In his dream world—well, not always, but every now and then, even when awake—Anthony found himself drifting into visions of a life far removed from reality.
There, he was different. He was intelligent, gifted with talents, always at the top—whether in school, college, or any challenge life threw at him. He saw himself as an achiever who conquered everything through his own effort and hard work. How good it felt. How good it would have been… if only it were real.
In that world, he had what he never had in reality—fame that surpassed even the brightest stars. His name echoed everywhere, celebrated for his success.
He had cars—so many that he lost count. Rare collections, luxury models, the kind others could only dream of.
He had houses and properties scattered across the world, too many to remember, yet he knew that wherever he wished to go, a home awaited him.
Travel was never a concern. When he wanted the skies, his private jets carried him anywhere. When he wanted the seas, his fleet of luxury yachts—even superyachts—let him explore in style. Life in this world was abundance itself. And again, he sighed—how good it would have been, if only it were real.
But even that wasn't the end. To sustain such a life, he had made trillions of dollars. His companies were worth even more, measured in many trillions, because they had taken humanity's space technology to new heights. They were the engines of his wealth, the pillars of his empire.
And he wasn't alone. At his side was the girl he had loved since childhood—the one he never confessed to in reality because of the distance between their families. In his dream world, she was his wife. Together, they shared everything.
His parents were there too. His father, proud beyond measure, boasting to anyone who would listen. His mother, happy simply to see her son's success. Their faces glowed with joy.
Anthony smiled at the thought. Then sighed. Because all of it—every triumph, every luxury, every love—was only in his dreams, and not his reality.
Shaking his head, Anthony thought again about his dream. Then came the image of his ex—the one who had left him. In the dream, she regretted it, though in reality she never would, even if he had all the success in the world. She wasn't a gold-digger.
The reason for their breakup was still unclear to him, but deep down he knew it was because of his own lack of ability. She had called their relationship impossible, ending nearly two years together in an instant. He didn't blame her. He couldn't. After all, he was the underachiever, not her. If anything, he thought, she made the right decision.
Then—knock, knock.
A sound at his door pulled him out of the dream. Anthony blinked his half-closed eyes and slowly stood up. Daydreaming again, he thought. None of that was real. Just another dream, like the ones I always have.
As he walked toward his room's door, a mocking thought crossed his mind. Oh, he did have cars—plenty of them. But not real ones. Just toy cars, lined up on shelves, collected since childhood.
Houses? He had those too—but not properties with his name on them. Only digital ones, inside a game. He even owned skyscrapers there, had even built a city. But that was just a game.
Intelligent? Talented? Gifted? No—none of those belonged to him. In reality, he was average. That's all he was.
And money? Yes, he had trillions. But again, only inside a game. A hacked version, no less. The numbers looked impressive, but they held no real value. Just empty digits on a screen.
He didn't have a wife in reality. First of all, he was only sixteen—still far from marriage.
As for a girlfriend, well, he did have one. He had already mentioned her in his dreams, hadn't he? She had left him only a few months ago. The real reason was never clear, but he had his guesses. It wasn't something petty like "you're nothing." Even though, in truth, he was nothing. No, it was more likely because he wasn't capable enough, or didn't have good prospects for the future. That was why she left him. That was why she moved on.
That breakup became his wake-up call. He realized that if things stayed the same, his future would be no better than his present. So he accepted reality and pushed himself to change—to focus on himself, to improve. It was hard. Shifting suddenly from his daily lazy habits to concentrating on studies was no easy thing. He had always found studying boring, something that made him drowsy the moment he opened a book. But he held himself up as best he could.
Even so, his efforts often fell short of what he imagined. He wanted instant success, big results—but reality was slower, harsher.
Math especially tested him. Its concepts slipped past his mind like bouncers, leaving him confused. Why must x equal y? he thought. Why can't x just be x, and y just be y? The more he questioned, the less he understood.
It frustrated him. Yet strangely, whenever he managed to solve a problem, he felt a spark of happiness. One solved question pushed him to attempt another, then another. It was weird, yes—but he liked it nonetheless.
Still, other subjects gave him trouble too, and that frustration lingered. He sighed at the thought as he reached the door of his room. His hand rested on the knob. He twisted it and opened the door.
It was his mother, Amelia. She had just knocked.
In her hand was a tray with some snacks and juice, carefully balanced on one arm.
"Oh, it's you, Mom," Anthony said quickly, urging her to come in.
She stepped inside and set the tray down on his study table, her face lit with a soft smile.
"Don't think too much about what your father said," she told him gently. "He didn't mean it harshly—he's just worried about you."
Anthony smiled back. "I understand, Mother. And I'm not thinking about it."
"Good." She gave him a satisfied nod. "Then finish your snack. I'll leave you be."
With that, she slipped out quietly, likely heading back to the kitchen, while Anthony sat down, still holding on to the warmth of her words.