Chapter 8: A Heavy Morning
1225 Words
Stella Graham was glad that her father was taking his medications and that his back pain was slowly reducing so when her alarm went off at 6:30 a.m., a sharp chirping sound that cut through the silence of her room. She blinked awake, groggy but already running through her mental checklist for the day: prep notes for Jacob’s session, double-check the psychology lab readings, and squeeze in a call with Dr. Kim about her scholarship portfolio.
It was supposed to be an ordinary morning.
But as soon as Stella opened her bedroom door, she knew it wasn’t.
Her mother was sitting hunched over on the living room couch, one hand pressed against her forehead, the other gripping the armrest for support. Her skin was pale, her lips dry, and when she lifted her head to look at Stella, her eyes seemed dulled by exhaustion.
“Mom?” Stella hurried forward, panic rising in her chest. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Her mother tried to smile, but it came out weak. “It’s nothing, sweetheart. Just a headache. Maybe the flu.”
Stella crouched beside her, gently touching her mother’s wrist. The skin was warm—too warm. “This isn’t just a headache. You’re burning up.”
Her mother shook her head. “I’ll be fine. Don’t fuss. You’ve got your tutoring session this morning. I don’t want you worrying about me.”
But Stella wasn’t hearing any of it. She had seen her mother push through pain before, brushing off every ache or fatigue as “just tiredness.” But this—this was different. She could see it in the way her mother struggled to breathe, in the trembling of her fingers.
“You’re going to the hospital,” Stella said firmly, already reaching for her bag and jacket.
Her mother’s protest came weak and half-hearted. “We can’t afford—”
“We’ll figure it out,” Stella cut her off. “Right now, I need you safe.”
*
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and coffee, a strange blend of cleanliness and fatigue. Stella half-carried, half-guided her mother through the sliding doors of the emergency wing, her heart pounding as she explained the symptoms to the receptionist. Within minutes, a nurse appeared with a wheelchair, whisking her mother down the hall.
Stella followed, clutching her bag tightly, trying to steady her breathing. She hated hospitals. Not because of the sterile walls or the endless beeping of machines, but because of what they represented—bills, debt, another weight on her family’s already fragile foundation.
After what felt like hours, though it was only twenty minutes, a doctor finally came out to speak with her.
“Your mother is stable,” he said, scanning his clipboard. “It looks like a severe infection that has gone untreated for a while. We’ll need to admit her for IV antibiotics and observation.”
Relief washed over Stella, only to be crushed by the next words.
“You’ll need to settle the initial deposit for admission. Around two hundred dollars.”
Two hundred.
The number hit Stella like a slap. Two hundred dollars might as well have been two thousand.
Her throat tightened. “Can’t… can’t we work out a plan? A payment schedule?”
The doctor gave her a sympathetic look but shook his head. “Hospital policy requires the deposit before admission. I’m sorry.”
Stella forced herself to nod, even as her chest tightened. “I’ll… I’ll figure something out.”
She sat in the waiting area afterward, staring at her hands, her mind spinning. How was she supposed to get the money? She couldn’t ask her father—his pride was as sharp as his limp, and he hated feeling like a burden. She couldn’t ask her professors—they already did too much for her. And her friends… well, Stella had never been the type to ask for help.
Her stomach twisted with frustration. She needed money, and she needed it soon.
*
By 8:15 a.m., Stella forced herself to leave the hospital. Her mother was resting, the nurses assured her. The deposit still loomed, but she couldn’t let her entire life unravel because of it. She had responsibilities. Commitments.
And Jacob Whitaker was one of them.
She hated that the thought of him even crossed her mind while her mother lay sick, but she had no choice. Missing another session wasn’t an option—not when Professor Kim had made it crystal clear that her reputation was on the line. If she wanted her scholarship and grad school recommendation, she had to keep this tutoring arrangement alive, no matter how difficult Jacob was.
As she jogged across campus toward the library, she tried to refocus. She replayed formulas in her head, reviewed the notes she had prepared, and steeled herself for Jacob’s sharp tongue. She wouldn’t let him get under her skin today. She couldn’t afford to.
At least if he showed up, she thought grimly.
*
The library clock read 9:00 a.m. sharp when Stella arrived. She smoothed her blouse, tucked a loose strand of hair back into her ponytail, and made her way to the corner booth where their sessions had been scheduled.
The space was empty.
She blinked, checked her watch again, then the table. No backpack, no books, no hockey player slouched irritably in his chair. Just emptiness.
Her jaw tightened. “Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath.
He had missed their first real session yesterday, and now, today, he hadn’t even bothered to show up? She had dragged herself across campus, with her mother sick in the hospital, and Jacob Whitaker couldn’t be bothered to honor a single commitment?
Stella dropped her binder on the table, the sound sharper than she intended. Her hands trembled with a mix of anger and exhaustion. She was about to pack up and march to Coach Simon’s office to complain when a voice interrupted her.
“Hey. You’re Stella, right?”
She turned.
A tall boy stood a few feet away, broad-shouldered like Jacob but softer in demeanor. His hair was tousled from either practice or carelessness, and his grin was easy, almost charming. He looked like he had just walked out of the hockey rink.
Stella’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
“Paul Landon,” he said, extending a hand. “Jacob’s teammate. And, apparently, your new student.”
Stella stared at him, momentarily speechless.
Her new what?
Paul chuckled at her expression. “Yeah, I know. Shocking, right? Professor Kim signed me up for tutoring with you. Guess I’ll be your second project.”
Stella’s mind reeled. She’d prepared herself for Jacob’s arrogance, his late arrivals, his dismissive attitude. She had not prepared for… this. Another hockey player. Another responsibility. Another potential headache.
She didn’t take Paul’s hand. Instead, she folded her arms, her eyes narrowing further.
“Who the hell are you,” she repeated slowly, “and what are you doing in my tutorial class?”
Her voice carried sharpness, but underneath it was exhaustion, fear, and the weight of everything she had faced that morning.
Paul, however, only grinned wider, as though this was exactly the kind of reaction he had expected.
And Stella realized, with a sinking feeling, that her life had just gotten even more complicated.
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