Chapter 3

Chris's POV

There are only two things in this world capable of draining the life out of me completely:

My father when he comes home drunk…

and Mrs. Adelaide’s lectures.

“I expect all essays submitted before the commencement of examinations,” Mrs. Adelaide droned from the front of the hall. “They will contribute greatly to your continuous assessment scores.”

I swear every word out of that woman’s mouth aged me another year.

Just as she announced she was moving on to the next topic, the siren suddenly blared across the lecture hall, signaling the end of her class period.

Thank God.

Relief washed through the room instantly as students began packing up. Honestly, another ten minutes in that class and my soul might’ve left my body permanently.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and stepped out into campus, already feeling the weight of another problem settling onto my chest.

Money.

Always money.

I still had part of my tuition left to pay, and exams were getting dangerously close. Three whole days had passed since I last heard from Esteban.

No messages.

No calls.

No clients.

Which meant no money.

The pressure of it all hit me so hard that I ended up collapsing onto one of the outdoor benches in the campus yard. Students moved around me in noisy groups while the afternoon sun beat against my face.

Everyone looked like they had somewhere to be.

Somewhere better.

“Chris!”

I turned toward the voice and immediately smiled.

Aubrey.

We’d been friends since tenth grade, and somehow she’d survived all my moods, sarcasm, and terrible life choices. She was in the Arts Faculty majoring in Creative Arts, and from the way she was practically marching toward me, I could already tell she had gossip to share.

I waved lazily from the bench.

She dropped beside me and immediately pulled me into a tight hug.

“How are you, queen?”

I gave her a long side-eye.

She laughed loudly. “Oh, come on. You know it fits you.”

“Unfortunately for me, it does not.”

“Liar.”

I rolled my eyes while she grinned proudly at herself.

“So,” she said, nudging my shoulder, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing much. Just survived Mrs. Adelaide’s class and now I’m trying to figure out how I’m gonna pay the rest of my tuition before exams start.”

The humor faded from her face immediately.

“How’s the student loan application going?”

I let out a dry laugh.

“Denied.”

“What?” Her eyes widened. “How?”

“I don’t even know. Opened my email last month and boom — rejected.”

“That’s insane.” She shook her head angrily. “Why does the education system in this country make everything so difficult?”

I shrugged weakly.

“I’m so sorry, Chris.”

And the thing about Aubrey was that she always meant it. She felt things deeply — not just for herself, but for everybody around her too.

Back in high school, there was a time I came to school hungry for almost a week straight. She noticed on the third day and gave me her lunch without even asking questions.

After that, she started bringing food for two every day.

That was Aubrey.

“What about getting a job?” she suddenly asked, sitting up straighter like she’d just solved world hunger. “Even if it’s temporary, the money could help with tuition.”

And there it was.

The one part of my life I couldn’t tell her about.

Not because she’d judge me. Aubrey wasn’t like that.

But saying it out loud would make it real.

I’m selling my body to stay in school.

Somehow hearing those words outside my own head felt unbearable.

“Yeah,” I said carefully. “I actually applied somewhere.”

Her eyebrows lifted immediately.

“Oh really? Where?”

“Uh…” I scratched the back of my neck. “Somewhere.”

She blinked slowly.

“Chris.”

“What? It’s not important.”

“It’s suspicious.”

I laughed nervously. “All you need to know is that if I get this job, I’ll finally make enough money to survive school.”

She studied me for a second before finally sighing.

“Alright then. I hope you get it.”

Thankfully, the interrogation ended there.

She glanced at her phone and groaned dramatically.

“Crap. I’ve got Art Philosophy in like…” she checked again, “ten minutes.”

“My condolences.”

“Rude.”

Before standing, she grabbed my face suddenly and planted an obnoxiously wet kiss on my cheek.

“Take care, queen. Love you.”

I grimaced instantly.

“I hate when you do that.”

“And yet I continue.”

I watched her walk away laughing to herself, shaking my head fondly.

Then silence returned.

Just me sitting alone on the bench again with my thoughts.

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed inside my pocket.

Please let this be a miracle alert with my full tuition magically deposited into my account.

I pulled it out, squinting against the sunlight reflecting off the screen.

Then my stomach tightened.

You got a customer, kid. Head down to the office. Sharp.