James woke before the first light touched the sky.
For a few quiet seconds, he simply lay there, staring at the faint outline of the ceiling. Sleep still clung to him, but underneath it was something sharper—determination. The kind that had carried him through years of hardship, the kind that didn't let him rest too long.
He pushed himself up slowly.
Even in the dimness, the signs of his struggles showed.
His shoulders were lean but strong, the result of years of doing everything himself.
His face carried a quiet tiredness, the kind that didn't come from lack of sleep but from carrying responsibility at a young age.
Yet, somehow, there was still a calm strength in his eyes—soft, steady, refusing to give up.
He washed his face, combed his hair carefully, and dressed neatly.
He always made sure he looked presentable—clean shirt, simple jeans, nothing expensive, but worn with pride. Poverty didn't mean untidiness. His mother raised him better than that.
As he buttoned his shirt, his phone buzzed on the table.
"Good morning, sir. My brother needs tutoring. We saw your flyer."
James exhaled in relief.
Finally—after a week of waiting, someone had called.
He typed a respectful reply and agreed to meet the student later in the afternoon, after classes.
Today mattered.
He packed his books, double-checked his notes, and placed his old, slightly cracked phone inside his pocket. His heart carried a quiet hope—a step forward, a chance to earn something, a chance to lighten his parents' burden.
Behind him, his roommates began to stir.
Samuel yawned loudly and stretched. "James, you're up early as usual."
Peter rubbed his eyes. "I swear you're not human. How do you wake before the birds?"
James smiled faintly. "Habit."
"Or survival instincts," Samuel teased, pulling on his shirt.
They all laughed softly.
Despite James keeping his distance, they had grown comfortable around him. They didn't push him, didn't pry into his life—they simply accepted the quietness he came with.
As they packed their own things, Samuel slapped James gently on the back. "Big week, yeah? Classes are no joke."
"Tell me about it," Peter added. "But we'll survive."
James nodded. "We will."
"Good luck with your tutoring," Samuel said, grabbing his bag.
"And good luck with not stressing yourself to death," Peter joked.
James smirked lightly. "I'll try."
They stepped out of the lodge together, sunlight finally touching the campus, warming the cold morning air. At the gate, they split off in different directions, each heading to their department.
James paused for a second, adjusting his backpack.
A new day.
A new class.
A new chance.
And for him—a new responsibility waiting after school.
He took a quiet breath and walked forward, ready for whatever the day would bring.