The doctor explained that Sophie's mother, Anna, needed emergency surgery. The family had no insurance and almost no money. Without the operation, she might not survive the night.

Elias didn't ask for details.

He simply asked how much it would cost.

When the doctor told him, Elias reached into his pocket.

He had enough.

But it was everything.

Every dollar he had saved.

Every emergency fund he had built.

Everything he owned.

He placed his bank card on the counter.

"Start the surgery."

The doctor stared at him.

"Sir, you understand what you're doing?"

Elias looked through the glass at Sophie.

"Yes."

The doctor hesitated.

"This will leave you with almost nothing."

Elias looked back at him.

"I've lived with nothing before."

The surgery began.

Elias stayed beside Sophie through the entire night.

She eventually fell asleep with her head against his arm.

He sat completely still because he was afraid that if he moved, she would wake up and realize how scared she really was.

Hours passed.

Then the doctor came out.

His expression wasn't good.

Elias stood immediately.

"What happened?"

"The procedure isn't working."

Elias's heart sank.

"We need to try again."

"How much?"

The doctor gave him the number.

Elias looked down.

He had nothing left.

For the first time in years, he felt completely helpless.

Then he remembered the garage.

There was one thing left.

His old motorcycle.

The motorcycle he had bought back years after Lily died.

He had found it by accident in a small town outside the city. The man who owned it had no idea what it meant to Elias. He had sold it back to him for far more than it was worth.

Elias had kept it hidden in his garage ever since.

He never rode it.

He couldn't.

It was the last thing Lily had ever loved that still belonged to him.

He left the hospital.

He opened his garage.

The motorcycle was covered in dust.

He slowly wiped the dust away.

For a moment, he could almost hear Lily laughing behind him.

"You're still keeping this?"

He smiled through tears.

"Yeah."

He ran his hand over the old fuel tank.

Then he whispered,

"I'm sorry."

He sold it that morning.