Hospital. They said she's in critical condition. I don't know what to do."
He was already standing. "I'm on my way."
He didn't even change. No security, no flashy car — just grabbed his hoodie, slipped into sandals, and ran out. The elevator ride felt like forever. The night guard at the lobby tried to greet him, but Jackim just waved and sprinted to the parking lot.
The roads were nearly empty. The city lights blurred past as his car tore through the silent streets. His chest felt tight, not just from worry, but from something deeper — guilt.
He hadn't spoken to Lina properly in weeks. Fame had stolen time from them, stolen moments he thought he'd always have.
When he finally arrived at the hospital, he didn't bother with parking. He stopped right at the entrance, doors flung open. Nurses turned as he rushed in.
"Patient—Lina's mother—where is she?"
The receptionist looked startled but recognized him. "Room 205, second floor."
He didn't wait for directions. His sandals slapped against the clean tiles as he ran up the stairs.
He found Lina sitting outside the ward, her head buried in her hands, shoulders shaking. She looked up when she heard his footsteps — eyes red, hair messy, face pale.
"You came…" she whispered.
He didn't answer. He just knelt beside her, holding her trembling hands. "How is she?"
"They said it's her heart," Lina said through tears. "She was fine this morning. We were laughing. Then she just collapsed. I called the ambulance, but—" her voice broke.
Jackim pulled her close, letting her cry into his chest. "She's going to be okay. She's strong. You know that."
Lina nodded weakly, but her tears didn't stop.
Minutes passed in silence until the doctor came out. "Family of Mrs. Amollo?"
Lina jumped up. "That's me. I'm her daughter."
The doctor removed his mask, looking tired but calm. "She's stable now. We've managed to control the arrhythmia. She needs rest, medication, and someone to stay with her tonight."
Lina exhaled sharply, almost collapsing in relief. Jackim caught her before she fell.
The doctor smiled faintly. "She's lucky you brought her in so quickly."
Lina whispered, "It wasn't me. He did."
The doctor looked at Jackim and raised an eyebrow. "Ah, the famous Mr. Ochieng. My daughter's a fan. She watches your live shows."
Jackim chuckled softly. "Tell her I said thank you — and that she should finish her homework before my next stream."
The doctor laughed, shaking his head. "You really are how you appear on TV — humble." Then he left them with a gentle pat on the shoulder.
Inside the ward, Lina's mother lay peacefully, tubes connected, her breathing steady. She looked fragile but at peace. Jackim stood at the foot of the bed, his heart twisting. He remembered how she used to call him "that polite boy who eats too fast."
Lina wiped her face. "She always liked you, you know. Even when we weren't talking, she'd ask, 'Have you called that young man lately?'"
Jackim smiled faintly. "She saved me dinner once, remember? Ugali and tilapia. I think I ate half the pot."
Lina laughed through tears. "You almost burned your tongue."
The laughter turned into silence again, soft but warm.
She looked at him seriously. "Jackim… why did you come? You could've sent someone, called your assistant—"
He cut her off gently. "Because when something happens to someone who once gave you peace, you don't delegate love."
Her lips trembled. "You never changed."
He smiled. "Neither did you."
Hours passed. The nurses dimmed the lights, and the ward grew quiet. Jackim sat beside Lina, watching her mother sleep.
Lina leaned her head on his shoulder, whispering, "Do you ever get tired?"
"All the time," he said softly. "But I don't stop. You know why?"
"Why?"
"Because every time I close my eyes, I see where I came from — and I remember the promise I made to my mom: never let success change who I am."
She looked up at him, eyes shining. "You kept that promise."
He chuckled. "Barely. Some days I lose it. Then something like tonight happens — and it reminds me what really matters."
They both went quiet again. The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor filled the air.
At some point, Lina fell asleep on his shoulder. Jackim didn't move. He just watched her sleep, her face soft and peaceful, the kind of peace he'd been chasing for years.
The System pinged silently in his mind:
System notification: "True Love Gauge — 95% synced with Lina."
He smiled to himself. "You're late, System," he whispered.
The System responded faintly: Love detected. Data cannot be quantified.
Jackim chuckled softly. "For once, you're right."
By morning, sunlight spilled into the room. Lina woke up, blinking at the golden light touching her mother's face.
"She looks better," she said, smiling weakly.
Jackim nodded. "Told you she's strong."
Lina looked at him for a long time before saying quietly, "Thank you, Jackim. For coming. For being here."
He stood, stretching. "Don't thank me. Just promise me something."
"What?"
"Don't ever cry alone again. Even if I'm a million miles away, call me."
She nodded slowly, eyes glassy again. "I will."
As he turned to leave, her voice stopped him. "Jackim?"
He turned.
"I saw the video — Marcus's confession. You forgave him."
Jackim smiled faintly. "Yeah. Mercy costs, but hate bankrupts."
She smiled. "You've grown."
He laughed. "You're the one who said I'd never mature."
"Well," she teased, "I didn't say you did completely."
They both laughed — real laughter this time, the kind that felt like healing.
Outside the hospital, reporters and fans had gathered already. Somehow, word had spread. They held cameras, phones, and signs that read "Our Humble Billionaire" and "Jackim The Real One."
He sighed, pulling his hoodie over his head. Kelvin had already arrived, waving from the car.
"Boss, you made the news again," Kelvin said, half-laughing, half-annoyed. "Apparently, the whole internet's calling you 'Mr. Soft Heart.'"
Jackim groaned. "Fantastic. Just what I needed — a new nickname that makes me sound like a teddy bear."
Kelvin chuckled. "At least it's better than 'The Silent Billionaire.'"
"Barely."
They both laughed as they drove off.
The System pinged softly again:
System reward: Public Affection +100%, Emotional Stability +50%, Relationship Strengthened (Lina).
Jackim ignored the stats and looked out the window instead. The city was waking up — kids walking to school, vendors setting up, life moving like nothing had changed.
He smiled quietly. For once, the noise of fame didn't matter. The system didn't matter. All that mattered was that someone he cared about was okay.
Later that evening, social media exploded with a video a nurse had posted — a short clip of Jackim carrying Lina's mom's medical chart, walking through the hospital barefoot after his sandals broke.
The caption read:
"He may have billions, but his heart walks humbly."
Within hours, it had over fifty million views. The comments were full of crying emojis, love notes, and prayers.
Even Ariana commented: "I hate that you still care too much. But that's what makes you… you."
Jackim saw it, smiled, and put his phone away. He stepped out onto his balcony, feeling the soft evening wind on his face.
For the first time in months, he felt peace — the kind of peace that doesn't come from money, success, or fame, but from doing the right thing when no one's watching.
He whispered to himself, "You can brag all you want, but the real flex is kindness."
And as the sun dipped behind the skyscrapers, painting the city in gold, the world — for just one quiet moment felt right again.