Cheers, Surprises & That One Call
The celebration was supposed to be small. Just a few of us. Just one night.
After the bonus credit announcement, Saraph, who'd been on a high since morning, grabbed her phone and declared, "Tonight, we feast!"
"I thought we were broke?" Caleb asked skeptically.
"Joy is free," she replied, already dragging out a fairy light string from her drawer like she'd been planning this since forever.
By 8:00 p.m., Jordan had somehow managed to find an actual speaker, Timi brought snacks he "borrowed" from the hostel pantry, and Daniel lit a cinnamon-scented candle in the corner of my room.
"Don't ask why I own this," he said.
"Daniel has a cinnamon-scented soul. You heard it here first," I teased, bumping his shoulder.
Everyone was glowing with relief.
The low music, shared laughter, and Saraph's wild charades attempt made the air feel thick with joy.
We weren't just classmates tonight, we were something closer, a strange, beautifully chaotic little family.
I had just started slow-dancing with Daniel in the dim corner of the room, his arms around my waist, my head against his chest, when my phone buzzed sharply on the table.
I ignored it.
It buzzed again.
Then again.
Finally, I picked up, stepping out onto the balcony to answer.
"Hello?"
"Nuella?" My mother's voice. Tired. Uneasy. Too calm to be good.
"Mum? Everything okay?"
There was a pause. Then—"Can you talk?"
Panic fluttered in my chest like a trapped bird. "Yeah. I'm listening."
She sighed heavily. "It's your father. He's in the hospital. He collapsed earlier this evening."
"What?!" My hand trembled. The laughter and music behind me became muffled background noise.
"He's stable now, but… I wanted to let you know.
Your sister might have to travel home for a bit, and well, we just thought you should hear it from us before it gets around."
I swallowed hard, heart pounding. "Thanks for telling me. Is there anything I can do?"
"Just pray, sweetheart. That's all for now."
We hung up.
Back Inside – Tension Among the Joy
I re-entered the room slowly, the dim lights now feeling too bright.
My smile felt forced as Daniel looked at me, concern immediately painting his expression.
"Everything okay?"
Everyone paused what they were doing.
"Uh… I just got a call from home," I said quietly. "My dad's in the hospital. It's serious."
The room stilled.
Saraph reached for my hand instinctively, and Daniel stood up, guiding me gently to sit beside him.
"Do you want to call off tonight?" he asked, voice low, respectful.
I shook my head slowly. "No. He's stable. I just… I need a moment."
The group didn't hesitate; they toned everything down immediately. Jordan switched the music to soft acoustic.
Saraph brought over warm tea instead of drinks.
Caleb even offered me a hoodie over my hoodie.
"No offense, but you look like you need triple comfort," he said, earning a soft laugh from me.
Daniel leaned in, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. "We can pause the celebration.
Or move it to another night."
I leaned into him, whispering, "No. Tonight still matters. Just… maybe not too loud.
And no more charades from Saraph, please."
"I heard that!" she called out with a sniffle, though she was smiling again.
Later That Night – Heartfelt Closeness
As the night wore on, the mood softened.
We played chill card games, shared our favorite childhood memories, and even talked about what we'd do after college.
It was warm and intimate, unexpectedly meaningful.
Daniel and I sat quietly for a bit, my hand resting on his chest as we lay on the couch, the candle still burning low.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
"Yeah," I murmured. "Thanks for making it easier… for holding the space without making it heavy."
He kissed the top of my head. "That's what love is, right? Holding space."
"You're getting poetic again."
"Shut up. I'm having a moment," he said, grinning.
I chuckled, and just like that, the worry lessened. Not gone, but held, gently, like the way Daniel had me.
Departures, Decisions, and the Ride Ahead
The next morning on campus came with a strange mix of exhaustion and clarity.
I'd barely slept the night before.
My dad's condition was still stable, but my mind kept drifting to home, my dad, the worry in my mother's voice, and the distance that suddenly felt too wide.
