“If you’re late on rent again,” he said, “call.”
No promise of miracles.
No grand speech.
Just an option.
Noah walked up quietly and tugged at the biker’s vest.
“Are you a superhero?”
A flicker of something passed across the biker’s face.
“No,” he said. “Just paid for some stuff.”
Noah smiled anyway.
The neighbors who had whispered earlier now avoided eye contact.
One woman stepped forward awkwardly. “We… we didn’t know.”
The biker didn’t correct her.
He didn’t say you didn’t ask.
He simply put on his helmet.
Amanda stood in her doorway now — furniture back in place behind her — holding her wedding ring tightly in her palm.
“Thank you,” she said.
He paused, already seated on his bike.
