By eight the next morning, Kai had already received two messages from the university, one from the hospital, and a missed call from his manager. He stared at his phone while standing outside the lecture hall. The first university message reminded him that his attendance review remained pending. The second informed him that the committee meeting had been moved forward by thirty minutes. The hospital message requested another signature. His manager wanted to know whether he could cover an evening shift. Kai locked his phone. “Absolutely not,” he muttered. Ethan, standing beside him, glanced over. “Which one?” “All of them.” “That’s ambitious.” Kai turned toward him. “If you say one more irritating thing before my meeting, I’ll make sure your next practical partner is Daniel.” Ethan’s face fell. “That’s cruel.” “Now you understand the seriousness of the situation.” They entered the building together. Kai had barely taken three steps when his phone rang. This time, the caller was Adrian. Kai answered immediately. “Are you okay?” Adrian didn’t greet him. “Good morning to you too.” “Answer the question.” “I’m fine.” “You sound tired.” “So do you.” “I asked first.” A faint breath came through the phone. “I haven’t slept much.” Kai stopped walking. “Adrian.” “I’m handling it.” “That wasn’t what I asked.” There was a brief silence. “I’m exhausted,” Adrian admitted. Kai’s expression softened, though concern remained in his voice. “Did you eat?” “Yes.” “Real food?” “Yes.” “Did you take your medication?” Another pause. “Adrian.” “I forgot.” Kai closed his eyes. “Of course you did.” “I’ll take it after breakfast.” “No. Take it now if you’re supposed to take it with food, and eat something properly.” “You’re giving me instructions again.” “You’re welcome.” Adrian’s voice lowered. “How is your meeting?” “In less than an hour.” “Are you prepared?” “I have documents, notes, and Ethan.” “Ethan?” “Unfortunately, yes.” Ethan leaned toward the phone. “I can hear you.” “Good,” Kai said. “You can hear how little I care.” Adrian gave a quiet laugh. For a moment, the tension eased. Then Kai asked, “Did you reject the supplier’s terms?” “Yes.” “And?” “The board has called an emergency leadership review.” Kai’s fingers tightened around his phone. “When?” “Tomorrow.” “Are they trying to remove you?” “They’re questioning whether my decision exposed the company to unnecessary risk.” “Did it?” “No.” The answer came without hesitation. Kai looked at the corridor ahead. “Then why do you sound like you’re preparing for war?” “Because I may have to prove that I’m right to people who have already decided I’m wrong.” Kai was quiet. He understood that feeling more than he wanted to. “Adrian?” “Yes?” “Don’t let them make you think that being challenged means you made the wrong decision.” A pause followed. “Is that what you’re afraid of with your university?” Kai looked down. “Maybe.” “You did what you believed was necessary.” “I missed classes.” “You were caring for your father and working to support your family.” “That doesn’t erase the requirements.” “No. But it gives the circumstances meaning.” Kai swallowed. He wanted to believe that circumstances mattered as much as results. He wanted the committee to see him as a student trying to survive difficult conditions, not as an attendance percentage. “I have to go,” he said. “The meeting is coming up.” “I know.” “Try to sleep.” “I will.” “And take your medication.” “Yes, doctor.” Kai’s cheeks warmed slightly. “Don’t call me that.” “Why?” “Because you sound too pleased with yourself.” “I am.” Kai rolled his eyes, though Adrian couldn’t see him. Before ending the call, Adrian said, “Kai.” “What?” “Whatever happens today, don’t let them convince you that you don’t belong there.” Kai’s smile faded. “I’ll try.” “Don’t try. Remember.” The call ended. Ethan was watching him. “What?” “Nothing.” “Then stop looking at me.” “You look different after talking to him.” Kai slipped his phone into his pocket. “I look irritated.” “You look less irritated.” “Your observational skills are terrible.” “Your denial skills are worse.” Kai walked away before Ethan could continue. The committee meeting lasted nearly an hour. This time, the questions were more direct. The university wanted to know whether Kai could meet the demands of the medical program while continuing to work. They asked whether his family had access to alternative support, whether his employment hours could be adjusted, and whether he had considered taking a temporary academic leave. The last question made his stomach twist. “Academic leave?” Kai repeated. Dr. Grant nodded. “It is one option. It would allow you to step away temporarily and return when your circumstances are more stable.” Kai looked at the documents in front of him. “And my scholarship?” “That would need to be reviewed separately.” “Would I lose my place in the program?” “Not necessarily. But your return would depend on the conditions of the leave and the availability of clinical placements.” Kai stared at the table. A temporary leave sounded reasonable when presented in a quiet room by people who weren’t living his life. It could also change everything. He had worked too hard to reach