Yet, the rhythm of school life didn't pause.
Students buzzed through the corridors, prepping for the last of the week's lectures.
I moved through it all like a shadow until a surprising announcement in class snapped me out of my spiral.
Professor Liam, a respected and often reserved faculty member, walked in with a folder and a gleam of something unreadable in his eyes.
"Before we begin," he said, clearing his throat, "I want to make a quick announcement."
Everyone looked up, half-curious, half-sleep-deprived.
"There's an opportunity for two students to represent our department in an academic conference next month.
It'll involve a presentation, travel, and mentorship under the head of faculty." He paused.
"We'll be selecting based on performance and leadership this last term."
I felt a light nudge at my side, Daniel, ever so subtle.
I glanced over and saw him mouth, "That's you."
I gave him a half-smile. It was the kind of thing I'd dream of. But right now, my head wasn't in it.
When the class ended, I walked straight to the staff block and met with Professor Mensah privately.
I expressed interest in the opportunity after all,
I couldn't afford to let moments like this pass me by, but I also asked for a few days' permission.
"I need to travel to see my family, sir. There's a situation back home."
He observed me quietly for a few seconds before nodding.
"You've earned the time, Nuella," he said.
"And the spot in the conference, it's yours if you still want it when you return."
My heart thudded.
I wasn't expecting that level of belief from him.
I thanked him with every ounce of sincerity I had and left the office, emotions quietly brewing under the surface.
Packing, Promises, and Quiet Goodbyes
Later that afternoon, Saraph helped me pack. She was unusually gentle, no teasing, no dramatic antics, just a quiet presence.
She folded my clothes with practiced ease while I moved about, trying not to look like I was falling apart inside.
"I added extra socks," she said, zipping up the bag. "You always forget socks."
I smiled faintly. "You know me too well."
"That's the job." She paused, then sat beside me.
"I know your mind's doing cartwheels, but take the break. Clear your head.
Be with your dad. You don't have to carry everything at once."
I leaned into her, resting my head on her shoulder. "Thank you."
"Anytime."
Just then, Daniel texted: Outside. Ready when you are.
I turned to Saraph. "Guess it's time."
She walked with me downstairs, helped place my bag in Daniel's car, then hugged me long and tight.
"If he gets on your nerves during the trip, text me the word 'cabbage,'" she whispered into my ear.
I laughed. "Got it."
The Drive – Miles and Meaning
Daniel opened the passenger door for me like he always did, effortlessly sweet.
As I settled in, he glanced over with a soft smile.
"Seatbelt?"
I clicked it into place. "Bossy."
"Responsible," he corrected, starting the engine.
The drive started in easy silence. The road stretched ahead, dotted with green fields and the occasional roadside hawker.
Daniel turned the music low, just enough to soften the air.
"I'm glad you're letting me come with you," he said after a while.
"I'm glad you offered."
He reached for my hand and laced his fingers through mine, keeping one eye on the road.
"I know you don't say much when you're overwhelmed," he added gently.
"But I hope you know you don't have to handle this alone."
I looked at him, the boy who once nearly lost me, the boy I'd fought with and forgiven.
The boy who'd stayed.
"Thank you," I said softly. "I'm scared. And tired. And also a little embarrassed at how vulnerable I feel."
"I get it." He glanced at me. "But vulnerability's not weakness.
If anything, it makes you even more… remarkable."
I smiled. "You're going to make me cry before we hit the toll booth."
"Then I'm doing something right," he said with a chuckle.
End of the Road For Now
We arrived at a quiet inn not too far from my town just before dusk.
Daniel insisted on carrying the bag. The sky was painted in gold and soft gray.
That night, we sat on a wooden bench outside, drinking warm sachet Milo and listening to the sounds of the countryside.
No distractions. Just space.
"I'm here for however long you need me," Daniel said, looking ahead, not pressing.
I leaned my head on his shoulder, exhaling for the first time all day.
"I know. And I'll always remember that."
