THE ARRANGEMENT 

It was dinner time and the whole family except for the father were in the dining table having their dinner, 

"I hope all still remember that next week we are going to the village to see grandma,so please make sure u all gets prepare as early as possible and in case u need to buy anything give me the budget"said the mother as she looked at her two sons,  "mom not again,we just went there last year, and I still haven't forgotten how that place sucks"conplained Ethan , "Ethan u better have so manners,how dare u say your grandmother' place suck"said the mother angrily. Ben the older brother interrupted"sorry mom about that, Ethan u better mind your words next time ok" Ethan stood up and went fo his room angrily, 

"Gosh I hate that place "he said as he throw himself on his Bed, his phone started ringing and it was his girlfriend called Cotilda, he pick up the phone

Cotilda:Hellow baby

Ethan :Hi 

Cotilda:Aaah I miss u soooo much baby ,it has been three days now 

Ethan:Yeah, and I'm in a very bad mood ,call me later

Cotilda:Hey,what's wrong?

Ethan:I said call me later, Is that so hard  to understand?

Cotilda:but I'm your girlfriend Ethan ,please tellme what's wrong

Ethan:Gudnyt

Ethan hanged up the phone and threw it on the table, "some girls are so stubborn, she is not even my type, I never loved her"he said while closing his eyes.

Scene: Arrival at the Village

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dusty village road as the sleek, black SUV rolled into view. Its polished surface gleamed, reflecting the curious eyes of villagers who paused their chores to watch the unfamiliar, luxurious car approach. Children stopped mid-play, their laughter fading into whispers of excitement, while elders squinted from their porches, murmuring amongst themselves.

As the car slowed to a stop in front of the old family house, its shiny rims kicking up a small cloud of dust, Ethan's mother, Grace, stepped out first. She adjusted her designer sunglasses and stretched, smiling warmly at the gathering crowd. Ben followed, his face lighting up as he spotted familiar faces. Their father, Mr. Carter, gave a polite nod to the villagers before opening the back door.

But Ethan? He sat there, arms crossed, his jaw clenched tight. The tension in his shoulders was obvious, and his piercing gaze remained fixed on the cracked screen of his phone, though he wasn’t really looking at anything. The joyful noise outside grated on his nerves.

“Ethan, we’re here,” Grace said softly, peeking into the car.

Without a word, Ethan shoved the door open and stepped out, his expensive sneakers landing awkwardly on the uneven, dusty ground. He didn’t glance at the villagers, didn’t acknowledge the kids waving excitedly, and most of all, he didn’t spare a glance at the frail, elderly woman standing by the doorway—their grandmother, her eyes shining with tears of happiness.

“My boy!” she called out, her voice trembling with joy. But Ethan brushed past her like she was invisible, his face a mask of irritation.

He stomped into the house, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floorboards. A door slammed a moment later, sending a ripple of silence through the cheerful crowd.

The grandmother’s smile faltered, her eyes darting to Grace, confusion and hurt clouding her expression.

Grace quickly moved to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Mama, don’t mind him,” she said with a sigh, forcing a light chuckle. “He’s always like that.”

The grandmother nodded slowly, though the worry didn’t leave her eyes. The villagers, sensing the tension, began to disperse, their whispers lingering in the air like dust after the SUV’s arrival.

Inside his room, Ethan threw himself onto the bed, staring at the cracked ceiling. The sounds of laughter and reunion outside felt like an echo from another world—one he wanted nothing to do with.

Scene: The First Encounter

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the small, quiet neighborhood. Lily balanced a basket of warm food in her hands as she approached the old, ivy-covered house at the end of the lane. Her mother had insisted she deliver dinner to Mrs. Donovan, Ethan’s grandmother, who lived alone since her health had begun to decline.

Lily knocked gently on the door, waiting for the familiar creak of hinges. When no one answered, she tried the handle—it gave way easily.

“Mrs. Donovan?” Lily called softly as she stepped inside. The house smelled of lavender and old books, a comforting scent she remembered from past visits. But today, it felt different. Quieter.

As she moved towards the kitchen, her shoulder suddenly collided with something solid—someone solid. The basket in her hands wobbled, nearly toppling, but she managed to steady it.

“Watch where you’re going!” a sharp voice snapped.

Lily looked up, startled. Before her stood a young man, his piercing gray eyes narrowed in annoyance. His dark hair was tousled, and there was an edge to his posture that made her bristle.

“You bumped into me,” she retorted, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe you should watch where you’re going.”

Ethan scoffed, stepping closer. “Do you always barge into people’s homes and start mouthing off?”

Lily’s eyes flashed with defiance. “I’m here to bring food for your grandmother. Maybe try being a little less of a jerk.”

That was the moment Ethan’s patience snapped. Without warning, he grabbed her wrist, twisting it just enough to make her gasp. His grip was firm, his expression cold.

“Apologize,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Lily’s heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to let fear show on her face. She clenched her jaw, staring him down. “Let. Me. Go.”

For a tense moment, neither of them moved, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. Then, as if realizing his own aggression, Ethan’s grip loosened. He released her hand abruptly, as though burned.

“Whatever,” he muttered, stepping back. “Just stay out of my way.”

Lily rubbed her wrist, her glare never wavering. “Gladly.”

She turned on her heel, marching towards the kitchen, leaving Ethan standing there, his heart unexpectedly racing—not from anger, but from something he couldn’t quite name.

Lily gently places the hotpot on Mrs. Donovan’s worn-out table, the rich aroma of freshly cooked food filling the small room. Mrs. Donovan, a frail old woman with kind eyes, thanks her warmly, but Lily can’t shake off the tension from earlier.