Lia and I were sitting on the grass near the campus fountain, her sneakers dangling over the edge as she scrolled through her phone. "Ugh, Morayo," she groaned, tossing it aside. "I swear, this guy I'm talking to… stingy, boring, predictable. He asked me if I had eaten, I said no , and his useless self said I should eat for him, because in his word "I don't want my baby to starve". Like what do you mean eat for me?!
I smiled weakly, watching her animatedly gesture, her laughter loud enough to draw curious glances from passing students. "Sounds… frustrating," I said carefully.
"Frustrating?" Lia leaned toward me, eyes wide. "It's tragic! I mean, a girl has to eat, Morayo. And here he is, telling me to eat for him , complaining about his wallet while I'm over here being fabulous. Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I even bother."
I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "Maybe you just like the drama."
"Drama? Darling, life is drama. This is called testing my patience. I'll survive. But he won't see me again until he fixes his… miserly ways."
Her confidence made me ache just a little, a bittersweet pang. I had friends like Lia, fearless and unapologetic, and yet here I was, timid, careful, living in constant worry about money, studies, and sometimes—love.
Later that evening, I found Daniel sitting on the steps of the library courtyard, head in his hands, eyes shadowed with fatigue. He looked up when he saw me, forcing a tired smile.
"Hey," he said quietly.
"Hey," I replied, sitting beside him. I noticed how thin his backpack made his shoulders look, how the sleeves of his shirt seemed slightly too worn. I could see the stress etched on his face.
I already know something was up before he even opened his mouth.
He exhaled slowly. "I don't know how to fix it, Morayo. The internship barely pays anything, and the rent… I don't know. I just… I feel like I'm drowning. I can't get ahead, no matter how hard I try."
My heart tightened. I wanted to take away his problems, but I had so little myself. Still, I fished into my small wallet, counting the notes I had saved from my cafe shifts. Enough for a few days of groceries, maybe.
"Here," I said softly, pressing the small stack into his hand. "It's not much, but… maybe it'll help."
Daniel looked at me, surprise flickering across his tired eyes. "Morayo… you don't have to."
"I want to," I said. "I know what it's like to struggle. I know how it feels to feel trapped. Just… use it to get by."
He took it, clutching it tightly, as if holding on to more than just money. He smiled then, a genuine smile, and it made my chest ache. "Thank you," he whispered. "Really. You don't know how much this means."
I shrugged lightly, trying to hide how much it meant to me too. Helping him—just a little—made me feel… powerful in a way I rarely allowed myself to feel.
We sat together in silence, the evening wind soft against our faces. He didn't have to say anything more; I understood. Love wasn't always grand gestures or lavish gifts. Sometimes, it was quiet, small, like sharing what little you had, like showing up even when life felt heavy.
And in that quiet, I realized I wanted to be the one he could rely on... not because I had much, but because I would be there. Always.