"A Place Between Words and Silence"
The hospital room was cold, yet oddly comforting.
My father lay on the bed, eyes closed, looking far smaller than I remembered him.
The steady beep of the monitor beside him was the only sound, keeping time with the quiet tension sitting heavily in the air.
Daniel stood beside me, his hand brushing mine occasionally, not to hold, but to let me know he was there.
Constant, present, steady.
When the doctor finally walked in, clipboard in hand and a warm smile stretched across his tired face, I let out the breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
"He's going to be okay," the doctor said softly.
"Just exhausted and dehydrated. He'll need a few days to rest, but he can be discharged soon."
Relief washed over me like a wave.
I turned to Daniel, eyes misted with gratitude, and he gave a small nod, as if to say, See? You're not alone in this.
Back at home, I busied myself in the kitchen while Daniel drove my parents back.
The scent of garlic and onions wafted in the air as I stirred the pot, letting the rhythm of cooking ground me.
It was the one thing that still felt normal, familiar.
Dinner was set. Plates, glass, and warm food are waiting.
We all gathered at the table, my father looking pale but more himself, my mother attentive, and my brother already sneaking pieces of meat before I could swat his hand away.
Daniel sat beside me, quietly watching the family dynamic unfold like a film he was still trying to make sense of.
As we ate, the conversation drifted into more comfortable waters, updates on my sister's job, a joke about the burnt toast from breakfast, and a memory of me falling asleep during family prayers.
Then, suddenly, the air shifted.
My mom turned to Daniel, her tone curious but gentle.
"Daniel, thank you for everything today.
You've been such a nice guy… but if I may ask, what are you two? Are you… her boyfriend?"
I froze, my spoon suspended mid-air.
The table stilled.
Before I could open my mouth, my sister jumped in, smirking, "Obviously, Mom. Can't you see they are? Do you need a slideshow or"
"Can you not talk for once?" I cut in sharply, flushing.
Then I inhaled and finally said it. "Yes, Mom. Dad. Daniel is… he's my boyfriend."
There was a pause. Thick. Long. And then, to my surprise, my father spoke calmly.
"You're a nice boy," he said, looking directly at Daniel. "Gentle. Respectful."
I nearly smiled.
"But, Nuella," he continued, turning to me with that familiar stern gaze, "I didn't send you to school to date boys.
Especially not in your final year. You should be focused."
My heart dropped.
Before I could respond, my mother stepped in.
"Nuella is grown now," she said firmly. "We have to allow her to make her own decisions.
She's always been responsible. She's sacrificed a lot for this family. Let's not be hard on her."
My father turned toward her, voice rising. "Allow her?
Have you forgotten the chances we gave her before?
The mess she caused when she was younger?"
"I haven't forgotten," my mom replied. "But it's in the past now.
Can we move on? She's not a child anymore, and you can't keep dictating her every move."
I couldn't stay silent. "Dad… I understand. And I'm sorry for everything.
I never meant to disappoint you. But the doctor said you need rest, less stress, remember?" My voice cracked at the end.
He looked at me, and his eyes were no longer stern, just sad.
"Can't you be like your sister?"
That one sentence shattered everything inside me.
I stared at my food, appetite gone, the warmth of the meal now cold on my tongue.
Slowly, I set the spoon down, stood, and walked out of the dining table.
I slammed the bedroom door behind me, sinking onto the bed like the weight of my father's words had physically pushed me down.
Maybe bringing Daniel was a mistake, I whispered to myself.
I pulled my knees up, burying my face in them, letting the tears flow silently.
I hated crying, especially like this, when the ache wasn't just from pain, but from being misunderstood, compared, and dismissed.
"Behind Closed Doors"
The house was quiet, but heavy with unspoken tension.
Dinner had ended, or rather, paused on a bitter note.
My appetite had vanished the moment Dad looked at me with those tired, disappointed eyes and said what he did.
"Can't you be like your sister?"
Of all things, that comparison struck deeper than I'd ever expected.