medical school. He had sacrificed sleep, comfort, and opportunities. He had never imagined that his father’s illness and financial struggles might force him to step away. Dr. Grant watched him carefully. “We are not telling you to leave.” “But you’re asking whether I’ve considered it.” “We need to understand all possible options.” Kai took a slow breath. “I’ve considered it,” he said. “But I don’t want to leave.” “Why?” The question was simple. His answer wasn’t. “Because this is what I’ve worked toward. Because I’m capable of doing the work. Because my circumstances are difficult, but they aren’t permanent.” The scholarship coordinator glanced at his file. “You cannot guarantee that.” “No,” Kai said. “I can’t guarantee anything. But if the university removes every opportunity before I have the chance to recover, then my circumstances become permanent because of the decision you make.” Silence settled across the room. Kai’s voice remained steady. “I’m not asking for special treatment. I’m asking for a reasonable opportunity to meet the requirements while managing a situation I didn’t choose.” Professor Miller lowered his gaze, hiding what might have been approval. Dr. Grant folded her hands. “We will consider your statement.” Kai nodded. The committee informed him that they would issue a preliminary decision within twenty-four hours. Until then, he was expected to attend all classes and submit a revised academic recovery plan. When Kai stepped outside, his legs felt strangely weak. Ethan stood from the bench. “How bad?” “They mentioned academic leave.” Ethan’s expression tightened. “Do you want to take it?” “No.” “Then we’ll work on the recovery plan.” Kai looked at him. “You say that as if it’s easy.” “I didn’t say easy. I said we’ll work on it.” Kai studied his friend. “You have your own assignments.” “And you have yours. We can both suffer productively.” Kai laughed despite himself. His phone vibrated. A message from Adrian. Adrian: How did it go? Kai stared at it, then replied: Kai: They mentioned academic leave. The typing indicator appeared almost immediately. Adrian: What do you want? Kai looked at the question. Not What do they want? Not What would be easiest? What do you want? Kai: I want to stay. Adrian: Then we work toward that. Kai’s chest tightened. Kai: You have your own leadership review tomorrow. Adrian: I know. Kai: You can’t solve mine while handling yours. Adrian: I’m not trying to solve yours. I’m asking what you need. Kai leaned against the wall. He wanted to say that he needed money. He wanted to say that he needed Adrian to come home. He wanted to say that he needed certainty, even though he knew neither of them could provide it. Instead, he typed: Kai: I need help organizing the recovery plan. Adrian: Send me what you have. Kai: You’re busy. Adrian: I can read documents while other people talk. Kai: That explains your personality. Adrian: You’re becoming bold. Kai: I was always bold. Adrian: I know. Kai stared at those two words longer than he intended. Then he sent the documents. At the hospital, Kai spent the afternoon completing the remaining forms. The assistance officer informed him that the temporary medication arrangement had been extended, but the subsidy decision would not be finalized until the income verification was complete. Another delay. Another uncertainty. Kai thanked her and returned to his father’s room. His mother was sitting by the window, folding a clean shirt. “I spoke with your manager,” she said. Kai stopped. “Why?” “He called while you were in the assistance office.” “What did he say?” “That you might be able to reduce your evening shifts temporarily if someone covers them.” Kai looked at her. “Who?” His mother folded the shirt carefully. “Me.” Kai stared. “You?” “I spoke with the supervisor at the place where I work. I can take an additional morning shift twice a week.” “Mom, you already work enough.” “So do you.” “That’s different.” She looked at him firmly. “You’ve said that too many times.” Kai fell silent. His mother placed the shirt on the chair. “You are my son. You are not supposed to carry the whole family because you think we will break if you ask for help.” Kai lowered his gaze. “I just don’t want you to get tired.” “I am tired,” she said honestly. “But I would rather be tired while helping you than watch you destroy yourself trying to protect us.” Kai’s throat tightened. His father, who had been resting with his eyes closed, spoke from the bed. “Your mother has been waiting years to win an argument with you.” Kai turned toward him. “You were asleep.” “I was listening.” “Traitor.” His father smiled. Kai sat down beside the bed. For a moment, nobody spoke. Then he said quietly, “I’ll reduce one shift if we can arrange it.” His mother nodded. “That is a start.” It wasn’t surrender. It was cooperation. Kai was beginning to understand the difference. That evening, he received a call from Adrian. The connection was poor, and Adrian’s voice sounded distant. “Can you hear me?” “Barely.” “I’m in the car.” “Your driver must be thrilled that you’re conducting business from the back seat.” “I’m not conducting business.” “Then what are you doing?” “Trying