White Heart

White Heart Chapter Four: Bold Steps🌸

Few months left for Alisha to be done with school. She managed to sustain herself,paid for the materials she needed and she was coping well with her studies and on several occasions,Kamil dropped her off. Some days,he gave her money to order a ride.

Alisha moved out of the diner and got her own place which wasn't far from kamil's but her job there remained.

Alisha heard her phone ring. "Oh it's Kamil" she picked "hey child, wanna go for a walk,you don't have lectures today right and I'm bored", "sure why not. I'll be at your place in ten minutes" she replied. "Okay I'll be expecting you".

Alisha couldn't help but smile as she got ready to head to Kamil's place. She had grown accustomed to their daily interactions and had started to feel a certain comfort level with him.

As she walked to his place, she couldn't help but wonder if Kamil felt something more for her than just friendship. She had tried to brush off the idea before, but now it seemed like a possibility she couldn't ignore.

When she arrived at his place, Kamil was already waiting outside, looking handsome and charming in his casual attire. "Hey, you look lovely today," he said with a smile, as he gestured for her to join him on the walk.

Alisha felt her heart skip a beat at the compliment, but she tried to play it cool. "Thanks, I just threw something on," she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

As they strolled through the neighborhood, the conversation flowed easily, and Alisha found herself laughing and feeling more at ease with Kamil than she has ever been. She couldn't help but wonder if this was the start of something special, something that went beyond friendship.

"Isha, when do you plan to call your parents,it's been a while you know,I'm sure they miss you" Kamil said this time facing her. "I'll call them but not now,if I call them now they'll try convincing me to come home. I like it here. I'm old enough and I have you so I'm fine" she replied feeling a bit upset that he asked. "It's none of his business"

kamil's countenance changed. "Oh okay"

"I'm sorry Kamil. I didn't mean to sound harsh. it's just...... it's complicated" Alisha replied feeling bad for how she responded to his harmless question.

"It's fine,I understand. Family can be a bit tricky" he replied

They continued their stroll. "Um Lisha, I'll send you some money later tomorrow" Kamil said out of the blues " what for" Alisha replied. The surprise evident in her tone.

"Just because I want to," Kamil said, too quickly. "Don’t overthink it, Isha. Friends help friends, right?"

Alisha nodded, but the word ‘friends’ felt heavier than before.

The walk went quiet after that. The easy laughter was gone, replaced by the sound of their shoes on the pavement. Kamil kept glancing at her like he was waiting for her to say thank you, or to argue, or something.

When they reached the corner near the diner, he stopped. "I’ll send it first thing tomorrow. Don’t stress about rent this month."

Alisha crossed her arms. "Kamil, I didn’t ask for rent help. I’ve been managing."

"I know you have," he said, stepping closer. "But you don’t have to do everything alone. That’s what I’m here for."

Alisha forced a small smile. "I appreciate it, but I’m good. Really."

Kamil’s smile didn’t reach his eyes this time. "Suit yourself, Lisha. Just know the offer stands. A real friend wouldn’t let you struggle when they can help."

Alisha watched him walk away, hands in his pockets....

The sound of an alert came in. $75.

She didn’t have to check the sender. Obviously it’s from Kamil. And in that split second before her thumb even moved, irritation rose in her chest. Not because of the money itself, but because of what the money meant.

To her, the $75 didn’t read like a gift or a casual offer. It read like an invoice for his presence. Like he felt entitled to provide for her. Entitled to decide when she needed help, how much, and what strings came attached.

There’s a difference between someone who gives and someone who keeps score. A gift arrives without expectation. It says “I saw you.” This alert said “I’ve got you,” and that was the problem. Because “I’ve got you” only works if she asked to be held.

She felt the weight of it immediately. The assumption that her life had a $75 hole in it, and that he was the one meant to fill it. That her choices, her independence, her own ability to handle things were all secondary to his role as provider. He wasn’t asking what she needed. He was telling her what she lacked.

So she stared at the notification a little longer. Irritated, yes, but also tired.

Alisha pulled the duvet up to her chin, but the weight wasn’t from the fabric. It was from those 6 words looping in her head.

I have you so I’m fine.

Why did she say that? Why did it slip out like that, soft and trusting, like he was a safety net she’d tested and approved?

She replayed the walk. Kamil asking about her parents. Her chest tightening. The fear of him pushing her back home to people who’d never understood why she left the in the first place. So she’d grabbed the nearest shield. -I have you-

Not because she meant it as a promise. But because in that second, Kamil felt like proof that she wasn’t alone . Proof that leaving home hadn’t been stupid. Proof that someone saw her.

And now he’d taken it literally. Filed it. Cashed it.

Alisha sat up, hugging her knees. She thought about the diner — sleeping in the back room, counting tips in secret, learning how to say “no” to customers who wanted more than food. She’d built this life coin by coin. Every textbook, every pot of rice she cooked in her new small kitchen, every bus fare she saved… that was her. Not him.

So when did “I have you” stop meaning “you make me laugh on bad days” and start meaning “you get to decide my rent”?

Her phone buzzed again on the nightstand. She didn’t look. She already knew it was him.

Alisha whispered into the dark: “I was fine before you. I’ll be fine after you.”

Saying it out loud didn’t make her believe it yet. But it was a start. A c***k in the guilt he’d poured over her.

She reached for her notebook instead of her phone. The one she used for school notes and budget lists. At the top of a fresh page she wrote, in shaky capital letters: *MY PLAN. NO ONE ELSE’S.*

Under it she listed:

1. Return the 75 Dollar, every dime

2. Stop fast replies for any guy especially "K"

3. Stop walking him home. Stop “Hey child” texts after 8pm.

4. Call her mum. Not to go back. Just to prove she could.

Her hand stopped at number 4. That one scared her most. Not Kamil. Her own mother.

She’d been brave enough to leave home. She could be brave enough to take back those 6 words.

She typed one text. Deleted it. Typed again.

...First, she had to believe she was allowed to.

Her thumb hovered. Then pressed send.

*Alisha: We need to talk. Not about money. About boundaries.*

The little “Delivered” appeared. Then “Read.”

No typing dots. No reply.

Silence.

Kamil saw it. And chose nothing.

That nothing was louder than the $75 alert.

Alisha set the phone face-down on the table like it might burn her. Her chest felt tight, then weirdly light. She’d done the scary part. She’d named it. _Boundaries._ Not a request for more money. Not an apology. Just a line drawn in the open.

Minutes passed. The room stayed quiet except for the fridge humming.

Part of her wanted to unsend it. To text “sorry, forget it.” The old reflex. Number 4 scared her most - not Kamil, but her own mother. The voice in her head that said “good girls don’t make waves.”

But she didn’t type again.

Instead she stood up, walked to the window, and pressed her palm against the glass. Cold. Real.

She wasn’t waiting for Kamil’s reply anymore. She was waiting for herself to believe the next part: that a boundary still counts even if no one claps for it.

Her phone buzzed once. Not a text. Just a spam notification.

She laughed, short and surprised. Maybe this was what bravery felt like - not a big speech, but sending 9 words and living in the quiet after.

Number 4 was still there. But for the first time, it looked smaller than her.