The school track was packed.

  Leon stood with his team at the starting area, watching the bleachers fill with students, teachers, and parents. The sun was bright, the air warm. Perfect weather for a sports day he absolutely did not want to participate in.

  "You look like you're going to throw up," Tyler observed.

  "I might."

  "Please don't. We need you functional."

  Marcus jogged over from checking in with the event coordinator. "Okay, so order is: Tyler, Sophie, Leon, then me as anchor. Everyone clear?"

  "Crystal," Sophie said, stretching her legs.

  "Leon?"

  "Yeah. I got it."

  "You sure? Because you look—"

  "I'm fine."

  The announcement came over the speakers. "All relay teams to your positions. Race begins in five minutes."

  Leon's stomach churned. Around them, other teams were doing warm-ups, looking confident and athletic. Team Four looked like three actual runners and one guy who worked at KFC.

  This was going to be a disaster.

  "Hey." Marcus put a hand on his shoulder. "Just run your lap. That's all you have to do."

  "Just run my lap."

  "Exactly. We'll handle the rest."

  They moved to their positions. Tyler at the start, Sophie at the first exchange, Leon at the second, Marcus at the final position. Leon stood at his marker, watching the starting line.

  The whistle blew.

  Tyler exploded forward. He was fast—genuinely fast. Leon watched him pull ahead of most other teams, hitting the first turn with a solid lead. The crowd roared.

  Sophie grabbed the baton cleanly, taking off without breaking stride. She wasn't as fast as Tyler, but she held their position, staying in second place as she rounded the track.

  Leon's heart hammered. His turn was coming.

  Sophie approached, arm extended. Leon started running, matching her pace, hand reaching back—

  The baton slapped into his palm.

  He ran.

  His legs felt heavy immediately. The other runners were fast, really fast. He could feel them gaining. Team Two passed him on the inside. Then Team One. His lungs burned.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "Come on, Leon!" someone shouted from the bleachers.

  He pushed harder, but his body wasn't built for this. Two more teams passed him. They'd gone from second place to sixth in half a lap.

  The crowd noise swelled. He could see Marcus ahead, waiting at the exchange point.

  Just get there. Just make it.

  His legs were screaming. His vision narrowed. Everything was the track and Marcus and the stupid baton in his hand.

  He reached the exchange zone, barely, and shoved the baton at Marcus.

  Marcus took off like he'd been launched from a cannon.

  Leon stumbled to the side, hands on his knees, gasping for air. Sophie appeared beside him.

  "You did it!"

  "We're in sixth place," he wheezed.

  "Watch Marcus."

  Leon looked up.

  Marcus was moving. Really moving. He passed the fifth-place team within seconds. Then fourth. The crowd was going wild, everyone on their feet. Marcus hit the final turn in third place and somehow—impossibly—found another gear.

  He passed second place.

  Then first.

  Marcus crossed the finish line two full seconds ahead of everyone else.

  The crowd exploded.

  "We won!" Sophie grabbed Leon's arm. "We actually won!"

  Tyler was jumping up and down. Other students were cheering. Marcus jogged back to them, barely winded, grinning.

  "Not bad, team."

  "Not bad?" Sophie shoved him. "That was insane!"

  "I told you I'd handle it."

  Leon was still trying to catch his breath, but he was smiling. They'd won. Despite him nearly ruining everything, they'd actually won.

  "Sorry," he managed. "For losing the lead."

  "Are you kidding?" Marcus said. "You ran your lap. That's all that mattered. Plus you gave me a challenge, made it more fun."

  "You're insane."

  "Probably."

  They collected their first-place ribbons—actual ribbons, blue and official-looking. The rest of sports day continued around them. Other races, field events, the tug-of-war competition. Leon participated where required but mostly watched from the sidelines, legs still shaky.

  By the time everything wrapped up around 6:00 PM, he was exhausted in a different way than usual. Physical tired, not the mental drain of work and school.

  "Good job today," Sophie said as they packed up. "See? Exercise isn't so bad."

  "My legs hate you."

  "They'll thank me later."

  Marcus offered him a ride home, but Leon declined. The walk would help cool down. He said goodbye to everyone and headed out, blue ribbon stuffed in his backpack.

  The evening air was cool. His apartment building appeared after twenty minutes of walking. He climbed the stairs slowly, unlocked his door, and dropped everything inside.

  Shower first. Then food.

  He stood under the hot water for a long time, letting it work on his sore muscles. Today had been... good, actually. Tiring and embarrassing and stressful, but good.

  After, he heated up instant noodles and sat at his desk, eating mechanically.

  The apartment was quiet. Just him and the sound of traffic outside.

  Leon looked around at his small space. The secondhand furniture, the textbooks, the work uniform hanging on its hook. This was his life. Small, simple, barely making ends meet.

  And somewhere out there, Iris was running countries. Making decisions that affected millions. Building empires while he struggled to pass chemistry tests and work minimum wage jobs.

  The contrast was almost funny.

  He'd never thought much about his future beyond next month's rent. Surviving had taken up most of his mental energy. But today, running that race—even badly—had made him think about what he was actually doing with his life.

  He was eighteen. Married to the most powerful person in the world. And he was... nobody. Not even average. Just some kid barely keeping his head above water.

  That should probably bother him more than it did.

  Leon finished his noodles and opened his laptop. He had homework due Monday, but instead he found himself searching career options, degree programs, fields he might actually be good at.

  Something. Anything that would make him feel less useless.

  He didn't need to match Iris—that was impossible. But maybe he could at least become someone who wasn't completely incompetent. Someone who had something to offer besides being the husband she never wanted in the first place.

  Leon pulled up a document and started making notes. Things he was decent at, subjects that didn't bore him completely, possible paths forward. Nothing dramatic, just... thinking about it. Planning.

  Outside, the city continued its usual noise. Inside, Leon worked late into the night.