to speak to you.” Kai looked down at his recovery plan spread across the table. “I sent the documents.” “I saw them.” “And?” “You’ve listed every missed session, but you haven’t explained how you’ll make up the clinical hours.” “I need to speak with Professor Miller about that.” “Yes.” “You’re not going to suggest I call someone?” “No.” Kai blinked. “Are you ill?” “I’m respecting your boundaries.” “Terrifying.” Adrian’s laugh was quiet, but it ended quickly. Kai noticed. “Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Adrian was silent for a moment. “Yes.” Kai leaned back in his chair. He had expected Adrian to deny it. Powerful people were often surrounded by the expectation that they should never admit fear. But Adrian had admitted it. “I thought you didn’t get nervous.” “I do.” “You hide it well.” “I’ve had practice.” Kai traced the edge of the paper with his finger. “What happens if the board votes against you?” “I remain CEO unless they formally remove me.” “And if they try?” “Then I respond.” “That sounds like something you say when you don’t want to tell me you’re worried.” Adrian’s breathing was audible through the phone. “I’m worried,” he said. “I’ve built the company for years. I know what a poor decision could cost the employees, the investors, and the people who depend on us.” Kai listened carefully. “But I also know that accepting a bad agreement to avoid conflict could cost more later.” Kai nodded, though Adrian couldn’t see him. “Then you already know what you have to do.” “I know what I believe I should do. That doesn’t mean I know what will happen.” Kai looked at the recovery plan. “Welcome to my world.” Adrian laughed softly. The sound warmed Kai’s chest. Then Adrian said, “There’s something else.” “What?” “If the board challenges me, I may need to stay in Singapore longer.” Kai’s fingers stopped moving. “How long?” “I don’t know.” He had expected that answer. It still hurt. “How long is longer?” “Possibly another week.” Kai looked away from the papers. A week. It was not an eternity. It was not even particularly long. But after everything that had happened, the idea of another week without seeing Adrian felt heavier than it should have. “Okay,” Kai said. Adrian was quiet. “Kai.” “What?” “You don’t have to pretend that doesn’t disappoint you.” Kai swallowed. “I’m disappointed.” “I know.” “I want you to come home.” “I know.” “But I don’t want you to leave just because I want you here.” “I know.” Kai lowered his head. The silence between them was painful but honest. Finally, Adrian said, “I’m trying to protect something important.” “The company?” “Yes.” Kai looked at the phone. “And us?” Adrian answered without hesitation. “Yes. Us too.” Kai closed his eyes. He wanted to believe that both could survive the distance. He wanted to believe that love didn’t always have to lose when life became difficult. “Then don’t disappear,” he said. “I won’t.” “Even if you’re busy.” “I’ll tell you when I’m busy.” “Even if the board meeting goes badly.” “I’ll tell you.” “Even if you’re scared.” Adrian’s voice softened. “Especially then.” Kai pressed his lips together. “Okay.” A notification appeared on his phone while they were still speaking. An email from the university. Kai opened it. His eyes moved across the screen. Then he stopped breathing. “What happened?” Adrian asked. Kai read the message again. Preliminary Academic Decision: Conditional Continuation Approved. His hands began to shake. “Adrian.” “I’m here.” “They’re letting me continue.” The words came out barely above a whisper. Adrian was silent for half a second. Then, “Kai.” “They approved conditional continuation. I have to submit a recovery plan, attend every required session, and complete additional clinical work.” “But you can continue.” Kai covered his mouth with one hand. “Yes.” Adrian exhaled, and Kai could hear the relief in it. “I knew you could.” Kai laughed shakily. “Don’t start.” “I’m not starting anything.” “You’re about to say something inspirational.” “I was going to say I’m proud of you.” Kai’s eyes burned. He looked at the email again. The decision was conditional. His scholarship was still under separate review. His financial problems remained, and the hospital assistance had not been finalized. But he had not been forced to leave. He had been given another opportunity. “I’m still scared,” he admitted. “You’re allowed to be.” “And you might lose your board’s support tomorrow.” “I might.” Kai took a breath. “Then we’ll both have a difficult day.” Adrian’s voice turned warm. “We will.” Kai looked toward the window, where the city lights shimmered against the dark. “Adrian?” “Yes?” “Come back when you can.” “I will.” “Not because I’m asking you to choose me over everything.” “I know.” “Come back because you want to.” Adrian’s response was quiet and certain. “I do.” Kai lowered his eyes. For the first time, he didn’t need to ask whether Adrian meant it. The next day would bring new decisions, new risks, and consequences neither of them could predict. But tonight, Kai had been given permission to remain. And Adrian had chosen to tell him the truth. Neither was a guarantee. Both were reasons to keep going.

The Things We Risk