Jane Miller had never known comfort.

She grew up in a tiny, one-bedroom apartment with peeling walls and a leaking ceiling; the air was always thick with dampness and despair. Her mother, once strong and full of life, lay in bed for years, her body frail from an illness they couldn't afford to treat.

Her father struggled to make ends meet, taking on whatever jobs he could get-construction, night shifts at the factory, even cleaning offices-just to put food on the table. Education had always been this far-off dream, something for those who were better off and with deeper pockets.

But Jane wasn't like the other kids in her neighborhood, the ones who accepted their fate and let life swallow them whole. She had fought for every grade, every achievement, and every opportunity that could pull her out of the life she was born into. And when the university scholarship came, it was more than just an escape; it was the only way forward.

Which is why sitting across from the university administrator with her scholarship hanging in the balance felt like some cruel joke. The woman behind the desk peered over her glasses at him, sharp in disapproval. "Jane Miller," she said, tapping a neatly manicured finger against a file. "It would appear that we have a problem."

Jane swallowed hard and forced herself to sit straight. "What kind of problem?"

The administrator huffed loudly, opening the folder. "Your tuition for this semester hasn't been paid.

Jane’s fingers curled into fists in her lap. “I’m on a full scholarship.”

“Were on a full scholarship.” The administrator’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Your grades last semester were… disappointing.”

A lump formed in Jane's throat. She had spent nights by her mother's bedside, listening to her weak breathing, waking at dawn to help her father before heading to classes. Exams had come and gone in a blur of exhaustion. She had done her best.

But the best of hers hadn't been good enough.

"Scholarships are not charity, Miss Miller," the administrator added, leaning back in her chair. "We grant them to students who prove themselves worthy. And frankly, with your recent performance, the board is having second thoughts as to whether you still deserve it."

The words cut deeper than Jane had expected. She wanted to argue, to tell this woman that her grades were low because life had thrown too much at her, but she knew it wouldn't matter: to people like this, struggle was an excuse, not a reason.

"I can bring my grades up," Jane said, trying to stand strong against an interior storm. "I just need a little time."

The administrator blew out a deep breath, in what felt to be a total waste of energy over this pointless conversation. "The university does not run on promises. You'll have to go if you cannot pay off the outstanding dues."

Walls were beginning to close in.

She had nothing-no backup plan, no savings. If she lost this, she'd find her way right back home, back into a never-ending cycle of which she was trying to hit the throttle off.

The administrator looked down at her wristwatch. "I can only give you up to the end of the week to find your way around the problem. This is all that's best for me to offer.

Jane nodded stiffly and rose to her feet. Her legs were weak beneath her, but she refused to show it. As she turned to leave, the administrator spoke again.

"I hope you understand, Jane," she said, her voice almost mocking. "Nothing in life comes free."

Jane clenched her jaw. Nothing in her life ever had.

Clara and Ethan. Together. In that dimly lit alley, wrapped around each other like they didn’t care who saw them. My best friend and my boyfriend. My chest felt tight, and my heart was pounding like it wanted to claw its way out.

When, at last, they'd separated, Clara looked up and stilled. Her staring eyes locked on mine, but she didn't see my face because of the fog. Ethan turned to follow her gaze, his expression shifting from surprise to panic.

“Jane, wait” he started, taking a step toward me.

But I couldn’t do it. I couldn't listen to his excuse, and I let him justify the betrayal I just saw. I stepped out of the way, shook my head, and then ran.

***

When I got to the main road, my anger had cooled down a bit. The world felt heavier than it had that morning, and all I wanted was to disappear.

That’s when I saw the old woman.

She was crossing the street, hunched over and moving slowly when a sleek black car came speeding around the corner.

“Hey, watch out!” I yelled, sprinting toward her.

I caught her just in time, grabbing her arm and pulling her back as the car swerved and slammed on the brakes, just missing her.

The car driver, a dressed man, leaped out of the car, with his expression contorted with rage.

“Blind are you? He yelled, shaking us by a finger against the old woman. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed, you stupid hag!”

My blood boiled. “Are you blind? I shot back, stepping between him and the old woman. “You’re the one who wasn’t watching the road!”

The man turned his fury on me. “You’re just a kid. Mind your business before you get yourself into trouble.”

“Maybe you should mind your business and learn how to drive!” I snapped, the adrenaline making my words sharper than I intended.

“Listen, you little”

Just then, I nipping at his heels, grabbed a rock from the shoulder of the road and used it to break his windshield. The glass cracked, spider webbing across the surface.

The man’s mouth fell open in shock. “What the”

“You’re lucky that’s all I’m breaking, " I said, glaring at him.

For a brief while there was the impression that maybe he was going to put up a resistance, but the crowd surrounding us was murmuring in disapproval. He must’ve realized he wasn’t going to win because he got back into his car and sped off, the cracked windshield glinting in the sunlight.

The old woman placed a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you, dear,” she said, her voice trembling. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Someone needed to, I replied, trying to steady my breathing.

She put her hand into her purse and pulled out a little pile of money. “Take this. It’s not much, but it’s all I can offer.”

I hesitated but eventually took the money. “Thanks,” I muttered.

She smiled at me, then just grinned and went shuffling down the sidewalk, leaving me standing.

---

I didn’t plan to end up at a bar. It was the first and only spot I was able to sit down and think of the disaster that was my life.

The bartender raised an eyebrow when I ordered a drink but didn’t say anything. I assume he didn't care if I paid up.

The first sip burned my throat, but I welcomed the distraction. For a moment or two, the pain in my chest faded, feeling replaced by a sort of fuzzy warmth.

“Hey, aren’t you a little young to be here?” a voice said behind me.

I looked up and saw a cohort of men standing nearby with knowing smirks. They looked rough around the edges, their clothes rumpled and their eyes slightly glazed.

“Shouldn’t you be in school? one of them asked, leaning closer. And do you, on the other hand, qualify as one of those wicked girls hopping around bars?

The others laughed, and my anger flared.

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” I snapped.

“Oh, feisty,” another one said, his grin widening. “I like that.”

“Good for you,” I shot back, rolling my eyes. “Now go like it somewhere else.”

The bartender finally intervened, waving them away. They mumbled a couple of insults in the process, but they left me in peace thereafter.

That’s when I noticed him.

The man in the corner.

He sat slouched in his wheelchair, a drink resting on the table in front of him. His dark eyes stared into the distance, his expression unreadable but heavy with something I couldn’t place.

I reached automatically for the drink and went over to him.

“Hey,” I said, stopping in front of his table.

He looked up, his brow furrowing. “What do you want?”

“Do you want to dance?”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “You’re joking, right?” He gestured to his wheelchair.

“Nope,” I replied, shrugging. “Everyone deserves to feel alive. Even just for a moment.”

For a brief moment, I thought he would ask me to go. However, to my astonishment, he smiled a weak, hard smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

“Alright,” he said softly. “Let’s dance.”