Sadi insisted on going.

Roman hated the idea.

That was precisely why she knew he would come too.

Her old building looked smaller than she remembered.

Mrs. Alvarez still lived downstairs.

The seventy-year-old woman opened her door, saw Sadi, and immediately hugged her.

“My girl.”

Sadi smiled.

“Hi, Mrs. Alvarez.”

Then the woman noticed Roman.

“Oh.”

Roman nodded politely.

“Ma'am.”

Mrs. Alvarez looked him up and down.

“At least this one looks like he eats properly.”

Sadi burst out laughing.

Roman blinked.

“I like her.”

Mrs. Alvarez waved them inside.

“Trevor was here.”

Sadi's smile disappeared.

“What did he want?”

“Old mail.”

“Why?”

“He kept asking whether anything arrived after he left.”

Roman frowned.

“What kind of mail?”

Mrs. Alvarez disappeared into a closet.

She returned carrying a small cardboard box.

“I saved these because I thought you might come back.”

Sadi opened it.

Old envelopes.

Bills.

Advertisements.

Then Roman saw one.

Hawthorne Medical Scholarship Foundation.

Sadi froze.

“No.”

She tore it open.

The letter was three years old.

Congratulations, Ms. Sadi Bennett...

Her hands began trembling.

Roman read over her shoulder.

Full tuition.

Living stipend.

Nursing program.

Sadi sat down.

“I never saw this.”

Mrs. Alvarez looked confused.

“I thought you knew.”

“No.”

“Trevor collected your mail the week after he left. He said you asked him to.”

Sadi slowly looked at Roman.

“I didn't.”

Another envelope sat underneath.

Already opened.

Same foundation.

Roman's face became cold.

Mrs. Alvarez whispered, “Sadi?”

She unfolded the second letter.

It confirmed her acceptance deadline.

The deadline she had missed.

Trevor hadn't only taken six hundred dollars.

He had taken the letter that could have changed her life.

Sadi's phone rang.

Unknown number.

She answered.

“Hello?”

Trevor's voice came through.

“So you found it.”

Roman's head snapped toward the phone.

Sadi put it on speaker.

“You knew.”

Trevor was silent.

“You knew I got the scholarship.”

“You would've left.”

Sadi stared at the wall.

“You left me.”

“I had an opportunity.”

“And I didn't?”

“You would've gone to school in Boston.”

“That was my dream.”

“What about my career?”

Sadi's voice sharpened.

“What about it?”

“I needed you working. We had bills.”

“You took my savings and left anyway!”

Trevor breathed heavily.

“I made a mistake.”

“No.”

Sadi stood.

“A mistake is forgetting an anniversary. You opened my mail and hid my scholarship because my success was inconvenient for you.”

Roman said nothing.

He didn't need to.

Trevor heard him breathing.

“Is Vale there?”

“Yes.”

“Of course he is.”

Trevor laughed bitterly.

“Tell your husband he won.”

Roman finally spoke.

“This was never a competition.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“No, Trevor. You still don't understand.”

Roman's voice was quiet.

“You keep measuring yourself against me. Money. Position. Influence.”

A pause.

“I don't think about you at all.”

Trevor went silent.

Roman handed the phone back to Sadi.

She said, “Neither do I anymore.”

“Sadi—”

“Goodbye, Trevor.”

She ended the call.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then Roman looked at the scholarship letter.

“Do you still want it?”

She frowned.

“What?”

“Nursing.”

“Roman, that was three years ago.”

“I didn't ask when it was.”

She stared at him.

“Do you still want it?”

Sadi looked down at the letter.

For years, she had told herself that dream belonged to another woman.

A poorer woman.

A frightened woman.

But perhaps she had been wrong.

“Yes.”

Roman nodded.

“Then apply again.”

“What if they reject me?”

“Then you apply somewhere else.”

“And if they reject me?”

“Again.”

Sadi smiled through tears.

“You make everything sound simple.”

“No.”

Roman touched her cheek.

“I just don't believe Trevor gets to decide how your story ends.”

---