HC: Handyman | Ch. 202 - Supermom

Everyone had logged out just before wave 29 hit.

Jack headed downstairs, drawn by the rich scent wafting up from the kitchen—garlic, rosemary, and something faintly lemony. 

He found his mother at the stove, wearing her blue apron with the faded floral print. She was humming to herself, off-key as always. But even so, Jack recognized the tune—one of those nostalgic Portuguese songs she liked.

“Hi, Mom!” he said.

“Hi, sweetie. How are you?” She turned to him with a warm smile and pulled him into a hug, still holding a wooden spoon in one hand.

“Not too bad. I was working.”

“Are you done for the day?” she asked, stirring the pots. Mashed potatoes and chicken breast, by the looks of it.

“No, I have to get back to it after dinner. I promised my colleagues I’d be back by eight.”

“More work? Oh, son. You’ve been working too much.” She brushed his arm. “Look at you—you’re pale, and you’ve lost weight. Have you been eating properly?”

“Relax, Mom. I have.” Jack gave a weak laugh. He had lost some weight, sure—but that was mostly from cutting out snacks. It was hard to get snacky while eating stews every two hours in the game. Between long sessions in the game and actual running, he’d managed to slim down a bit.

“Is Dad home yet?” he asked, changing the subject.

His mom chuckled. “Not yet. But oh, Jack—he’s so happy you’re going out with him tomorrow.”

“I doubt it. He’s probably terrified I’ll mess something up and lose him a client.”

“No. I know your father. He’s just happy to spend time with you.”

Jack smiled. He was nervous, yeah. But underneath that, curiosity stirred. When he’d pitched the idea to pursue a gaming career to his parents, he’d argued the game was teaching him real-life skills—skills that could make him as capable as any proper handyman.

Tomorrow, he’d find out if his claims really were true.

Jack lingered. His mom was humming again, off-key but content. He weighed his options. There was something he wanted to ask her, but it was kind of embarrassing.

With his dad not home yet, this might be the best time to talk.

His mom seemed to sense it. She kept sneaking glances at him, as if waiting for whatever was bubbling under the surface to boil over.

“Mom?”

“What is it, honey?”

“I… have a question I want to ask you.”

She turned slightly, spoon still in hand. “What is it?”

Jack took a breath, then sighed. “It’s about my love life.”

She yelped—an actual, high-pitched yelp—then spun to turn off the stove. Within seconds, she’d pulled out a chair and plopped into it. “Come. Sit with me. I want to hear everything.”

Jack gulped. Asking his mom for relationship advice felt like a regression, but who else was he going to talk to? His dad would probably freeze up. His teammates were cool, but he didn’t feel comfortable discussing something this personal.

“Is this about Lydia?” his mom asked.

“Yes—I mean, no. I mean… yes.”

She raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“It’s like this… I haven’t talked to Lydia in a month. Since we broke up, we’ve exchanged one text. That’s it.”

She nodded. “Do you still have feelings for her?”

Jack hesitated, then shrugged. “I still think about her. But it’s not the same. The feelings are… fading. I didn’t notice it at first, but now, when I’m working or just hanging out with my friends… I don’t miss her the way I used to. It’s like… there’s space in my head again.”

His mom said nothing, her silence inviting him to continue.

“Here’s the thing… Lydia broke up with me because I wasn’t planning for our future. She said I needed to grow up. Become more responsible.”

“She wasn’t wrong,” his mom said gently.

Jack gave a small, sheepish smile. “Yeah. I know. But lately, I have been changing. This new job—it’s been tough. I’ve had to learn fast. And the people around me they’ve pushed me to step up. I’ve had to take charge.”

“I’ve noticed,” she said softly.

He looked down. “I wonder if these changes are why I’m not missing Lydia as much. I think one of the reasons I liked her so much was that I admired her. She was strong. Reliable. Everything I wasn’t.”

“I see.”

Jack exhaled. “Back then, I think I was looking for someone to hold things together… because I couldn’t. And Lydia could. That made me feel safe. When she broke up with me, she said that if I had really loved her, I would’ve stepped up. At the time, I was angry—felt like she didn’t understand me at all. But now…”

He paused, voice quieter. 

