—
Joshua
The lecture was dragging.
The professor was still talking about shareholder value, some endless lecture on legacy and investment, and I was fighting the urge to zone out completely when my phone buzzed against the desk.
I glanced down, thinking it was the stupid group chat I had unmuted. I didn’t know why I did, but I unmuted a lot of things on my phone, learning to chill a bit.
But no.
It was her.
My princess
My chest tightened before I even opened it.
A photo popped up: her Sports Psychology report, the big red A scrawled across the top. And right under it, the caption:
Top of the class.
For a second, I just stared at the screen.
Not breathing. Not blinking.
Oh. She did it.
After everything, after the bruises, the late nights, the cast, the crying, the endless self-doubt, she’d actually fucking done it.
And the fact that she texted me first? That she still wanted me to see it? My chest burned in the best and worst way. The corner of my mouth tugged upward, completely involuntarily.
I typed back, fingers moving before I could think—
Me: I’m proud of you.
Then paused, watching the message sit there for a second before adding—
Me: Knew you’d crush it.
When the three dots popped up on the screen, I leaned back in my chair, trying to play it cool.
But my heart wouldn’t slow down.
Because that photo…
that text…
It wasn’t just a grade.
It was her proof that she was still fighting. Still standing. Still here. And if there was one thing I was certain of, it was this:I’d never been more proud of anyone in my life.
I didn’t even realise I was smiling until Alex’s elbow slammed into my arm.
“The hell was that?” he muttered, leaning over his notebook.
I blinked, still staring down at my phone where her message sat, bright and perfect against the screen. “What?”
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “That. That. You just smiled.”
