Chapter 2: Threads Cut
1008 Words
“You're cutting my hours?" Aileen blinked, still holding the tray from her shift.
Her manager wouldn't meet her eyes. “It's restructuring, not personal."
“It's a student café."
He sighed. “Orders came from above. I'm just following them."
“From who?"
He shook his head. “Don't ask questions you already know the answer to."
Aileen stepped back, the tray trembling slightly in her grip. “I need this job."
“And I need my license. Look, finish out today. We'll mail the check."
She stood frozen as he walked away.
Behind the counter, someone whispered, “Is that the girl from the Maybach?"
Aileen shoved through the back door and into the alley, breath coming too fast. The cold hit her like honesty. She stared at the cracked pavement until the world stopped spinning.
The texts came in waves.
**Dean Sanderson**: "Please stop by my office. Concerns have been raised regarding your recent conduct."
**Work-Study Coordinator**: "We regret to inform you that your library assignment has been canceled due to internal changes."
**Scholarship Committee**: "We are unable to proceed with your application due to eligibility questions."
Each message was a blow. Each sender gave no explanation.
She dialed Professor Hill, the one who had written her recommendation.
“Professor? It's Aileen."
“Aileen," he said, cautious. “Is something wrong?"
“My scholarship. My jobs. Everything's... falling apart. I don't understand."
A pause.
“I heard something," he said, reluctant. “Rumors. A donor raised concerns. I thought it was a mistake."
“A donor?" she echoed. “Who?"
But he'd already lowered his voice. “Listen, Aileen, be careful. Some people—some names—you don't want to challenge."
He hung up.
She stared at her phone.
Then she called James.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Did you do this?"
A breath. “Aileen—"
“I asked for help paying tuition. Not this."
“You said you wanted stability."
“I wanted a future. You took my options."
“I cleared your path."
“You torched the whole field."
James didn't reply.
She swallowed hard. “I had interviews. I earned that scholarship."
“I protected you."
“No," she said quietly. “You cornered me."
“I only removed distractions."
“Work isn't a distraction. Poverty isn't a distraction. They're life."
“You're upset."
“Of course I'm upset. You sabotaged me into needing you."
His voice tightened. “I gave you everything. And you're angry because it worked?"
“I'm angry because it wasn't a choice!"
Silence.
Then, softly: “Come to the villa. We'll talk."
“I'm not your employee."
“You're not my equal, either."
Her breath hitched.
“Come tonight," he said. “Or don't come back to school."
The line went dead.
Aileen stood still, cold to her bones. Around her, students laughed, footsteps echoed, the world moved on.
She walked.
Her dorm keycard didn't work.
The desk assistant shrugged. “Your access is suspended. Dean's orders."
She found her roommate, Mina, pacing.
“I don't know what's going on," Mina blurted. “They said you violated housing policy. Something about guests?"
“I didn't—" Aileen stopped. Of course. It didn't matter. James didn't need proof. He needed a reason.
She sat down, slowly, like her body weighed too much.
“Do you need a place to stay?" Mina asked.
Aileen shook her head.
“Are you sure? You can crash with me—"
“I'm fine."
She wasn't.
She packed in twenty minutes.
The Maybach was waiting when she stepped outside.
She didn't speak as she climbed in.
James wasn't inside this time.
Only the driver. Only the silence.
The car rolled forward like a decision.
At the villa, she found him in the lounge. The fireplace was lit. The playlist was soft jazz, like an apology in disguise.
He stood when she entered. “You came."
“I didn't have a choice."
“I think you did."
“No." Her voice didn't shake. “You made sure I didn't."
He stepped forward. “I didn't mean for it to feel like this."
“How did you mean it to feel?"
“Safe."
She let out a sound between a laugh and a sob. “You destroyed my safety net and then offered your arms. That's not safety. That's strategy."
James exhaled. “Sit. Please."
She didn't move.
“I made mistakes," he said. “But I've been clear. I want you here. With me."
“I was fine before you."
“No," he said, softly now. “You were surviving. You were exhausted. Always working, always running. I watched you kill yourself for a piece of something I could give you in full."
“That's not love."
He looked at her then. Really looked. “What if it is? What if this is all I know?"
She shook her head. “Then you shouldn't be in love with anyone."
He stepped closer. “Stay. Just until graduation. Let me take care of you."
Aileen's silence stretched.
She thought of her scholarship. Her name erased from systems. Her keycard failing. Her meals gone. Her jobs gone. All her scaffolding kicked out from beneath her.
And here he was, arms wide, cage gleaming.
“Two years," she said finally.
James blinked. “What?"
“I'll stay. Until I graduate. After that, we're done."
He nodded slowly. “You'll see. You'll change your mind."
She didn't answer.
Instead, she walked upstairs. The same room. The same bed. The same silence.
She unpacked what little she had. Took a long shower. Put on the blue pajamas he liked.
Then she sat at the desk and opened her laptop.
The cursor blinked in the middle of her unfinished economics paper.
She typed:
> “Freedom is expensive. Sometimes the receipt is your own voice."
Then she hit delete.
She would finish the paper.
Then the next.
Then the next.
Until the day she walked out of here and never came back.
- Writer
