Chapter 15 Her Gift
1922 Words
Wallace didn’t just treat me well… he took care of me in ways I wasn’t used to, in ways that didn’t feel loud or excessive, but steady and intentional.
It started with small things.
One morning, I arrived at class earlier than usual, planning to review before the lecture. As I sat down, I noticed a familiar paper cup placed neatly on my desk.
Coffee. Still warm. I frowned slightly, looking around.
“You’re staring at it like it’s suspicious,” Wallace’s voice came from behind me.
I turned. “Did you leave this here?”
He shrugged, sliding into the seat beside me. “You said you had a late night.”
“I didn’t say I needed coffee.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I stared at him for a second before picking up the cup. “You’re assuming a lot.”
“And I’m usually right.”
I took a sip. He was.
Another time, I was in the middle of reviewing for a major exam when my pen suddenly ran out of ink. I clicked it repeatedly, annoyed, before letting out a quiet sigh.
Without a word, Wallace reached into his bag and placed a new one on my notebook.
I blinked. “You carry extra pens now?”
“For you,” he said simply.
I narrowed my eyes slightly. “That’s unnecessary.”
“And yet, you’re using it.”
I didn’t argue. Because I was. He remembered things I didn’t think were important.
Like the fact that I preferred quieter places to study. One afternoon, instead of meeting me at the usual crowded spots, he led me to an empty classroom in a less-used building.
“No one comes here this time of day,” he said, setting his things down.
I looked around. “How do you even find places like this?”
“I look,” he replied. “You concentrate better when it’s quiet.”
I paused.
“You noticed that?”
He gave me a look. “I notice a lot of things about you, Nyra.”
That shouldn’t have affected me as much as it did.
But it did. He made time… even when it was clear he had too much on his plate.
There were days I saw him moving from one responsibility to another, meetings, academic work, obligations I didn’t fully understand. But somehow, he still showed up.
One evening, I found him waiting outside the building after my last class.
“You’re still here?” I asked.
“I said I’d walk you back.”
“You also said you had something to attend.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“It’s done.”
I studied him for a moment. “You didn’t have to wait.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you?”
He looked at me like the answer was obvious. “Because I wanted to.”
Simple.
Direct.
No hesitation.
He protected my space but never made me feel small.
There was a moment in the cafeteria when a group of students at the next table started speaking a little too loudly, their comments not entirely subtle.
I felt it.
That familiar shift.
But before I could react, Wallace spoke, his tone calm, but carrying just enough weight.
“If you have something to say,” he said without looking at them, “say it properly.”
The table went silent. Completely. He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t escalate it. He just… ended it.
Then he looked back at me, his expression softer. “Ignore them.”
“I was going to,” I replied.
“I know.”
There was no condescension in it. No implication that I couldn’t handle myself. Just… support. And that made all the difference.
He supported my goals, without trying to control them.
When I told him about a potential academic opportunity that required extra hours and more effort, I expected resistance. Or at least concern.
Instead, he nodded.
“Then do it,” he said.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“What else do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Something about it being too much?”
“If it was too much for you, you wouldn’t consider it,” he replied. “You don’t take risks you can’t handle.”
I stared at him for a moment.
“You really think that?”
“I know that.”
That kind of trust… it stayed with me. And yes… he treated me like I am the most important person in his life.
Like I wasn’t just someone he chose once, but someone he continued choosing.
Every day, there were no grand declarations. No unnecessary displays. Just consistency. Presence. Care.
And that, somehow, meant more than anything else. His friends changed too.
At first, their interactions with me were careful… measured, like they weren’t sure where the line was. But over time, that hesitation disappeared.
“Nyra, you’re coming with us later, right?” one of them asked casually one afternoon.
I blinked. “Coming where?”
“Don’t tell me he didn’t tell you,” another one said, glancing at Wallace.
“I didn’t,” Wallace replied calmly.
“You’re unbelievable,” his friend muttered before turning back to me. “We’re grabbing dinner. You’re invited.”
I looked at Wallace.
He just shrugged slightly. “It’s up to you.”
Not deciding for me. Not assuming. Just… letting me choose. And I did.
After that, it became normal.
Conversations were easier. Laughter came naturally. They didn’t treat me like an outsider anymore.
They treated me like I belonged. Even the rest of the university shifted again. But this time, it felt different.
There was less curiosity. Less judgment. More… acceptance.
