Onyx's POV
Even though I had already failed the unit, I still attended my other classes.
I couldn't afford to let everything collapse because of one mistake. If the system was already failing, the least I could do was contain the damage.
Salvage what remained.
But in truth, I absorbed almost nothing the entire day.
Lectures blurred together. Words passed through my ears without being processed. My notebook contained several lines of notes that I did not remember writing. At one point, I had even stared at the same slide for almost ten minutes before realizing the professor had already moved on.
My mind was somewhere else entirely.
It kept circling the same question like a corrupted program stuck in a loop.
What will happen to my future now?
Everything had been planned carefully. Precisely. Every step mapped out like a clean sequence of commands—graduate on time, secure stable employment, support Pa, stabilize our finances.
It was a solid plan.
Efficient.
Logical.
And now, one failed unit had introduced a variable that had never been part of the original calculation.
One error.
One unexpected deviation.
Enough to distort the entire probability model of my future.
Had I been distracted?
My mind supplied the answer immediately.
Yes.
If I was being honest, the variable had a name.
"Love".
Or whatever this complicated emotional anomaly with Jace was supposed to be classified as.
If that element had never entered the equation, I probably would have remained focused on my priorities. I would have kept my routine intact. My academic performance would have stayed stable.
No emotional interference.
No cognitive disruption.
Just results.
I exhaled slowly.
"Onyx," I murmured to myself, staring down at the pavement beneath the waiting shed bench. "Get a hold of yourself. Look at what's happening."
The bus stop was quiet that afternoon. A few students were scattered around the area, some staring at their phones, others listening to music. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the road.
I sat there waiting for the bus that would take me home.
Waiting to face Pa.
Waiting to explain what had happened.
And honestly, that part terrified me more than failing the class itself.
Then suddenly—
A car stopped in front of me.
Honk!
I looked up instinctively.
Was that directed at me?
The car was unfamiliar at first glance. Sleek. Expensive. The kind of vehicle that did not usually stop at public bus sheds unless something had gone terribly wrong with navigation.
The window from the backseat rolled down and someone leaned slightly toward the opening.
"I'm glad I accidentally found you here! Let me give you a ride home, my son."
My brain needed a moment to process the information.
"Ma?"
She was smiling at me.
Her face was perfectly made up, her makeup flawless even under the harsh afternoon light. Around her neck hung a pearl necklace, paired with matching earrings that caught the sunlight each time she moved her head. It wasn't just money, but jewellery had always been her weakness.
The car itself was another clear indicator of her current lifestyle.
Luxury model.
Pristine interior.
Driver in uniform.
The entire arrangement suggested that her new partner was... financially comfortable.
"Come in, Onyx!" she said brightly.
I nodded and stood, walking toward the vehicle before sliding into the back seat and sat beside her.
The interior smelled faintly of leather and expensive perfume.
"I missed you so much, my son," Ma said, turning to me completely "I haven't seen you in a while. I was just heading home after buying something from the mall when I suddenly noticed you at the waiting shed."
She looked genuinely pleased.
As if this encounter had been a lucky coincidence.
"Don't you miss me, Onyx?" she asked.
I smiled.
But I did not answer.
"Before you go home," she continued cheerfully, "do you want to eat somewhere? I'll treat you. Pick anything you like—even the most expensive restaurant. Go!"
"Pa is waiting at home for me," I replied calmly. "We're supposed to eat dinner together. I don't want him to eat alone."
"Oh, just tell him you're with me," she said lightly. "He'll understand."
"I'm not that hungry anyway," I added.
It was easier to decline politely than start an unnecessary debate.
"Alright," she said with a small nod. "But if you change your mind, let me know."
Then she smiled at me again.
"So, how is university? I'm sure you're doing well. You've always been my intelligent and responsible son."
I turned my gaze toward the window.
Outside, buildings passed by slowly as the car moved through traffic.
"I haven't been very responsible lately," I admitted quietly as I looked at her. "I won't be able to graduate on time."
She blinked.
"I failed one class."
