Kai arrived at the university twenty minutes early, carrying a folder thick enough to suggest he had prepared for a trial rather than an academic meeting.
Ethan looked at it and whistled.
“Did you bring evidence or a body?”
“Both. Yours, if you keep talking.”
“Your threats are becoming repetitive.”
“And yet you continue giving me reasons to use them.”
Ethan smiled, but his expression became serious as they approached the administrative building. “You ready?”
Kai glanced at the folder in his hands.
“No.”
“Good. People who claim they’re ready usually forget something important.”
Kai gave him a sideways look. “Was that supposed to comfort me?”
“I’m experimenting.”
“Stop experimenting.”
They reached the student affairs office shortly before the scheduled meeting. Professor Miller was already waiting outside, reviewing a document on his tablet.
His gaze moved from Kai to Ethan.
“Mr. Miller,” Kai greeted.
“Professor,” Ethan corrected quietly.
Professor Miller looked at Ethan. “You’re not attending the meeting.”
Ethan raised both hands. “I’m only here for moral support.”
“Then provide it from outside.”
“Of course, Professor.”
Kai almost smiled.
Professor Miller turned to him. “Have you brought the additional documents?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. The committee has reviewed your initial submission, but they need clarification regarding your attendance, employment schedule, and the effect of your family circumstances on your academic responsibilities.”
“I understand.”
“Remember that the purpose of this meeting is not to punish you. They need to determine whether your circumstances qualify for an accommodation under university policy.”
Kai nodded.
The words were reassuring in theory.
In practice, his scholarship and education were still balanced on a decision made by people who knew his circumstances only through documents.
Professor Miller opened the door.
“Come in.”
The meeting room was colder than necessary. Three committee members sat behind a long table, with printed copies of his appeal arranged before them.
Kai took the chair opposite them.
The woman in the center introduced herself as Dr. Helen Grant, the chair of the academic review committee. To her right sat the scholarship coordinator, and to her left sat an administrator from the faculty.
Dr. Grant folded her hands.
“Mr. Anderson, your academic performance is exceptional. Your examination results and practical evaluations are consistently strong.”
Kai remained silent.
“However, your attendance record has fallen below the required standard. We understand that you have been dealing with a family medical situation and financial difficulties. We need to establish whether you can continue meeting the demands of the program.”
“I can,” Kai said.
The scholarship coordinator glanced at his file. “Your attendance suggests otherwise.”
“My attendance reflects the hours I’ve had to spend working and caring for my father.”
“We recognize that. But medicine is a demanding course. Clinical training cannot always be completed independently.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then what is your plan?”
Kai looked at the documents in front of him.
“My work hours were recently reduced, though I’m still employed. I’ve submitted confirmation from my employer. I’ve also provided my father’s medical records and the hospital payment documentation. I’m working with the hospital assistance office to manage his treatment costs.”
Dr. Grant studied him. “Are you planning to reduce your employment hours further?”
“If that becomes possible.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
Kai’s fingers tightened beneath the table.
“Then I’ll have to find another arrangement.”
The scholarship coordinator leaned back. “Mr. Anderson, determination is admirable, but determination alone cannot replace attendance.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Kai lifted his gaze.
“Yes. I’m not asking the university to ignore its requirements. I’m asking you to consider the circumstances that caused the absences and allow me the opportunity to meet those requirements going forward.”
The room fell quiet.
Professor Miller, seated slightly behind the committee, looked up from his notes.
Dr. Grant nodded slowly. “That is a reasonable distinction.”
The administrator opened another file. “Your emergency appeal also requests a temporary tuition deferment.”
“Yes.”
“If approved, the deferment would not cancel your outstanding fees. It would only provide additional time for payment.”
“I understand.”
“Your scholarship payment is currently suspended pending this review. If the committee grants the academic accommodation, the scholarship office will conduct a separate assessment.”
Kai had expected the words.
They still landed heavily.
“So even if the attendance issue is resolved, the scholarship is not guaranteed?”
“That is correct.”
Kai nodded once.
It was difficult to remain composed when every answer seemed to open another door he would have to fight through.
Dr. Grant looked at him carefully. “Do you have any additional information you want the committee to consider?”
Kai glanced at Professor Miller.
The professor gave no visible encouragement, but he didn’t look away either.
Kai placed another document on the table.
“This is a summary of my current work schedule, my father’s treatment appointments, and the classes I missed. I’ve also included a proposed schedule showing how I intend to make up the required academic work.”
The scholarship coordinator took the document.
“You prepared this yourself?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve accounted for your clinical sessions?”
“Yes.”
“And your employment?”
“Yes.”
“What about your father’s care?”
Kai paused.
