Will had spent years chasing victory, collecting trophies to prove his worth. But when a man from his past\u2014the father he hadn\u2019t seen since childhood\u2014showed up on his doorstep, his world tilted. The past wasn\u2019t done with him, and neither was the chessboard he swore he’d never touch again.<\/p>\n
Will stepped into his apartment, tired and disheveled. The air was stale, the place a mess, not dirty but lived in. He set a new trophy on a shelf, among dozens of others, his chest as hollow as before.<\/p>\n
“Welcome to my disaster,” he muttered, glancing at Miley as she followed him in.<\/p>\n
Miley smirked. “I\u2019ve seen worse.”<\/p>\n
She examined the cluttered trophies, commenting on how many he’d won. “Yet you don’t seem to care,” she added.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t,\u201d Will replied. When she asked why he kept doing it, he admitted, \u201cIt\u2019s all I know. I need to prove it wasn\u2019t a waste.\u201d<\/p>\n
Miley\u2019s gaze softened. \u201cProve to who?\u201d<\/p>\n
Will\u2019s jaw tightened. “Someone who never cared.”<\/p>\n
Her attention shifted to a dusty, old chessboard on a shelf. Will stiffened. \u201cDon\u2019t touch that,\u201d he snapped, his voice harsh. He placed it back, avoiding eye contact.<\/p>\n
The next morning, outside his apartment, Will froze. An old man sat on the steps, his clothes tattered. He looked up, his hollow eyes meeting Will\u2019s. “It\u2019s me,” the man whispered. \u201cI\u2019m your father.\u201d<\/p>\n
Will\u2019s chest tightened. He stepped past him, coldly saying, “Let\u2019s go.” Miley followed, confused.<\/p>\n
In the car, Miley pressed him. Will, his voice flat, muttered, \u201cHe\u2019s been dead to me for twelve years.\u201d<\/p>\n
She asked about the last time they spoke. Will\u2019s grip tightened on the steering wheel. \u201cHe gave me a chessboard, then left.\u201d<\/p>\n
Miley pressed further, but Will snapped, \u201cI don\u2019t care.\u201d Finally, frustrated, she asked him to stop the car. She stepped out, leaving him behind.<\/p>\n
Later, during an interview, the host asked about his inspiration to play. Will froze, remembering his father teaching him chess. He choked on the words and abruptly left the studio, his chest tight with emotion.<\/p>\n
Back home, Will stood before the dusty chessboard, his fingers hovering over it. For the first time in twelve years, he let himself touch it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Will had spent years chasing victory, collecting trophies to prove his worth. But when a man from his past\u2014the father he hadn\u2019t seen since childhood\u2014showed up on his doorstep, his world tilted. The past wasn\u2019t done with him, and neither was the chessboard he swore he’d never touch again. Will stepped into his apartment, tired…<\/p>\n