A Year of Revision and Amour : Carl Gallagher

Too good to give up.

Areum's morning started the same as it always did. Her alarm beeped softly, just enough to pull her out of a light sleep. She rolled over, staring at the ceiling. It had been over a month since she'd been released from juvie, and the routine was starting to suffocate her. It was the same every day.

Her parents were strict—especially now that they didn't trust her. She could feel the way their eyes followed her every move. She could tell they were waiting for her to slip up. But Areum had no energy to give them a reason. Everything in New York felt distant. The city was loud, her school was too big, and the people were strangers. She still didn't talk to anyone.

Areum trudged through the day—class after class, sitting in the back, hoping not to be noticed. She was used to being ignored, but that was the way she wanted it. Her parents had been pushing her about grades and attitude, trying to micromanage every little thing. She didn't care. At least not right now.

By lunchtime, Areum had tuned out most of her classes. She found her usual spot in the back of the cafeteria and pulled out her phone. A new message lit up her screen, and she sighed in relief. It was Carl.

**Carl**: Yo. What's up, kid?

Areum shook her head and smiled slightly. Carl was one of the few people she still stayed in touch with since juvie. Even though they both got out, they had different paths now. But Carl? He was still in Chicago, doing whatever reckless stuff he always did.

**Areum**: Same thing every day. It's boring as hell here. What are you up to?

Her phone buzzed again almost immediately.

**Carl**: Met up with Nick today. We've been running some stuff. Crazy day, I'll tell you.

Areum bit her lip. She knew what Carl meant by "running stuff." He hadn't changed much since they were both locked up. The gangster attitude, the street life—it was all part of who Carl was. She didn't know why she even cared to check in sometimes, but she did. It was like she couldn't completely leave that life behind.

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**Meanwhile in Chicago...**

Carl's day was already off to a wild start. He walked through the streets of the South Side like he owned the place, his baggy jeans and hoodie giving off that same reckless vibe he'd been rolling with for months. He was always the extroverted one, the guy everyone knew could handle himself. The type who never took anything too seriously—except when it came to respect.

Nick had hit him up early that morning. Carl knew Nick from juvie, and since they both got out, Nick had become one of the few people Carl trusted. He was quiet, dangerous, but loyal. When Nick called, Carl listened.

"Yo, we got some business," Nick had said on the phone.

Carl was ready. Hustling had been his life before juvie, and it hadn't stopped just because he spent time locked up. The South Side was still his playground, and he wasn't about to let anyone take that from him.

Carl met up with Nick at the usual spot, a rundown building near the train tracks. The type of place no one paid attention to, but everyone in the neighborhood knew was where things went down. They talked briefly, then set out for the day. Nick had a plan—they were gonna move some weight, sell some guns, and make quick cash.

By noon, Carl had already been in two sketchy alleyways, counting stacks of bills while Nick handled the details. There was a rush in this life, one Carl never really wanted to give up. He liked the thrill of it all—the danger, the power, the feeling that he was in control.

But Nick? Nick was unpredictable. Quiet but ruthless. Carl liked rolling with him because they understood each other. They had both come from messed up places, and juvie hadn't done anything to make them want to change. If anything, it taught them how to play the game smarter.

"Yo, let's hit that spot by the liquor store," Carl suggested. "The guys there been asking for more supply."

Nick nodded, and they made their way over, slipping into the back alley like they owned it. Carl was always the talker, the one who could handle business. He wasn't afraid to get in someone's face if they disrespected him. But most people didn't. Carl had built a reputation, and people knew not to mess with him.

A few hours later, Carl's pockets were lined with cash. He lit a cigarette, leaning against a fence as Nick counted the day's haul. "Not bad for a morning, huh?"

Nick grunted, tucking the bills away. "You keep this up, man. Ain't nobody gonna mess with you."

Carl smirked. He knew it. He wasn't the scared little kid anymore. Out here, he was in charge. No games. No hesitation.

As the afternoon dragged on, Carl's phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced at the screen—Areum again.

**Areum**: You ever think about changing it up? Doing something different?

Carl chuckled to himself. Areum had always been more serious than him. Thoughtful. Maybe too much for her own good.

**Carl**: Why? You missin' this life already?

**Areum**: Nah. Just thinking.

Carl exhaled a cloud of smoke, looking out at the streets. Maybe Areum was right to be thinking about something different. But Carl wasn't ready for that. This life, the hustle, the fast money—it was too good to give up. Not yet, anyway.