Eugene had never planned to get married, much less have a child. Much less had a child by himself, alone. Children were expensive enough for a two-income household, and it was never easy for a single parent.
For a single parent who never planned to have a child, it was disastrous.
He was only in the second year of his career when he found out he was pregnant. He had just gotten out of probation and barely qualified for an annual leave. He had no savings for this kind of emergency, and the abruptness of the situation left him basically crippled. He was in shock, spiraling down, with no family he could call. When he came to, he was already in an omega-care facility.
No matter how generous a company was, it couldn't keep someone who couldn't work for the next five months or more.
If Eugene had to mention the time when he was at rock bottom, it would be at that time. He felt even shittier than the time he left home once he became an adult. He had nothing; he had a child in his belly that he could no longer throw away and a future murkier than a mudflat.
For the first time in his life, Eugene had to throw away his pride and accept charity.
That charity allowed him to, at the very least, deliver his baby safely and navigate through the tumultuous sea that was post-partum depression until he could stand on his two feet again.
He sought another company that allowed him to work remotely so he could take care of his daughter, and managed to work as a translator with his benefactor's recommendation.
And that benefactor was currently taking him to a posh brunch restaurant that was filled with influencers making posts for their social media. Eugene was sure he would get rejected at the door if he wasn't following Sophie. A black tracksuit, an old t-shirt he wore to sleep, thick dark circles, and an unshaven jaw--he probably looked like a homeless strolling somewhere he shouldn't be.
If it were the old him, Eugene would have felt too self-conscious to come with his current get-up. Raising a child seemed to strip him of those kinds of stares. It had been a while since he cared about how people saw him.
As a single parent who had a child without a partner, Eugene had experienced worse gaze than a mere weird look at his unkempt appearance.
Anyway, he wouldn't reject a free, expensive meal and a high-quality smoothie, especially if it was accompanied by a talk about money.
Not that Eugene was broke. His work was enough to support a single household's daily needs, even if he had to take extra project to provide something luxurious for his daughter. But raising a child did not stop at daily needs, especially when the child was about to enter school.
"So, what is this about money?" Eugene stirred the smoothie in front of him, hoping it could give him enough energy for this conversation in place of coffee. "Do you have a gig for me?"
Sophie usually gave Eugene information about ghost writing gigs for the rich or interpreter work, her own way to help her best friend without making it seem like a charity. But she shook her head in response.
"Not exactly--hey, don't look at me like that, you zombie!" Sophie kicked Eugene on his leg, who was staring at her with an unimpressed look. "I'm serious about the money, but it's not 'work'."
Eugene narrowed his eyes behind the smoothie glass, and Sophie grinned in turn.
"Remember that novella of yours?"
Eugene rolled his eyes. "The one you secretly registered for a competition last year?"
When he stayed in the omega-care facility during his unexpected pregnancy, Eugene poured out his heart into a journal. The journal was honestly...confusing, perfectly encapsulating his state of mind at that time. Later on, when he moved to his current apartment after things had stabilized with his daughter's existence, he found that journey and made a short novel using some key thoughts he could read from the jumble entries.
He didn't mean anything by it, though. He was just practicing his writing so his translation work would be smoother, since he handled fiction works. Sophie found it one day, read it, and told Eugene to enter the work in a competition.
Eugene dismissed it at that time--or rather, ignored her with a snort. Apparently, Sophie saw it as an agreement, somehow.
"Hey, you got second place, weren't you?" Sophie wiggled her fork, smirking smugly.
"Yeah, thanks," Eugene sighed. He was annoyed when he found out, but at least he could buy some nice things for Hannah afterward--and saved enough money to put her in that expensive kindergarten so she could be together with her best friend, Sophie's son. "But why are you bringing that up now?"
Sophie grinned; this time, her brows wriggled. "What do you think about turning it into a movie?"
Eugene paused; his fork stopped mid-air as his tired eyes widened slightly in confusion.
"...what?"
"Just from the contract fee alone, you won't have to struggle with Hannah's school fees anymore," Sophie continued with a smile before Eugene could sound any rejection.
Which was the right thing to do. She could see Eugene was contemplating hard; putting his fork down and crossing his arms.
Yeah. He wasn't broke, per se, but Hannah would be in elementary school next year, and he needed to start saving some money. A lot of money.
A regular school wouldn't put a lot of burden on his finances, but...
He couldn't just put Hannah in a regular school, just like how he couldn't put her in a cheap kindergarten. It wasn't his pride as much as his unwillingness to separate Hannah from Sophie's son. The kids had become best friends since they were in a crib, so how could he pull them apart?
But Sophie and her alpha husband were from wealthy families, so they didn't just put their son anywhere. The best places for children, evidently, required a lot of money.
But...
Eugene flicked his gaze toward his friend, eyes narrowed sharply. "Sophie, you..."
"I know what you're thinking, but neither Allen nor I had anything to do with it, okay?" Sophie waved her hands quickly. "Our childhood friend is a producer, and she talked about looking for some good ideas for a film when we met in a reunion a few months ago."
A reunion with a movie producer...sounded like what Sophie and her husband might do. Eugene sometimes wondered why they became friends at all.
"So I gave her your script since I still have it," she continued with a nonchalant shrug.
"Hey!"
Sophie giggled mischievously. "Anyway, I just gave it to her, okay? It's entirely her own decision to choose it or not."
Eugene stared at her easy smile. In a way, Sophie knew why Eugene needed a lot of money, and the fact that Eugene hated charity. He was prideful, even when he was at rock bottom. She still remembered the look in Eugene's eyes when he decided to accept Sophie's help five years ago.
The look of utter disappointment and self-deprecation, as if he had become a total failure.
It was never an option to give Eugene money directly. He even paid Sophie back after he started working again, as if what she gave was a debt. She could, however, helped Eugene get the money from somewhere.
"Anyway, last night she told me that she wanted to work with it," she winked. "With you."
Eugene bit the inside of his cheek. "Are you...serious?"
Sophie pursed her lips. "Do you think I'll joke about something like this?"
"You might," Eugene said dryly, remembering all the times he became a victim of Sophie's prank.
"...fair enough," Sophie nodded in a rare moment of self-awareness, before slapping the table. "But it's not, okay?"
"Hmm..."
"Well, ultimately, the decision is yours, so..." Sophie shrugged, leaning back to give Eugene time. "Think about it well."
"A movie...huh?"
Eugene picked up his fork again, filling his stomach while working his brain. Realistically, he knew the money would be good for him and his daughter. A license contract had nothing to do with whether or not the movie would be successful anyway. Even if the movie got cancelled, he'd still have the money from the initial contract.
Eugene's hesitation--aside from the fact that he didn't think his writing was all that--actually stemmed more from what might happen if the movie did get screened.
Namely, how it would be perceived by the public.
"Soph..."
"Mm?"
Eugene looked up warily, a sigh layered within his voice. "You know that story is not exactly...safe, don't you?"