Ethan
The days following the debate were a blur. The campus was in an uproar. Olivia's bombshell endorsement had made her a folk hero. The student paper ran editorials praising her "unprecedented act of political integrity." My own campaign team was celebrating, but it felt hollow. I was the de facto president-elect, but I was living in her shadow. I was the beneficiary of her sacrifice, and the guilt was a constant, heavy weight.
I tried to talk to her, but she was avoiding me. She didn't answer my texts. She didn't show up to our usual late-night study spots. When I went to her dorm, Mia told me she had gone home for a few days to "decompress." I knew she was hiding. I had won the battle, but I had lost my partner.
The election was a formality. I won in a landslide, with over eighty percent of the vote. The day the results were announced, my father called. For the first time in my life, I heard genuine pride in his voice.
"You did it, son," he said. "You proved you have what it takes. You're a Brooks."
I felt nothing. The victory was as empty as his words. I had his approval, but it meant nothing without Olivia to share it with.
That night, I sat in my room, the official confirmation letter from the university on my desk. I had the scholarship. Dylan's treatment was secure for another year. I should have been celebrating. Instead, I felt a profound sense of wrongness. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
Olivia had said she wanted me to be a leader. And a leader, I realized, didn't accept a victory he hadn't earned. A leader did the right thing, even when it was hard.
I picked up my phone and called my father.
"Dad," I said, my voice firm, devoid of the usual hesitation. "We need to talk. About Dylan."
I told him everything. I told him about the experimental treatment, about how I'd been helping my mom pay for it, about the real reason I had run for president. I laid it all bare, the secrets and the lies. I didn't know what to expect. Anger? Disappointment? A lecture about fiscal irresponsibility?
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. When my father finally spoke, his voice was strained, almost unrecognizable.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice cracking with an emotion I had never heard from him before. "Why did you think you had to do this alone?"
"Because you said…" I started, but he cut me off.
"I know what I said," he said, his voice thick with regret. "I was wrong. I've been… wrong about a lot of things. Your brother's illness… I saw it as a failure. My failure. It was easier to ignore it than to face it." He took a shaky breath. "The money, Ethan. It's not an issue. We will pay for the treatment. We will pay for all of it. He's my son."
I was stunned. It was the breakthrough I had been hoping for, for years. My father was finally stepping up. And it had happened not because I had won, but because I had finally told the truth.
After I hung up, I felt a lightness I hadn't felt in years. The secret was out. The burden was lifted. And I knew exactly what I had to do.
I walked out of my dorm and straight to the student government office. The lights were on. I knew she would be there. She had a meeting with the outgoing president to begin the transition process. She was helping to hand over the power she had given away.
I found her in the president's office, the one she had dreamed of occupying. She was sitting at the large desk, her back to the door, looking out the window at the campus below. She looked small and lonely in the oversized leather chair.
"Olivia," I said softly.
She stiffened at the sound of my voice but didn't turn around. "What are you doing here, Ethan? This is your office now. You should be celebrating."
"I can't," I said, walking towards her. "Because I didn't win. Not really."
I came to stand beside her, looking out the window with her. "I told my father. About everything. About Dylan. He's going to pay for the treatment. All of it."
She finally turned to look at me, her eyes wide with surprise. "Oh, Ethan… that's… that's wonderful."
"Yeah," I said. "It is. And it means I don't need the scholarship anymore."
I took a deep breath. "I'm resigning," I said. "I just submitted my official letter to the Dean's office. I'm stepping down as president-elect."
Her jaw dropped. "What? Ethan, no! You can't. You won."
"I won because you let me win," I said, taking her hands. "And that's not a victory I can live with. There's only one person who deserves this office, Olivia. And it's not me."
"But… what will happen?"
"According to the student government bylaws, if a president-elect resigns before taking office, the position automatically goes to the runner-up," I said, a slow smile spreading across my face. "Congratulations, Madam President."
She stared at me, speechless, her mind clearly racing to process this new, impossible reality. She had tried to sacrifice her dream for me, and now I was giving it back to her.
"You're insane," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek.
"I'm in love with you," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "And I'm not going to be the reason you give up on your dreams. Ever."
I leaned in and kissed her, a kiss that was not about bets or secrets or campaigns. It was a kiss of truth, of sacrifice, and of a love that was bigger than any election.
She was going to be president. And I was going to be the man standing beside her, cheering her on. It was a future neither of us had planned. And it was perfect.