“Now you think she was right,” his mother finally completed.

Jack nodded. “Maybe I never really loved her. Maybe I just… needed her.”

His mom’s eyes softened.

“But now that I’m holding things together myself…” Jack trailed off, then nodded slowly. “I think that’s why it feels different. I’m not drawn to her the same way anymore.”

“I get the feeling there’s more,” she said with a smile.

Jack’s cheeks reddened. Cursed be his mother’s superpowers to see through him.  “Right… I… made a new friend the other day.”

“Oooooh! What’s her name? What’s she like?”

“Cool it, Mom. It’s not like that.”

“Sorry. Sorry. I’ll be good,” she said, giggling.

“Her name’s Holly.” He finally said, looking down. “We met on the train.”

“Alright,” she said. “And?”

“I… felt attracted to her. We even exchanged numbers.”

Admitting that—to his mom, of all people—made his ears burn. He didn’t even know why it felt so pe-rsonal. He’d only talked to a girl on a train. Once! 

“What attracted you to her?”

“She seemed… hardworking. Responsible, too. But in a carefree way. She joked around, but you could tell she had her stuff together. And when I talked to her—even just for a little—it felt like we were on the same level. That felt… nice.”

His mother’s smile softened. “Was she pretty?”

“Mom?!”

She giggled, clearly pleased. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“So what’s your real question, honey?”

He sighed again, slower this time. “I don’t know. There’s more than one. Is it okay to text this new girl while I’m still thinking about Lydia? What does it mean that I want to? Why do I feel guilty just for considering it?”

His mother nodded slowly, like a doctor who’d just listened to a patient list every symptom—and knew exactly what the diagnosis was.

“It’s normal to keep thinking about someone you dated. Most people don’t fully move on from an ex until they’ve started something new.”

“Right…”

“What I’m hearing is… Lydia is in your past now. Right?”

Jack paused. The words stung. There was still a part of him that liked Lydia. But now that he’d finally voiced his feelings, he couldn’t deny it—his mom was right. Lydia felt like a finished chapter.

“Y-yeah.”

“Do you want to get back together with her?”

He sighed. “I think it’s over.”

“And she was clear when she broke up with you? She didn’t ask for a break or time to think. You two are no longer a couple.”

“Right…”

“Then I don’t think it’s wrong that you’re feeling drawn to someone else. That’s a sign your heart’s healing.”

“Okay…”

She tilted her head. “However… honey, you’ve just come out of a breakup. Your heart’s still tender.”

“So you think I should wait?”

She smiled softly. “Didn’t you just say these changes in your life are already affecting how you feel about Lydia? What if you start something new—but keep changing? What happens to your feelings for that new person if you’re still figuring out who you are?”

Jack nodded slowly.

“And didn’t you say this new girl has it all together? Would you say you do, too? I mean, son, I’m proud of you for how much you’ve changed over the past few weeks, but a young man can’t go from barely carrying his own weight to carrying someone else’s too. Not overnight. If you start a new relationship now, you risk it ending for the same reasons your previous one did.”

Jack sighed. It hurt to hear that. But it was true.

“This is your time to heal,” she said. “It’s wonderful that you’re meeting new people. That you're making friends. Just… give yourself the space to grow first. Let your heart catch up to your progress. When you’re ready—you’ll know. And then you’ll be able to build something new. Something solid.”

Jack let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. This conversation had pulled together all the loose feelings he’d been struggling to make sense of.

“You’re weirdly good at this, you know that?”

She smiled. “Well, I’ve been your mom for a while now. I’ve had practice.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“No problem, baby.” She stood, kissed him on the forehead, and turned back to the stove.

“Now, let me finish dinner. You’ve got to go back to work at eight, and I don’t want you logging in on an empty stomach.”

“It’s okay. I can sit here while you cook. How about you? How was your day?”

Dinner wasn’t quite ready, but something inside Jack already felt fuller, steadier, as they kept talking.

