In a sunlit meadow by the ocean, a breathtaking wedding unfolds. White aisles line the green grass, flanked by rows of elegant chairs draped in soft linen. Flowers in full bloom spill their colors over every surface, all arranged with care to celebrate a love in bloom.
Guests fill the seats, their chatter blending with the gentle ocean breeze. Grace sits in the middle row on the right side, her hands coming together in an enthusiastic round of applause as her friend Maddison walks down the aisle.
The bride and groom, radiant with joy, smile wide as they make their way to the stage. Grace cheers along with the crowd, her voice rising in chorus with others.
"Congratulations, Maddison!"
The moment is golden, suspended in sunlight and celebration.
Three days later, Grace clutches a temporary passport as she steps into Mellany Airport. She exhales a breath she didn't know she was holding. Finally—going home.
It's been a difficult journey, one filled with twists she hadn't planned for. Thank you, Lord, for keeping me safe and bringing me back, she prays silently, making her way to the check-in counter.
An hour later, she sits by the airplane window, watching the runway blur in streaks of light and motion. The cabin hums softly with the quiet buzz of conversation and shuffling passengers. A calm voice comes over the intercom:
"Our flight is now departing for L. Bingo. Estimated flight time is eight hours. We hope you have a pleasant journey with us."
Grace closes her eyes, letting the smooth tone of the pilot settle her thoughts. But behind her closed eyelids, a single name drifts into her consciousness—Julian.
Who is he, really? The question loops in her mind. Where does he live? He didn't seem like a local. His accent mirrored hers—American.
Then, she remembers the call from the credit card company. The agent's voice was polite but firm: The cardholder, Julian, has chosen not to share his contact information.
Her chest tightens. Rejected. That's what it feels like. He could've at least given me his number. I wasn't asking for a date, she thinks bitterly, folding her arms across her chest. I just wanted to pay him back.
But as she tries to push away the frustration, her gaze drops to her arm. A fresh bandaid that she used this morning clings to her skin—the one Julian had brought to her hotel room that day, along with ointment. A quiet kindness.
She can't deny it. For all his reserve, he's been nothing but thoughtful.
I don't know anything about him—not really, she reflects. But he's a good man. He didn't have to help me. Yet he did.
She looks down at the iPhone nestled in her palm. Another gift. Another gesture.
Guilt creeps in now, soft and unwelcome. How could I be upset over something so small? He gave me so much, and I couldn't even thank him properly.
The plane lifts off the ground, and as the earth falls away beneath her, so does the weight in her chest. There's a strange comfort in ascent, in being between places.
Grace bows her head and whispers a quiet prayer—for Julian. For the man she barely knows but will never forget.
This is all I can do for him now, she thinks, letting the hum of the engine and the lull of altitude rock her gently into sleep.
A warm summer breeze stirs the trees as Grace steps onto the university campus. The sky above is a cloudless blue, painted with the kind of clarity that usually lifts spirits—but not today. Not for her.
The sunshine feels out of place against the heaviness in her chest.
Today is the day she says goodbye.
She walks with purpose, though her heart resists every step. She's headed to the administration office to formally withdraw from her master's program—a decision she never thought she'd have to make. Not like this. Not because of money.
Tears well in her eyes, but she blinks them away, shaking her head as if trying to scatter the sadness.
It's okay. God will help me somehow. Don't cry now… You've cried enough.
She quickens her pace, her footsteps growing faster, almost urgent—anything to outrun the sorrow pressing down on her. She hates how unfair the world can be. Her family, once stable, had been completely gutted by a scam that stole everything. The fraud left behind nothing but debt, pain, and the burden of starting over with empty hands.
Why does it have to be like this? she wonders, but there's no answer, only silence and the sound of her own breathing as she climbs the campus stairs.
Mellany… perhaps that place had been a dream. A brief, fleeting escape from reality—just a few days of peace, like a season of calm before everything unraveled once more. Maybe it was a gift, a brief reprieve from God, a moment to forget the reality.
Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, Grace steps into the quiet administration office. A woman at the desk looks up, offering a polite but curious glance.
"Hello," Grace says softly. "I'm here to inform you that I'm withdrawing from the master's program."
The woman pauses for a moment, clearly surprised. Withdrawals are rare here—this is a prestigious school. People don't give it up easily.