Silence settled between us before she pulled me into an embrace—firm, certain, yet somehow unfamiliar.
Her arms wrapped around me as if nothing had changed, but the scent of her told a different story. The perfume was stronger than I remembered, sweeter too, almost overwhelming in its presence. For a moment, I wondered if it had always been like this and I had simply forgotten.
Maybe it was simply because I hadn't been around her for so long.
Memories blur. Scents fade and reshape themselves.
Or maybe it wasn't memory at all—maybe people simply become different versions of who they used to be, and we only notice it when we're close enough to feel the difference again.
"What happened, Onyx?" she asked softly.
She pulled away slightly but kept holding my hand.
"Is something bothering you?"
"I've just been distracted lately," I answered honestly. "I forgot some of my priorities."
She reached up and gently touched my cheek.
"Don't worry, my son," she said softly. "Ma is here to help."
Her smile was gentle.
"I know I have shortcomings as a mother," she continued quietly, "but I promised myself I would do my best to make sure you have a good life."
I looked at her—really looked, holding my gaze steady—but nothing rose to meet the moment. No emotion surfaced, no reaction followed.
I knew she meant what she was saying. I could recognize the sincerity in her voice, the weight behind her words. And yet, they never quite reached me. They lingered somewhere in between, suspended in that quiet space where something is understood, but not felt.
"So," she began carefully, "I was thinking... I know it might be difficult to find good employers if they see your transcript."
The word tightened something in my chest.
She wasn't wrong.
But hearing it spoken aloud made it feel heavier.
"I could refer you to a job at my fiancé's company," she continued gently. "His company is very established. They handle corporate strategy and digital systems for large firms—banks, retail chains, even government offices."
I blinked slowly, the shift in her tone pulling my attention back into focus.
Business.
Corporate structures.
Enterprise-level systems.
The words settled differently this time—clear, structured, familiar—something I could process without hesitation, something that made sense.
"That sounds..." I paused, selecting the most appropriate adjective. "...competitive."
"It is," she admitted with a small smile. "But they're expanding their digital transformation department. They need people who understand systems. Network architecture. Process optimization."
She looked at me knowingly.
"You've always had a knack for this—systems, structure, the kind of work that demands precision. It's your field, the one you've been building toward all this time."
She said it so casually.
As if she wasn't offering to reroute the trajectory of my entire future.
"I don't have corporate experience," I said automatically. "If your fiancé saw that I failed even one unit, he probably wouldn't trust me."
"I know you too well. You have the skill," she replied, her voice steady. "And the knowledge to back it."
Her voice was calm.
"Sometimes that matters more."
I lowered my gaze to our hands, noticing how firmly she held mine—not out of comfort, but with a quiet sense of intent.
This wasn't charity.
It was positioning.
A well-established firm. A powerful reputation. Clients that operated at the highest level.
If I stepped into that environment, my transcript might no longer carry the same weight.
Or at the very least, it wouldn't matter as much.
"I don't want to be hired because of connections," I said carefully.
Ma's expression softened.
"You wouldn't be," she assured me. "You would still go through interviews. Evaluations. The usual process."
Then she added quietly,
"But at least your application wouldn't be filtered out immediately."
Filtered out.
That was the part that hurt.
I exhaled slowly.
"What's the company called?" I asked.
"Viremont Advisory Group."
The name sounded expensive.
Polished.
Untouchable.
"They specialize in corporate restructuring and digital systems integration," she continued. "My fiancé believes strong infrastructure is what keeps businesses from collapsing."
Infrastructure.
Systems.
Optimization.
Strangely enough, it sounded exactly like the kind of environment I would normally aim for.
"If I say yes," I asked quietly, "what would that mean?"
"It means," she said gently, "you don't let one mistake define you."
One mistake.
If only she knew it wasn't just academic.
I swallowed.
"And your fiancé is okay with this?"
"He trusts my judgment," she replied.
That sentence lingered longer than it should have.
Trust.
I nodded slowly.
"I'll think about it."
Ma smiled.
