The clock struck eleven at night. In a quiet neighborhood, a small two-story house stood hidden, a tall pine tree guarding its front door. From an upstairs window, the rapid clicking of a keyboard mixed with the faint hum of electronic music.
Inside, specifically in Jacob's room, the scene was far from what anyone might expect of an average American teenager.
This wasn't just a room… it was a command center.
The walls were lined with black soundproofing panels, plastered with anime posters, classic action movie prints, and a massive framed photo of Jacob wearing a Star Wars Stormtrooper helmet.
In the left corner, a professional camera hung from an adjustable metal arm, positioned over an ergonomic desk topped with three monitors casting blue and green hues across his focused face.
An LED-backlit keyboard pulsed under his fingers, while a multi-button mouse moved with the precision of a Call of Duty sniper. A heavy-duty microphone on a metal arm swung toward him between recordings.
Jacob smirked at the camera, speaking with a half-grin:
"Yo guys! Welcome back to another episode of The Real School Survivor! Today's story? How I joined a new school and almost left with bruises shaped like a world map."
He tapped a key, triggering a slow-motion replay of him head-shooting another player online.
A quiet laugh escaped him as he added voice-over:
"Public service announcement: Don't try this at home… Try it at school. Way more entertaining."
Then he rose from his glowing gaming chair (which looked straight out of a spaceship) and walked to a nearby shelf cluttered with oddities—a boxing helmet, VR goggles, a clay figurine of Houssam, and a tiny flag that read: TEAM HOUSSAM.
"Gotta admit… I owe him one. Dude walked in like Vin Diesel… if Vin Diesel were Algerian and obsessed with naps."
His phone buzzed with a new message.
From Houssam:
"Bro, saw your YouTube vid. Fix your lighting. You look like a ghost, not a human."
Jacob chuckled and fired back:
"This ghost saved your rep, champ. LOL."
He killed the lights, leaving only his monitor glowing like a portal to another world. He flopped onto his bed, black sheets embroidered with the YouTube logo, a pillow that read "Subscribe Before Sleep."
As he turned off the last light, he muttered to himself:
"Weird school… but maybe—just maybe—I'll find a family I didn't see coming."
Silence settled… until seconds later, when his phone blared a video of Houssam yelling:
"I'd rather sleep than study! Fight me!"
Jacob laughed alone in the dark.
In her sleek, quiet kitchen, Julia Brown stood, a striking twenty-eight-year-old woman whose presence was impossible to ignore. Tall, alluring, she carried a magnetism that seemed to awaken dormant desires in anyone who looked her way. Her features were intoxicating, her figure sculpted as if designed to command attention. Yet beneath that arresting beauty lay a silent ache, scars that never fully healed.
Since her divorce, her love life has been a series of stumbles. Every new attempt ended in disappointment, as if she were reliving the same story with different faces. Men no longer saw her as only a body to be desired, not a woman to build a home with. Betrayed too many times, she'd grown skeptical of intentions, convinced most men sought only fleeting, selfish pleasure not commitment.
But with Jacob, she sensed something different. He wasn't just a rebellious teen; he was a lost soul, adrift in the fragile chaos of adolescence. She saw injustice in his story, a boy who needed real guidance, someone to keep him from detonating like a nuclear bomb in moments of rage or loneliness. The longer she held his gaze, the more she realized this wasn't just about him...
It was about her too.
In saving Jacob, perhaps she'd salvage herself—or dare to dream of a life she'd stopped believing in.
In the quiet evening, Jacob's bedroom door swung open as he stepped out with deliberate confidence. Dressed in dark trousers and a crisp white shirt tailored to his lean frame, he carried a striking handsomeness beyond his years—more suited for a romantic rendezvous than a study session.
He entered the kitchen without glancing at his mother, opened the fridge with quiet efficiency, and poured himself a glass of icy water as if the room were empty. But Julia, straightening dishes nearby, turned with eyes alight in amused suspicion:
"Got a hot date tonight? Who's the lucky girl?"
Jacob shrugged, took a slow sip, then smirked:
"Just studying with Houssam… and two others."
Julia's brows shot up:
"Since when does homework require dressing like you're headed to a TV interview?"
He laughed, moving toward the door:
"Since I met that idiot."
Julia kissed his forehead teasingly:
"When do I get to meet him?"
Jacob pushed the door open without looking back:
"Never happening."
"Why?" Her maternal curiosity sharpened his tone.
He half-turned, eyes glinting:
"Because he's different. The way he talks, that sharp mind of his… Perfect chance for you to land a boyfriend. Especially since he's your type—and younger. You're basically ancient now."
Julia cackled, swatting her shoulder:
"I'm still in my twenties, and legally? Not an option."
Jacob's laugher trailed behind him:
"Oh, I know… You'll just wait till he's legal, then pounce like a lioness!"
Julia was still wheezing when a knock cut through her laughter.
She opened the door to find a young man standing with effortless poise, his Gucci Gabana black suit hugging an athletic frame with tailored precision, exuding authority beyond his years.
"Good evening, Mrs. Brown," he said, charm lacing his mature voice. "Houssam. A pleasure to finally meet you. "Jacob undersold your beauty—a rare oversight."
Julia's brow arched at his polished manners, though her smile held:
"You're far more refined than Jacob's usual crowd. A man who knows how to treat women."
He inclined his head slightly:
"An intelligent woman deserves nothing less. Five sisters taught me to measure my words."
Julia stepped aside, laughing:
"Well… Jacob was right. You are different."
Her son caught her eye from behind Houssam, his look screaming:" Told you so.