Chapter Four: The Lie That Bought Hope
1328 Words
POV: Juliana Alejandro
She didn’t sleep.
The night came in flashes. Faces in the alley, her aunt’s voice. Nacho’s laugh echoed, faint and out of place. And the number. Fifteen thousand dollars. It throbbed behind her eyes every time she shut them, like a price tag stuck to her life.
By morning, Brighton was pale again, slick with rain. The city always looked half done. Scaffolding on corners that never got finished. Students were hurrying under umbrellas that turned inside out. Sea air clinging to everything like a low warning no one spoke aloud.
Juliana pulled her coat tighter and walked fast. Her boots were already wet.
She entered the university through the back, avoiding the crush of students. The seminar was on the top floor of the oldest building. The halls were too quiet, like they remembered things students never said. Her stomach turned. Not from the class itself, but from who was waiting in it.
She was ten minutes early. Still, she was the last one in.
Professor Leonardo Hargreaves stood at the board, writing in that same sharp, clean hand she had come to expect:
“Silence is the mother of truth.” – Disraeli
He didn’t look up when she slipped in, but she felt it anyway. The air shifted slightly, just enough to feel.
She sat in her usual spot, eyes on the desk like it might hold her steady. Second row, third from the left. Always there. Always invisible.
Today, she felt exposed.
She kept her head down as he opened the session.
“This morning’s discussion,” he said, voice clipped and commanding, “will center around narrative restraint. What an author chooses not to say. What is deliberately withheld? When done well, the silence between lines speaks louder than dialogue.”
He paused. “When done poorly, it becomes a lie.”
Juliana flinched.
She wasn’t sure he meant it that way, maybe the words were for her, maybe the words just slipped out, careless and unplanned. Still, they continued
She kept writing, eyes fixed on the page, but her mind was in all places, assumptions loud, moving about, refusing to settle. She wanted to stand up and walk out.
After class, she waited until the others left. A few students paused to ask questions. He gave brief, sharp answers. He didn’t smile. He never smiled.
When they were alone, she stood.
“Professor Hargreaves,” she said quietly. “May I speak with you?”
He looked up from his satchel, face giving nothing away.
“Is this about last night?”
She paused. “Partly.”
He nodded toward the desk. “Speak.”
She stepped closer.
“I just wanted to say thank you. For saving me from those men,” she said.
“I didn’t do anything extraordinary,” he replied. “Any decent person or good Samaritan would have stepped in.”
She nodded. “Still. Thank you.”
He studied her for a moment. “Are you always out that late?”
She paused. “I work part-time. Several jobs. I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not well provided for,” she said, forcing a smile.
He didn’t laugh. “Neither are there many students here. But you look exhausted.”
She blinked. “I’m managing.”
He leaned back slowly and crossed his arms, watching her.
You missed last week’s tutorial.”
“I know. I’m sorry. One of my shifts got changed.”
“You’re too intelligent to let work sabotage your grades. Are you behind on assignments?”
“No,” she said quickly. “I always turn things in.”
“You do,” he agreed. “And well-written, too. Which means you’re either very good at pretending or you’re just stubborn enough to carry too much without complaint.”
Juliana froze.
She didn’t know have an answer that.
He stood slowly, picking up his coat. “If something is going on, Miss Alejandro, the university has emergency aid programs. Or counselling. You don’t need to burn yourself out alone.”
She looked down.
I have a son with cancer, she wanted to say. I need fifteen thousand dollars. I need time. I need money. I need a miracle. But none of that came out
But she couldn’t say that. She wasn’t ready. Not now.
“I need to get something off my chest, she said softly, “But I… I am finding it difficult to express it. Not to you. Not to anyone.”
His face relaxed. “If it’s not a matter of exigency, I will stay out of it.”
She giggled, bitter and a little breathless.
He tilted his head. “Is it?”
Juliana met his eyes. Her voice came out like a whisper. “It’s close.”
The silence that followed was long and sharp. The space between them felt tight, like something stretched to its limit.
Finally, he said, “You’re a smart student. That’s rare. I’d hate to see it wasted.”
Juliana wanted to cry. Not because of what he said but because it had been so long since anyone looked at her and saw anything other than a burden.
“I won’t waste it,” she said.
He nodded. “Good.”
She turned to leave. At the door, she hesitated.
“There is one thing,” she said without turning back. “If I told you something personal… would you promise not to report it?”
“I’m not your therapist,” he said. “But I’m not cruel either.”
She looked at him over her shoulder. “I have a family emergency back home. It’s serious. And I have to find money. A lot of money. Fast.”
His brow furrowed. “How much?”
“Fifteen thousand dollars.
His face remained impassive.
“And what kind of emergency would need fifteen thousand dollars?”
She swallowed. “My… father. He’s sick. Very sick.”
The lie came fast and heavy before she could stop it. It landed hard, like something dropped between them that couldn’t be picked back up.
Professor Hargreaves was quiet for a long time.
Then: “You’re here on a scholarship. I assume you don’t qualify for financial loans?”
“No.”
“No access to external help?”
“None.”
“And you still come to class. On time. With distinction.”
“I’m trying,” she said. “I’m trying.”
He stared at her for some moments. She couldn’t read his facial expression anymore.
“If you pass your final exams,” he said finally, “and graduate with honors… I’ll give you the money.”
Juliana’s knees nearly gave out.
“What?” she whispered.
He stepped closer. Not too close. Just enough that she felt the weight of his words.
“Not a loan. A gift. No strings attached. But only if you earn it. I don’t reward pity.”
She stared at him.
She could hear her heart palpitating.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything yet.” He grabbed his briefcase. “Just pass your final examinations. And don’t lie again.”
Juliana nodded slowly, throat tightening.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice thick.
He looked at her one last time. “Good day, Miss Alejandro.”
She walked home in bewilderment.
A light shower drifted down, cool against her face.
Fifteen thousand dollars.
He would give it to her.
If she passed her final examination.
If she lied well enough.
When she got home, she locked the door and tried to sleep. She was knackered.
So, instead of sleeplessly tossing and turning, she took out her phone and started flipping through Nacho’s pictures.
And for the first time since the call, she allowed herself to believe…
That maybe she had found her miracle.
Even if it was built on a lie.
- Writer