But the surprise fades quickly into professionalism. She nods, reaches into a drawer, and places a withdrawal form on the desk between them.
"You'll need to fill out your personal information, your current program, and the reason for leaving. Once it's submitted, it takes about a week to process. We'll update you via email."
Grace nods without a word and picks up the pen.
Her hand moves mechanically as she writes her name, her birthdate, the title of her master's program. But when she reaches the box marked
The tears return.
Despite her best efforts to hold them back, one falls—splashes quietly into the paper. Flustered, she wipes her cheeks quickly with the back of her hand. The ink blurs slightly where the tear hits.
She writes: Financial reason.
No need to tell the whole story. The box is too small for everything that's gone wrong.
She places the pen back on the desk and hands over the form.
"Here. I've filled everything in."
The woman takes it gently, having noticed the tears but saying nothing of them. Only her voice softens a little.
"Thank you. Well… have a great day."
"You too. Have a great day," Grace replies, trying to sound light. Almost casual.
But her voice trembles, just enough to give her away.
She turns quickly, stepping out of the office and into the corridor, her heart aching as if something precious has been pulled from her. There's no hesitation in her pace now. She practically runs, barely breathing, making her way toward the nearest bus stop.
She just wants to leave before anyone sees her cry again.
Grace returns home later that evening, though home feels like too generous a word now. In just one month, the place she's lived her whole life will no longer belong to them. The fraud didn't just empty their accounts—it took ownership of the house too, as though stealing money wasn't enough.
She walks in, closes the door softly behind her, and stares at the familiar hallway for a long moment. Her chest aches with quiet helplessness.
Tears sting her eyes again before she even makes it to her room.
She rushes into the small bedroom, throws herself onto the bed, and pulls the blanket over her head like a shield from the world. She curls into herself, the silence of the room only amplifying the roar of her thoughts.
That's when her phone rings.
She lifts her head slightly and sees the screen light up with a familiar contact: Mom.
Wiping her face quickly with the corner of the blanket, Grace presses the call.
"…Yes, Mom…" she answers, her voice muffled and tired.
"…Did you go and submit the school withdrawal form?"
"…Yeah. I did."
A silence hangs between them. Heavy. Grief-stricken.
Her mom doesn't speak, and she doesn't have to. Grace can feel the sorrow over the phone line. Her mother, a respected professor, had always imagined Grace following in her footsteps—teaching, researching, thriving. But dreams are fragile, and life has been ruthless.
The pause lingers before Grace gently offers an escape.
"Well, Mom… I'm just sleepy. I'll see you later when you get home."
"…Okay, Grace."
The call ends quietly.
Grace lowers the phone and stares at the screensaver glowing softly in her hand. This phone—the one Julian gave her in Mellany—is still with her. She'd slipped in a local SIM card after returning home, unable to afford anything else. But it works well enough.
Every time she picks it up, she thinks of him.
Julian.
She doesn't even know his number. No way to reach him. Only his name… and the memory of everything he did to help her.
Grace sighs, then buries her face into the pillow, letting the night fall around her in silence.
The next morning, her eyes blink open instinctively.
It's 7:30 AM. Her usual wake-up time for graduate school.
Without thinking, she reaches for her phone. She checks the time, her body beginning its old routine, and starts to sit up—
Then stops.
She falls back into bed with a thud. The realization washes over her again.
Right… I quit school. Because of the money…
She lets out a small, hollow laugh, and fresh tears threaten to return. She pulls the blanket up, covering her face, hoping to hide from the day she no longer has to live like she used to.
That's when her phone rings.
Grace frowns slightly, blinking away the sting in her eyes, and picks it up. The number is unsaved—most are these days. She hasn't had time to re-enter contacts on this new SIM.
She answers, voice rough and soft. "Hello?"
A cheerful female voice responds from the other end.
"Hello! This is the administration office. Miss Grace Silver, you'll need to head over to campus this morning—building 101, room 403—for your major course."
Grace sits up slowly, confused. "Sorry… what?"
"Yes," the woman repeats with the same friendly tone, unaware of Grace's stunned silence. "You've been reinstated into the graduate program. You're expected to attend your major's class today. Room 403, building 101. Please arrive before 9 AM."
She stares at the phone in disbelief.
What just happened…?