Chapter 6
That evening, Maya knocked on the bedroom door.
I was sitting beside the window, reviewing the tuition documents.
"Can I come in?"
I nodded.
She entered slowly.
Her eyes were swollen from crying.
"I found something."
I put the papers down.
"What?"
She handed me an old photograph.
It showed the two of us standing beside a bright red bicycle.
Maya was seven.
I remembered that day.
She had fallen three times trying to learn how to ride without training wheels.
Every time, she had cried and insisted she wanted to quit.
I had convinced her to try again.
Eventually, she rode down the street with both hands gripping the handlebars.
She screamed with happiness.
I ran behind her until my lungs burned.
Maya sat beside me.
"I found this in my memory box."
I smiled faintly.
"I remember."
She looked at the picture.
"Do you remember what you told me?"
I thought for a moment.
"Probably something about keeping your eyes on the road."
She shook her head.
"You told me falling didn't mean I was failing."
My throat tightened.
She continued.
"You said the important thing was getting back up."
I nodded.
"Sounds like something I would say."
She looked at me.
"I fell pretty hard this week."
I managed a small smile.
"Yes, you did."
She began crying.
"I don't know how to fix it."
I put my arm around her shoulders.
For a moment, she leaned against me like she used to when she was little.
Then she whispered, "Can you forgive me?"
I closed my eyes.
I wanted to say yes immediately.
I wanted to erase the pain in her face.
But forgiveness wasn't the same as pretending her words hadn't hurt.
"I love you, Maya."
She began crying harder.
"I love you too, Dad."
I held her.
"But we need to talk about what happened."
She nodded.
"You can't decide I'm your father when you need money and a stranger when you don't."
"I know."
"And you can't use words to hurt people just because you're angry."
She wiped her cheeks.
"I know."
I looked at her.
"Your relationship with Raymond is yours to decide. I won't compete with him."
She nodded.
"But I need you to understand that my love isn't something you have to trade for his."
Her face crumpled.
"I think I was trying to prove he wanted me."
I held her tighter.
"You never had to prove that to me."
She cried against my shoulder.
We stayed like that for a long time.
Eventually, she pulled back.
"About the tuition..."
I took a breath.
"I've been thinking about it."
She looked frightened.
"I contacted the university today."
Her eyes widened.
"You did?"
"I asked about payment plans, financial aid, and the deadline."
She waited.
"They confirmed that we have options."
Maya nodded slowly.
"I want to help."
I smiled faintly.
"That's good."
"No, Dad. I mean it. I can get a job. I can use my savings. I don't want you to think I only care about the money."
I studied her face.
For the first time, she wasn't demanding anything.
She was offering to take responsibility.
That mattered.
"I've decided to contribute toward the remaining balance," I said.
Her eyes filled with tears.
"But not because you apologized."
She looked confused.
"Then why?"
"Because I made a commitment to help you finish college. And I still want to see you graduate."
She covered her mouth.
I continued.
"However, we're going to make a financial plan together. You'll contribute what you reasonably can, and we'll discuss future expenses before anyone assumes I'll pay them."
She nodded quickly.
"Yes. Absolutely."
I reached for her hand.
"And Maya?"
"Yes?"
"Never mistake someone's willingness to help for weakness."
She lowered her head.
"I won't."
The following morning, Maya came downstairs carrying a folder.
She had printed information about part-time jobs, payment plans, and scholarship opportunities.
She placed everything on the kitchen table.
"I made a budget."
I looked at it.
She had calculated her savings, possible work hours, and remaining expenses.
It wasn't perfect.
But it was a beginning.
"I'm proud of you," I said.
She smiled through tears.
"Thanks, Dad."
Linda stood near the kitchen doorway, watching us.
For the first time in days, she looked relieved.
But I couldn't return her smile.
Not yet.
Later that afternoon, she approached me while Maya was upstairs.
"Thank you for helping her."
I nodded.
"She's my daughter."
Linda looked at me.
"I know."
I turned toward her.
"Do you?"
She flinched.
"Marcus..."
"You knew about the inheritance."
She nodded.
"For eight years."
Tears filled her eyes.
"I was ashamed."
"Of what?"
"Of admitting that Raymond had taken money from Maya. I thought if I could keep things stable, she wouldn't have to know."
I stared at her.
"So you let me carry the financial burden?"
"I never intended to hurt you."
"But you did."
She began crying.
I felt exhausted.
I had spent years believing that honesty was the foundation of our marriage.
Now I knew my wife had hidden information that affected our daughter's future and our finances.
"I need time," I said.
Linda nodded.
"Are you leaving me?"
I looked at her.
"I don't know."
Her face crumpled.
I hated seeing her cry.
But I couldn't promise something I wasn't ready to give.
"We need counseling," I said. "And I need complete honesty."
She nodded quickly.
"Anything."
I looked at her carefully.
"Then start by telling me whether Raymond has been sending you money."
May you like
She froze.
And I knew there was still another secret.
