Tuition fees were due.
And I only had half of it.
I stared at the balance on my phone, my throat tightening—
as if numbers could strangle.
Business wasn't moving.
Orders had stopped coming.
And my savings were thinning faster than hope.
I thought about asking Nathan.
But how do you ask a man who's already pulling away to help you stand?
I typed the message twice:
Hey, I'm short on my tuition, could you—
Then I deleted it.
If I asked, and he said no, I'd feel weak.
If I asked, and he said yes, I'd feel like a burden.
So I said nothing.
That's when Marcus appeared again—
like a shadow that knows when the light flickers.
Marcus: I know you've got exams coming. Do you have your fees ready?
Me: Almost.
Marcus: Don't lie. You never liked asking for help. You don't have to struggle, Elena. I can send it.
I stared at the message for a long time.
He knew. He always knew.
Marcus had this way of making his help sound like care—
but beneath it, I could always feel the weight of debt.
Not money debt—emotional debt.
The kind you spend years repaying.
Still, the fear of failing my exams pressed harder than pride.
The thought of missing out after all my struggles—
the nights I sold wigs, the days I skipped meals just to save—
it all burned in me.
I whispered, "God, please make a way."
But the only way I saw was the one I didn't want to take.
Marcus called that night.
His voice soft, almost gentle.
"You don't have to beg anyone, Elena. You're stronger than that. Let me help you—no strings attached."
I laughed bitterly. "With you, there's always a string."
He chuckled. "Then let's pretend there isn't."
After the call, I sat on the bed, tears sliding quietly.
I hated that he was right about one thing—
I didn't have anyone else.
No dad.
No mom.
No family who'd pick up the phone and say, Don't worry, I've got you.
Just me.
Always me.
And maybe that's why I broke my own rule.
Maybe that's why I whispered, "Just for now."
Because when survival starts screaming, pride goes quiet.
I didn't tell Nathan.
Maybe because I didn't know if he still cared.
Or maybe because I didn't want him to see the version of me that still needed saving.
But deep down, I knew—
this silence, this distance, this pride…
It was costing me something bigger than money.
It was costing me him.