Something shifted inside me. Topher, who was so often consumed by work, had made space in his mind for me. For my future. He cared enough to imagine possibilities for me.
My heart was full. Josephine had done the same thing, welcoming me into her life without hesitation and treating me like family even though she had just met me. Every little smile she sent my way all added up to a feeling I hadn’t had in a long time. The feeling of home. It was all so unexpected. Being here with them made me realize how much I had missed that sense of belonging and being cared for. The way Topher looked at me, the way Josephine made me feel safe. They were showing me what home could look like. What family could be. And for the first time, I allowed myself to want it.
It made me think of my parents, and the ache of missing them tightened around my chest like a weight, making it hard to breathe, but instead of retreating from the emotion, I let it wash over me.
Topher was still talking, outlining the benefits and opportunities of the Tulane program, but his voice faded into the background, muffled by the rush of blood in my ears. I forced a smile, nodding along, while inside, the walls I had meticulously built around my heart began to tremble, threatening to come crashing down.
I didn’t need anyone. That was the mantra I’d lived by for years. I was perfectly capable of handling my own problems and messes.
But something about the way Topher looked at me now, with that quiet, patient concern, made it hard to keep those walls up.
He took a step closer, his voice soft. “You seem off. You sure everything’s okay?”
A tightness settled in my chest. How did he manage to get past the walls I put up? He was far too perceptive. He sat down on the bed, silently waiting for me to speak.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle. I bit my lip, trying to keep the words at bay, but his gaze was so steady, so darn sincere. “You can tell me. It’s okay.”
It’s okay.I wasn’t sure how he made those words carry so much weight, but somehow, they did. In that moment, all the stories I’d spun about being self-sufficient, about not needing anyone else, scattered.
I glanced at him, and he gave me the slightest nod. Taking a shaky breath, I sat down on the bed, facing him, and felt a strange sensation rising in my chest, something I hadn’t felt in a long time, like it was okay to be vulnerable.
“My parents,” I began, the words coming out in a whisper. “They were in so much debt. And they never told me. I had no idea until... until they died.”
The room felt heavy with the weight of that confession, but he didn’t look away, didn’t flinch. His attention was entirely on me as if I were the most important thing in the world. “It was a car accident when I was in my junior year of college.” My voice trembled. “After they were gone, I found out how bad things were. They’d kept it all from me, probably trying to protect me, but all it did was leave me with a big mess to clean up. I had to drop out of school, take up dead-end jobs to pay off what they left behind.”
Topher reached over, gently enclosing my hand in his. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through me.
Maybe because Topher made me feel so safe, I confessed the one thing that haunted me the most—the thing that gnawed at me relentlessly, leaving me raw and exposed. “I was such a workaholic in college.” The words tumbled out, finally free for the first time. “I stayed in the dorms every break, thought I was being so responsible, so focused on my future. I never went home. I thought I was doing the right thing, but there were so many things I missed.”
Topher kept his gaze on me, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand, grounding me in the moment.
“I should have—” I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. “I should have been there for them. I’ll never get that time back.”
“You did the best you could.” His voice was steady. “You were trying to make a future for yourself. You thought you had more time.”
A small sob escaped, and I leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around me, and even though there was no one there to see us, he pulled me close.
For the first time in years, I let myself lean on someone else and let someone else take some of the weight.
“This loan company is truly evil,” I said. “They won’t let me pay the money back early, and the interest rate just keeps climbing. It’s like being caught in an endless cycle, constantly spiraling but never actually clearing the debt.”
Topher paused, clearly thinking it over. “That sounds incredibly tough. When did they mention the prepayment penalty? Was that upfront, or did they add that in later?”
I raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Uhh,prepayment penalty? Fancy.” Then, I let out a frustrated huff. “In the fine print, of course. They make it seem normal, and then, bam, you’re trapped.”
“Do you know if this company is based locally or on one of the coasts?” he asked, his tone careful.
“I don’t even know.” I shot him a curious look. “Why? Does it matter?”
He coughed. “No, just curious. I’m so sorry this is happening to you.”
I nodded, a heavy weight lifting off my chest. It felt oddly freeing to have said it out loud, to have shared this burden with someone else.
In the quiet of the room, wrapped in Topher’s embrace, the burdens I’d been carrying for so long started to lift.
It wasn’t just that I was being held. It was thathewas the one holding me. And somehow, that made all the difference.
15
