I turned around, exasperated, only to see Nathan dropping to his knees right in front of me. His face was pale, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.
“Maya,” he pleaded, his voice trembling, “please come home with me. My mom doesn’t have much time left. She just wants to meet you before she…” He paused, his voice cracking. “Before she dies. Can’t the job wait?”
His dramatic gesture drew the attention of the students nearby. Their eyes darting between us like spectators at a play.
Nathan knew me too well—he was playing on my kind-hearted nature. I hesitated, caught between the weight of his plea and the silent judgment of the crowd.
I reached down to help him up, but he swatted my hand away, his expression growing more desperate.
“My mom really can’t hold on, Maya,” he said, his voice louder now, almost theatrical. “I promise, I’ll make sure you don’t miss your interview.”
I could feel the stares burning into my skin, the murmurs around us growing louder.
“Tsk, tsk. And she’s supposed to be a college student?” a woman whispered loudly. “How heartless! Her future mother-in-law just wants to meet her before she dies and she’s acting like this?”
“Exactly,” another chimed in. “Women shouldn’t even be so focused on careers. She should be staying home, raising kids, taking care of the family!”
The comments felt like tiny daggers, stabbing at my resolve. Why should I have to justify prioritizing my career over meeting Nathan’s parents? I wasn’t even married to him yet!
I forced myself to block out their words and looked directly at Nathan, still kneeling on the cold ground.
“Can’t your mom wait a few days?” I asked firmly. “I have an interview on Monday.”
Nathan hesitated, just for a moment and I caught the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.
“Either I go after the interview, or I don’t go at all,” I said, standing my ground. “And if that’s a problem, Nathan, maybe we should just break up.”
My words hung in the air like a challenge and Nathan visibly panicked. He glanced around at the crowd, his face turning red with embarrassment.
“Fine,” he said at last, his voice subdued. “We’ll go after your interview.”
With that, he stood up and stepped away to make a phone call. The crowd, sensing the drama was over, slowly dispersed.
From a distance, I could see Nathan’s apologetic expression as he spoke into the phone, probably explaining the situation to his mother.
***
With the trip postponed, I focused on my interview preparations. The day before we were set to leave, I received the travel details Nathan had arranged. My heart sank when I saw the ticket information: a 56-hour train ride in a hard-seat coach.
I sighed. I’d endured worse journeys before. Growing up in poverty meant I’d learned how to make do, even if it meant sacrificing comfort.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to take a plane or a high-speed train; I just couldn’t justify spending money I didn’t have on something so trivial. Every penny I earned through scholarships and part-time jobs was carefully allocated and I wasn’t about to waste it now.
As the departure date drew closer, Nathan became unusually clingy. He followed me everywhere, barely letting me out of his sight.
“Nathan,” I joked one evening, “you’re acting like a prison guard. What’s with the constant surveillance?”
He laughed nervously, but his eyes betrayed something darker. “I just don’t want you to run off. If you do, I’ll lose my future wife,” he said with a forced smile.
I brushed off his comment, assuming he was just being dramatic. After all, where would I even go?
***
The interview day arrived and thankfully, everything went smoothly. I had the job! My first day would be in two weeks. Elated, I returned to the dorm that night, ready to pack for the trip.
The following morning, before the sun had risen, Nathan and I arrived at the train station. The platform was a chaotic sea of people. We boarded the crowded train, settling into our cramped seats for the long journey ahead.
