04.

ISABELLA

I spend the next four hours mechanically pouring coffee, flipping plates, and running on pure adrenaline and the lingering, confusing high of the Greenville acceptance letter, even as the room of the Noah situation loomed.

The instant my shift is over, I throw my apron on the hook.

"Later, drama queen!" Chloe yells after me, a knowing laugh in her voice.

"Don't call me that!" I call back, already halfway out the door. Drama queen was yet another of Noah's nickname for me.

Leo just gives me a wave and a gentle, annoying smirk. "See you tomorrow, Minnie."

I resist the urge to flip him off. That name is going to be the death of me.

My walk home is short, but the mood shift is immediate and brutal. 'Home' isn't a place of comfort; it's a carefully managed minefield.

The moment I walk up to the small, unkempt house, the giddy feeling vanishes, replaced by a familiar knot of anxiety in my stomach.

I hate this feeling. The one where I have to mentally prepare for battle just to walk through my own front door.

I push the door open, trying to be quiet. No such luck.

"Isabella! What time do you call this?"

My father, James, is immediately in the entryway. He isn't loud, but his voice is cold and precise, like a fucking scalpel. He's already seated in his armchair, a newspaper lowered in his hands, but his eyes... dark and judging... are locked on me.

"I finished my shift, Dad," I reply, trying to keep my voice even. "I had a double today. It was busy."

"A double?" My mother, Greta, appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She looks tired, but her eyes hold that familiar, tight resentment. "Well, that's what you're paid for, isn't it? To work. So, you're late, you're tired, and you're still not doing enough."

I just sigh. There's no winning this.

"Never mind that," my father cuts in, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Your payday was yesterday. Where is it?"

I mentally brace myself. This is the real reason for the greeting.

"Dad, I already told you, I need to keep some of it back this time." I walk over to the armchair, pulling the crisp bills out of my wallet. I count the half of what I'd earned. "This is for the bills, but I need the rest. I'm going to Greenville."

My mother's eyes widen, a flicker of something sharp passing through them. "Greenville? What nonsense is this now? You've already wasted enough time and money on those applications."

"I got in, Mum," I say, trying to push past the familiar dread and hold onto a tiny piece of my earlier excitement. "I got the full scholarship. I'm going."

The silence in the room is heavy.

My father takes the money I offered him and stack it neatly on the table. He doesn't look impressed. "Scholarship or not, you will still need to contribute to this household, Isabella. We've housed you and fed you for eighteen years. You owe us." He reaches out and grabs my arm, his grip surprisingly firm. "Hand over the rest of the money."

I pull my arm away. "No, Dad. I need it. I have to buy things for the dorm. Textbooks. I need a security deposit."

"A security deposit?" my mother scoffs, crossing her arms. "For what? You think you're too good for the university dorms now?"

I take a deep breath. "The dorms are full, Mum. I have to live off-camous. The rent is.. it's going to be a lot, even with the scholarship covering the tuition."

My father stands up, his gaze intimidating. "So you expect us to pay for this 'off-campus' luxury whike you swan off to your fancy education? Absolutely not. Every single dollar you earned stays in this house until you leave. And if you're leaving, you leave nothing but debt behind."

He walks towards me, holding out his hand, his eyes demanding the rest of the cash.

"Dad, I swear, this is for my future. I can't afford to go if I don't have this money." I plead, my voice cracking a little. "It's quarter rent, it's not too much, but I still need it."

"Quarter rent? Don't make me laugh," my mother snorts. "You're living in a fantasy world. Give him the money, Isabella. Now."

I stare at them both. The lack of pride, the complete dismissal of my achievement, the focus only on what they could extract from me... it's all so predictable, and yet it still stings. This is why the scholarship means everything. It's my ticket out.

Finally, I pull out the remaining bills and slap them onto his waiting palm, the anger and resentment bubbling up. "There. Happy? Is that enough to tide you over for another month?"

My father counts the money again, his expression unchanged. "The attitude is unnecessary, Isabella. You will learn some respect before you leave this house."

"I'm leaving for college, Dad. It's not a punishment." I mumble, fighting back tears.

"It will be if you go broke and have to come crawling back," my mother says, a cruel, satisfied look in her eyes. "Now, I need you to clean up the kitchen. You're home late, so you can make up for it by doing the dishes."

"But I just worked a double!" I protest, throwing my hands up.

"And now you're home," my father states simply, the final word on the matter. "Do what your mother says."

Defeated, I turn and walk into the kitchen, tears stinging my eyes. The plates are piled high, and the sink is full of greasy water. As I scrub, all I can think about is my rent.

Quarter rent.

I have to get my money back. I just have to. I can't move in without a security deposit. I can't even buy a lock for my door.

"This is ridiculous," I mutter to myself, scrubbing a particularly stubborn pot.

After I finishe the dishes, I retreat to my small bedroom, closing the door softly. I pull out my laptop and stare at the email, the glorious, life-changing acceptance letter.

Then, I open a new browser tab.

*Greenville off-campus housing.*

*Apartment security deposit laws.*

*How to secretly move out of a parent's house.*

My hands are shaking as I type. I'm going to find a way. I have to. And I need to talk to Hardin about the money immediately. Maybe he can front the deposit. Maybe I could pay him back. He'll understand. He always does.

I pick up my phone to text him, but pause. The thought of adding my financial disaster to the already complicated Noah situation makes me hesitate. Maybe I should wait until the morning.

No. I can't wait.

*Me:* Babe, call me. Urgent. It's about the security deposit. 😔

I throw the phone down on the bed, my head spinning. I have to get out.

The air in this house is suffocating. I need space to breathe and plan. And I need to figure out how I'm going to survive not just Greenville, but the impending roommate situation with the man who calls me Minnie and whose abs I was apparently a secret admirer of.