His voice was calm, low.
“I circled the ones I figured you might be interested in.”
I turned toward him, eyes darting between the mess and his face. He didn’t meet my eyes, just leaned a hand against the table, looking almost… nervous.
He’d done all this before I even came. Before I even believed him. He was actually trying.
My fingers tightened around my phone.
I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. I just walked closer, scanning the pages.
Bookstore.
Tutor assistant.
Library aide.
Even a research intern for the psychology department, remote, part-time.
Jobs I didn’t even think someone like me could have. And then, softly, almost as if he were afraid to break whatever silence had settled between us, he said,
“You don’t have to pick one today. Just look. We’ll figure it out.”
We’ll.
I sat cross-legged in front of the coffee table. The air between us was quiet, soft, still, except for the faint scratch of a pen and the sound of paper shifting.
Pages were spread everywhere. Job titles. Pay rates. Locations. Some with messy circles, some crossed out so hard the ink bled through.
I pulled one closer and started typing on my phone, opening each listing, scanning qualifications, and filling in little boxes that asked for names and resumes.
He sat across from me on the couch, head tilted down, jaw clenched in focus as if this were his own assignment.
Every few minutes, he’d reach out and drag another paper closer, eyes narrowing. Then his pen moved again, circle. Cross. Underline.
“Since you’re a genius,” he said suddenly, tone casual but his eyes still on the papers, “I’m sure you can do remote work in psychology.”
My fingers froze on the keyboard. I slowly looked up at him. He didn’t look back. He was still focused, scanning through the sheets, the corner of his mouth twitching with thought.
“My aunt’s husband owns a research company,” he continued, voice low. “They take interns sometimes. Mostly grad students, but I can talk to her. See if he’ll look into it.”
He said it like it was no big deal, like it wasn’t him trying to fix what he’d broken with something good. I didn’t know what to do with the warmth in my chest. Didn’t know what to do with the way he said I’ll talk to her, like my future was something he wanted to help rebuild.
So I just nodded, quietly typing my last answer into the job form.
He stood up suddenly, pushing off the couch with one hand. Papers fluttered from his knee onto the table, and before I could ask anything, he was already pulling his phone from his pocket.
“I’ll make the call,” he said simply, and walked toward the balcony doors.
I stayed on the floor, blinking after him. The line rang once, twice, and his tone changed the moment someone picked up.
“Hey, Auntie. Yeah—it’s me,” he said, leaning one hand against the glass door, back to me. His voice was low, steady, and professional. I’d never heard him sound so… polite. “I need a favour. No, not for me. For someone else.”
Someone else.
He turned a little, glancing over his shoulder like he was checking if I was still there. I was… still sitting on the floor, laptop open, pretending to scroll through job listings when really, every word leaving his mouth felt like it was echoing inside me.
“She’s studying psychology,” he continued. “Sharp. Top of her class, probably smarter than half your staff.”