People spoke to me normally now. Not overly cautious, not overly impressed. Just… normal.
And for someone like me, that was enough. For the first time in a long while, I felt secure. Not just in my place at the university.
But in something else entirely. Something I didn’t have to fight for every second. Something that didn’t feel temporary. And that… that was new for me.
That evening, just as I was about to settle into reviewing my notes, my phone buzzed on the table. I glanced at the screen and instantly smiled.
Lovena.
I answered without hesitation. “Hey.”
“Finally,” she said dramatically. “Miss Busy University Girl decides to remember she has a best friend.”
I let out a small laugh, leaning back in my chair. “I’ve been busy. You know that.”
“Busy being smart or busy being in love?” she teased.
I rolled my eyes, even though she couldn’t see me. “Both.”
“Wow,” she gasped. “Listen to you. That’s new.”
I shook my head, still smiling. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re avoiding the topic,” she shot back. “So? How is he?”
I hesitated for a second, but only a second.
“He’s… good,” I said, softer this time. “Better than I expected.”
“Better?” she repeated. “You mean the rich, arrogant guy you used to complain about?”
“Yes, that one.”
“And now?”
I glanced at my desk, at the pen he had given me earlier, still resting beside my notebook.
“Now he’s different,” I admitted. “He’s trying. Actually trying.”
Lovena hummed thoughtfully. “And you like him.”
It wasn’t even a question.
I sighed quietly. “Yeah.”
There was a brief pause on the other end… then a small, knowing laugh.
“I knew it.”
“Of course you did,” I muttered.
“So, when do I meet him?” she asked immediately.
“Let’s not rush things,” I said quickly.
“Too late. I’m already judging him.”
I shook my head, amused, before something suddenly crossed my mind.
“Oh,” I said, straightening slightly. “Next week is his birthday.”
“That’s fast,” she replied. “What are you getting him?”
I went quiet. Because that was the problem.
“I… don’t know,” I admitted. “I haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Why?” she asked. “You’re good with thoughtful stuff.”
“I know,” I said, exhaling softly. “But it’s different this time.”
“How?”
“He can literally buy anything he wants,” I explained. “Whatever I give him might just feel… small.”
Lovena was silent for a moment. Then…
“Well,” she said slowly, her tone suddenly shifting into something mischievous, “you can give him something he can’t buy.”
I frowned slightly. “What does that mean?”
There was a pause. Then she said it.
“You.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You,” she repeated, completely unfazed. “You’re the best gift he could get.”
My grip on the phone tightened. “Lovena–”
“I’m serious,” she cut in. “Think about it. He already has everything. What matters to him isn’t things… it’s you.”
I didn’t respond immediately.
Because my mind had already started connecting things I wasn’t prepared to think about.
“He likes you,” she continued. “Not your background, not what you can give him materially. You.”
“I know that,” I said quickly, my voice lower now.
“Then give him something meaningful,” she pressed. “Something that only you can give.”
My heart started beating a little faster.
“Lovena…” I murmured, unsure whether to argue or just process it.
“I’m not saying do anything you’re uncomfortable with,” she added, her tone softening slightly. “But you have to admit… you’ve thought about it.”
I went quiet. Because… I had. Not in a clear, deliberate way.
But in fleeting moments. In the way he looked at me sometimes. In the way he held back, even when it was obvious he wanted more.
There had been chances. Moments where things could have gone further. But I always stopped. And he always respected it.
Always.
“You said he’s been patient, right?” Lovena continued.
“Yes.”
“Then maybe it’s not about pressure,” she said. “Maybe it’s about trust.”
I swallowed slowly. Because now it didn’t sound like a joke anymore.
It sounded like a question. One I didn’t have a quick answer to.
“I don’t know,” I admitted quietly.
“Then think about it,” she said gently this time. “Not because it’s his birthday. Not because I said it. But because you want to.”
I closed my eyes briefly, leaning back against my chair. Because the idea was already there now. Settling. Taking shape.
“Okay,” I said after a moment.
“Okay?” she repeated.
“I’ll think about it,” I clarified.
Lovena let out a soft laugh. “That’s my girl.”
I shook my head, though a small smile formed on my lips. “You’re a bad influence.”
“And yet, I’m always right.”
“Debatable.”
We talked a little longer after that, about the orphanage, about small things I had missed, but my mind wasn’t fully in the conversation anymore.
Because even after we hung up… the thought stayed.
- Writer