"I'm not pressuring you," she said. "I just don't want you to close doors out of pride."
Pride.
Was that what this was?
Or was it self-preservation?
Because if I stepped into that world—I had the uneasy feeling I wouldn't just be accepting a job.
I would be stepping into something much bigger.
And at the moment...
I had absolutely no idea how big.
"How about this," Ma said lightly, as if the idea had only just occurred to her. "My birthday is coming soon. I'll invite you so you can meet my fiancé. You don't have to be corporate-ready. Just talk to him casually, introduce yourself."
She waved her hand casually.
"Think of it like an interview," she added, smiling faintly. "But... in a more relaxed setting."
I leaned back slightly against the leather seat and exhaled.
Her birthday.
Next week.
The timeline formed in my mind automatically, like a calendar notification I had not agreed to receive but was already being scheduled.
"Onyx," she continued more softly, "please think of this as me trying to gain your trust back."
Her voice changed—less confident now, less polished.
"I know I left our family," she said quietly. "And even if you don't show it in front of me... I can feel that you're different with me now."
She paused.
"More distant than before."
I swallowed.
The conversation had already reached emotional territory I had not prepared responses for.
Everything felt overwhelming at the moment, but I forced myself to remain quiet. Speaking too quickly in situations like this often resulted in saying something... inefficient.
I had to choose my words carefully.
"So," she continued, recovering some of her brightness, "Don't worry about what you'll wear. I'll prepare everything."
I hadn't said yes.
But somehow the event had already been finalized.
Still... if I failed to resolve the issue with my failed unit before the semester ended—if my professor refused to reconsider my grade—then at least this offered an alternative path.
Not ideal.
But viable.
"Oh, by the way, Onyx," Ma added suddenly, as if remembering it at the last possible second, "my fiancé has a son."
She glanced at me.
"He's only a year older than you, if that makes any difference," she added.
I nodded slowly.
"For sure he'll be invited to my birthday as well," she continued. "Though... I'm not certain he'll come."
"Why?" I asked.
She exhaled quietly, her fingers tightening around her purse.
"He doesn't really like family gatherings," she said. "Especially ones that feel... forced."
Something about that phrasing lingered in my mind.
"Is he not close to your fiancé?" I asked carefully.
She hesitated.
"It's not that," she said.
Then, after a pause—
"It's just... me."
I looked at her.
"He doesn't hate me," she added quickly. "At least, I don't think he does. He just..." She searched for the right word. "...keeps his distance."
Distance.
The word settled in the space between us.
"He's very direct," she continued after a moment. "If something bothers him, he won't hide it."
A faint smile appeared on her lips, though it looked tired.
"He doesn't like pretending."
For some reason, my chest tightened slightly.
"He's protective," she added quietly. "Especially about the things he believes belong to him."
I turned my gaze toward the window.
The city moved past us in blurred reflections of glass buildings and traffic lights.
"He doesn't say much when he's upset," she continued. "But you'll know."
"How?" I asked before I could stop myself.
She looked at me with mild surprise.
"You'll feel it," she said simply.
Silence followed.
The car hummed steadily as it moved through traffic.
"Anyway," she said at last, brushing the subject aside with a small wave of her hand, "I just want you to be civil when you meet him. Don't let yourself get pressured—that's all I'm asking. I'm hoping the two of you won't clash, but if you end up getting comfortable with each other..." She paused, a faint smile forming. "That would be even better."
I nodded once.
"I'm not there to take anything from him," I said calmly.
Her expression softened.
"I know you aren't."
She leaned back against the seat.
"He used to be warmer before," she said quietly, almost to herself. "That's what his father told me."
"Before what?" I asked.
She didn't answer immediately.
"Before his mother passed away."
The atmosphere inside the car shifted—not in any dramatic or overwhelming way, but in something quieter, more subtle.
I blinked, registering the change.
The way she said it hadn't been heavy or emotional. It was simply... factual, as if whatever grief it carried had already settled into silence long ago.
I swallowed.
And for some reason, that sounded familiar.
End of Chapter 36