“I’ve spoken with my mother and brother. We’re arranging responsibilities so I won’t be the only person taking him to appointments.”
It wasn’t entirely true yet. They had discussed it, but no final arrangement had been made.
Still, the conversation had begun.
Dr. Grant nodded. “That is important.”
Kai looked down at his hands.
For months, he had treated his family’s problems as if every responsibility had been assigned to him alone. He had assumed that asking others to carry part of the burden meant admitting he was incapable.
But his father’s illness had never belonged to him alone.
Neither had the family’s survival.
The committee continued asking questions for nearly forty minutes. Kai answered each one carefully, refusing to exaggerate his circumstances or apologize for them. When he didn’t know something, he said so. When a document was incomplete, he explained why and offered to submit the missing information.
At the end, Dr. Grant closed the file.
“The committee will issue a preliminary decision within two business days.”
Kai’s pulse jumped. “And the tuition deferment?”
“That request will be reviewed alongside the academic appeal. You should receive an update through the student portal.”
“Thank you.”
The scholarship coordinator added, “In the meantime, you must attend all scheduled classes and practical sessions. Any further unexplained absence could affect the decision.”
“I understand.”
Dr. Grant gave him a final look. “Mr. Anderson, you clearly want to remain in this program. But wanting it is only the first part. You must also allow the people around you to help you maintain it.”
Kai said nothing.
The words were becoming disturbingly familiar.
When he left the room, Ethan immediately stood.
“Well?”
Kai exhaled. “They’ll decide in two days.”
“Did they throw you out?”
“No.”
“Then that’s something.”
“They haven’t approved anything either.”
Ethan’s smile faded. “Right.”
Kai looked at the folder in his hands. “I need to go to the hospital.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“You have class.”
“I have an hour before my next lecture.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know.”
Ethan’s voice was gentle but firm. “I’m coming because I want to. Not because you’re helpless.”
Kai looked at him.
Ethan shrugged. “You can be annoying and independent at the same time. I’ve accepted this about you.”
Kai shook his head, but he didn’t argue.
At the hospital, the assistance officer informed them that the emergency request had been accepted for preliminary processing. The pharmacy had agreed to hold the medication while the physician completed the required authorization.
It was not full approval.
It was not permanent.
But the medication could be released that afternoon under a temporary arrangement.
Kai’s shoulders loosened for the first time in hours.
“Thank you,” he said.
The officer handed him another form. “You’ll need to submit proof of income and the updated treatment plan within three days.”
Kai looked at the form.
Three days.
He almost laughed.
Apparently, the universe had decided that deadlines were a personality trait.
Ethan leaned closer. “You okay?”
Kai nodded. “I’m fine.”
Ethan said nothing.
Kai sighed. “I’m less not fine.”
“That’s progress.”
They collected the medication and returned to his father’s room. His mother was sitting beside the bed, and her face brightened when she saw the medicine in Kai’s hands.
“Were you able to get it?” she asked.
“Under a temporary arrangement.”
She closed her eyes briefly in relief.
His father reached for Kai’s wrist. “You’ve done enough today.”
“I had a university meeting.”
“How did it go?”
“They haven’t made a decision yet.”
His father squeezed his wrist. “Whatever happens, you must continue your studies.”
“I’m trying.”
“No. Listen to me.” His father’s voice was weak but firm. “You cannot let my illness become the end of your life.”
Kai looked away.
His father continued, “I’m not asking you to abandon your family. I’m asking you not to abandon yourself.”
The words struck harder than Kai expected.
He had heard versions of them before, but lately, every person he cared about seemed determined to remind him that he was not the only one responsible for his future.
“I’m not abandoning myself,” he said quietly.
His father smiled. “Then prove it by letting us stand beside you.”
Kai swallowed and nodded.
His phone vibrated.
A message from Adrian.
Adrian: I’m free for a few minutes. How did the meeting go?
Kai glanced at Ethan, who was helping his mother organize the medication instructions.
He stepped into the corridor before calling.
Adrian answered almost immediately.
“Hey.”
The simple word made Kai’s chest ache.
“Hey.”
“How are you?”
“Your favorite question.”
“Your favorite person keeps asking it.”
Kai leaned against the wall. “The meeting is over. They’ll decide within two business days. The scholarship still isn’t guaranteed, and I have more documents to submit.”
“Did they listen to you?”
“Yes.”
“Did they allow you to explain?”
“Yes.”
“Then you did what you could.”
Kai looked at the floor. “They said I need to let people help me.”
Adrian was quiet for a moment.
“Did that upset you?”
“No.”
“Kai.”
Kai sighed. “Maybe a little.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone keeps saying it as though I’ve never thought of it before.”
“Have you?”
Kai hesitated.