* 

After a peaceful, nutritious dinner, Jack logged back in at 8:00 PM.

Everyone reappeared in the courtyard within seconds of each other, blinking back into the game world.

“Hey,” Jack said, giving a nod to the others.

“Hello!” the group echoed.

“Hey,” Rob added, approaching with a grin. “What did Aunty cook?”

Jack grinned back. “Chicken and mashed potatoes. Want me to bring you some later?”

“You’re the man!”

“Alright, everyone! Time to defend the ditch. Let’s go!” Amari called as he headed off, already focused.

Rob fell into step beside Marie as they followed, chatting animatedly. She laughed at something he said, shaking her head.

Amari kept walking ahead, ignoring them both, like a chaperone pretending not to notice the date happening behind him.

Is it just me, or is Marie kind of into my cousin, too?

He turned to start crafting only to find the team’s giant beside him.

“Horace?” Jack asked.

“What’s up?” Horace replied while unpacking wooden planks, hammers, saws, and a small foldable worktable.

“What are you doing?”

“You didn’t think I’d let you make all the gear for those soldiers, did you? No way I’m missing out on some juicy carpentry XP.”

“Oh… I forgot you made shields.”

“See?” Horace pointed his hammer at him. “That’s exactly why I need to step in. Can’t have you thinking you’re the only craftsman around. It’ll hurt your humility. By the way—what’s your plan for weapons?”

Jack scratched the back of his head. “Honestly? The best I’ve got is a sharpened stick.”

Horace burst out laughing.

Jack’s cheeks reddened. “I know. Pretty pathetic.”

“Haha. Don’t sweat it. I’ll handle the weapons too,” Horace said like it was nothing.

“I thought you only made shields?”

“Shields are my specialty, yeah. But I can make all sorts of stuff. Remember the carriage?”

“Fair enough.”

Horace finished setting up, and Jack lingered for a moment, watching. He’d never actually seen Horace craft before.

Horace pulled two wide planks from his inventory and sat beside the table. He drew a faint outline in chalk, then reached for a narrow-toothed saw. Jack watched, curious, as Horace began cutting along a shallow curve.

He tilted the wood slightly and let the saw bite in, short strokes at first, then longer ones as the blade followed the curve. When the arc was done, he repeated the process on the second plank, making a mirrored cut.

With the two arcs completed, Horace started drilling along the flat edges of the plank. Jack looked enviously at how easily the drill seemed to bite into the wood. It seemed much easier than when he drilled bone.

He grabbed a jar of glue and smeared it on the flat edges. He brought the two planks together and started adding dowels to reinforce the joint, tapping each one into the pre-drilled holes with a small mallet.

It was only then—when the boards locked into place—that Jack finally saw it: the outline of a shield. A clean, functional oval, slightly tapered toward the bottom.

Jack chuckled. Horace had managed to surprise him yet again. Horace worked like he fought: fluid, powerful, focused. For such a big guy, he had incredible finesse. Jack had always known Horace could hit hard.

First I find out Marie’s a talented sculptor. Now Horace turns out to be a craftsman. And Rob’s into Marie.

I keep discovering new sides to my friends.

Jack kept watching. Horace was still whistling, still working. There was something soothing about it. Watching him work, Jack was reminded of his mother in the kitchen—humming as she stirred a pot, always off-key, always focused.

At least Horace’s whistling was vaguely musical.

Jack tilted his head. “Hey! Are you whistling March of the Embers?”

“Is it?” Horace said, not looking up as he nailed two planks together. “Oh yeah. You’re right.”

Jack grinned. Looked like his bard tunes were turning into earworms.

“Too bad your whistles don’t grant buffs.”

“Haha! Good one.”

Wave 29 comes. Beware!

The wind began howling as [Tranmontane] activated. A herd of shagrats was already stampeding to an icy doom.

With bombs echoing in the distance and Horace’s whistle still going strong nearby, Jack turned back to his own work.

Ch. 201 - Motivation Boost

INDEX

Ch. 203 - YES, SIR!