«You’re not asking, I’m offering.» I reached across the table and took his hand. «Brandon, being a doctor is your dream. You’ve wanted this since you were eight years old. Communications? I like it, but I can study that any time. You can’t put medical school on hold. If you leave now, you might never go back.»
We stayed up all night talking about it. Brandon protested, said it wasn’t fair, said he’d find another way. But we both knew there was no other way.
The next week, I withdrew from college. The week after that, I got a full-time job as a cashier at Save Mart and I picked up weekend shifts waiting tables at a diner called Mel’s.
Those first few months weren’t too bad, honestly. I was tired, sure, but I was young and strong, and Brandon was so grateful. He’d come home from class and find me exhausted on the couch, and he’d massage my feet and tell me I was amazing.
He’d help with laundry, cook dinner on weekends, and kiss me goodnight with such tenderness that I knew—absolutely knew—we were building something beautiful together.
«Just a few more years,» he’d whisper. «Then I’ll take care of you. I’ll give you everything, Grace. I promise.»