It was more than a question; it was a quiet dismissal.
A reminder that, despite everything I'd done to make my family proud, my choices still felt like shortcomings in his eyes.
I could feel everyone's eyes on me, Daniel's concerned gaze, my mom's helpless stare, even my brother's silence for once.
"Maybe bringing Daniel was a mistake," I whispered to myself, hugging my knees to my chest.
He had been nothing but kind and supportive, even through awkward family moments, driving my parents home, and smiling even when the atmosphere got tense.
But now, I regret dragging him into this. Into the mess I thought I'd buried years ago.
A knock sounded on the door, soft, hesitant. It was my mom.
"My baby, please open the door. You haven't eaten. Please just come out and eat a little."
Her voice was warm, pleading, but I couldn't. I wasn't ready. Not yet.
"Mom, please," I called back, voice breaking, "I just want to be alone."
Silence. Then her quiet steps faded down the hallway.
Seconds passed. Then, another knock. This one is more familiar.
"Nuella?" Daniel's voice came through, gentle but teasing.
"Come on, open up. If Saraph finds out you skipped dinner and cried, she's going to have both our heads."
A shaky laugh nearly escaped me.
He always knew how to sneak in humor, even when my world was tilting off balance.
"Please?" he added, softer this time.
I could hear him turn to my mom just outside. "Mom, would you mind if I try giving it to her myself? She might eat if I'm there."
"Of course, son. Thank you," my mom whispered back. I heard her footsteps retreat again.
"Nuella," Daniel said, the warmth returning to his voice.
"I've got dinner. I'll even feed you if you make me."
I got up slowly and turned the lock, then opened the door just a crack.
There he was, holding a tray of food and wearing the same soft expression I'd fallen for.
His brows were slightly furrowed, eyes were dimmed with concern.
"Hey," he said, stepping in cautiously.
I backed up and sat on the edge of the bed. He placed the tray on the desk and knelt in front of me, taking both my hands in his.
"I know this isn't easy. I know hearing that from your dad hurt."
His thumbs brushed over my knuckles. "But you don't have to carry it alone."
I looked away, blinking back tears.
"Maybe I should've just stayed back at school. I didn't want you to see this side of things."
He gently turned my face to meet his.
"Nuella… there's no side of you I don't want to see.
I came because I wanted to be here for you.
That includes the messy, complicated, painful moments too."
I stared at him. "But what if I'm not enough? What if I keep disappointing him?"
Daniel shook his head. "You are more than enough.
You've held yourself together through everything.
You've given up more than people even know." He paused.
"And your mom sees it. Your brother does too. Eventually, your dad will have to open his eyes."
A tear finally slipped down my cheek, and Daniel wiped it away with his thumb.
"You're allowed to be hurt, but don't let it make you question your worth."
The room was quiet again this time, with shared pain and quiet comfort.
Then he reached for the tray and placed it in front of me.
"Now, you're going to eat.
Because I didn't drive all the way here to watch you starve yourself on top of everything else," he said, trying to lighten the moment.
I smiled weakly. "You're ridiculous."
"And yet, you love me for it."
We sat in silence for a while, I nibbling slowly, he watching like he'd won a small victory.
I leaned my head on his shoulder. "Thank you… for not walking away."
He kissed the top of my head. "Always."
Even in the middle of family wounds, old scars, and quiet arguments… I knew I wasn't alone. Not anymore.
A few moments later, a gentle knock broke the silence.
"My baby," it was my mom and sister's voice, soft and filled with worry. "Please open the door.
I opened it, just a little.
Enough for them to see my face.
She didn't say anything. Just looked at me.
Then, slowly and gently, she held up my hand.
I'm sorry for everything Dad said. You know I love you no matter what. With time, Dad would come around, she whispered...
She wrapped me up tightly in her embrace, the silence between us saying more than any words ever could.
"I'm here," she whispered into my hair. "Always."
And somehow, in the safety of that moment, everything felt just a little less broken.