Adrian’s voice softened. “You don’t have to answer quickly.”
“I know I can’t do everything alone,” Kai said at last. “I just don’t know how to stop feeling guilty when I can’t.”
There was a pause.
Then Adrian said, “You think accepting help means someone else has paid the price for your failure.”
Kai’s throat tightened.
He had never said it that way.
But Adrian had understood.
“I don’t know,” Kai whispered.
“I think you do.”
Kai closed his eyes.
On the other side of the world, Adrian was probably sitting in a hotel conference room, surrounded by contracts and people waiting for his decisions. Yet he had made space to listen to something Kai had struggled to name.
“I’m scared,” Kai admitted.
“Of the scholarship?”
“Of everything.”
Adrian remained silent.
Kai continued, “If I lose the scholarship, I might not be able to continue. If I can’t continue, all the work I’ve done could disappear. And if I keep working this much, I might not be able to stay in school anyway.”
His voice cracked slightly.
“I keep thinking that if I just work harder, I can fix it. But I’m already working as hard as I can.”
Adrian’s reply was quiet.
“Then perhaps the next step isn’t working harder.”
Kai opened his eyes.
“Don’t say working smarter.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”
“I was going to say that you may need to stop treating every problem as something you must defeat alone.”
Kai let out a shaky breath.
“I hate when you make sense.”
“I’m becoming accustomed to it.”
Kai smiled faintly.
Then Adrian’s voice changed.
“I need to tell you something.”
Kai straightened. “What?”
“The board has given me forty-eight hours to finalize the supplier agreement or return for an emergency executive meeting.”
Kai’s smile disappeared.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I may have to return earlier than expected. Or stay longer if the agreement requires my presence here.”
“You don’t know which?”
“Not yet.”
Kai stared through the corridor window.
There it was again.
Another uncertainty neither of them could control.
“Are you worried?” he asked.
“Yes.”
The honesty surprised him.
“About the company?”
“Yes. And about what happens if the agreement fails.”
Kai tightened his grip on the phone. “You can’t lose everything.”
“I’m aware.”
“And you can’t let them force you into a bad agreement just because they’re impatient.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
A faint smile entered Adrian’s voice. “Was that concern or an order?”
“Both.”
“I’ll treasure it.”
Kai looked down.
For a moment, he wanted to ask Adrian to come home. He wanted to tell him that the distance was becoming unbearable, that he needed him nearby, that the uncertainty was easier to face when Adrian was within reach.
But he knew Adrian couldn’t simply leave because Kai was afraid.
And he didn’t want to become another person demanding that Adrian choose between responsibilities.
So he said, “Whatever happens, tell me.”
“I will.”
“Don’t shut me out because you think you have to handle it alone.”
Adrian was silent.
Then he said, “You’re using my words against me.”
“I’m adapting them.”
“Very effectively.”
Kai lowered his gaze. “I wish I could do more.”
“You are doing more than you think.”
“I’m not in Singapore.”
“You don’t need to be.”
The words settled between them.
Kai had spent so long believing that love required physical presence, immediate solutions, and constant availability.
Maybe it also required trust.
Trust that someone could be far away and still choose you.
Trust that someone could struggle without disappearing.
Trust that neither person had to become smaller for the other to remain.
“Adrian?”
“Yes?”
“I’m glad you called.”
“I’m glad you answered.”
Kai smiled.
A voice sounded in the background on Adrian’s side.
“Mr. Blake, the legal team is ready.”
Adrian exhaled. “I have to go.”
“I know.”
“I’ll message you later.”
“Only if you’re free.”
“I’ll message you when I’m free.”
Kai nodded, though Adrian couldn’t see him.
“Go.”
The call ended.
Kai remained in the corridor, staring at the dark screen.
He still didn’t know whether his scholarship would be restored. He still had more paperwork, another hospital payment deadline, and an uncertain future waiting for him.
But he had walked into the university meeting and defended his right to remain.
He had accepted Ethan’s help.
He had allowed his family to share the burden.
And he had told Adrian the truth without demanding that he abandon his own life.
None of it guaranteed success.
Still, for the first time in weeks, Kai felt that he wasn’t merely reacting to disaster.
He was making choices.
His phone vibrated once more.
Adrian: One more thing.
Kai: What?
Adrian: I’m proud of you.
Kai stared at the message.
His eyes burned.
He typed a reply, erased it, then tried again.
Kai: I know.
A moment later, he added:
Kai: I’m proud of you too.
This time, Adrian took longer to respond.
Adrian: That means more than you realize.
Kai pressed the phone against his chest.
Then he returned to his father’s room, where his family was waiting.
The future remained uncertain.
But Kai was still here.
And for now, that was something worth fighting for.