Caleb’s POV
I woke up to the sound of knocking.
A slow, steady rhythm against my door.
For a second, I thought it was Jiji. That she had come back to finish what we started. But when I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I realized the sun had barely started rising.
And Jiji didn’t knock.
I groaned, dragging myself out of bed and stumbling toward the door, my head still heavy from last night. When I pulled it open, I froze.
My father stood there.
Dressed in his usual sharp suit, hands in his pockets, his face unreadable.
“Dad?” I croaked, still trying to shake off the lingering haze of sleep. “What the hell—”
“We need to talk.”
I hadn’t spoken to him in months. Not since he had dragged me out of that hospital bed, half-dead and fully convinced I was better off that way. Not since I had thrown every piece of advice he ever gave me back in his face.
And now he was here.
Something felt… off.
I stepped aside, letting him in, even though everything in me screamed against it.
He moved through my tiny apartment like he was taking inventory, his eyes flicking to the mess—empty bottles, clothes thrown carelessly across furniture, a guitar in the corner I hadn’t touched in weeks.
“This where you’ve been living?” he asked, not looking at me.
“It’s not home,” I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest.
His jaw tightened. “Good. Maybe you’ll stop making excuses and move forward.”
I let out a dry laugh, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah, sure. Move forward. Because it’s just that easy, right?”
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I didn’t come here to argue with you, Caleb.”
I didn’t respond. I was too busy trying to figure out why the hell he did come.
He turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “I got a letter in the mail yesterday. From Clae University.”
My stomach twisted.
I didn’t remember applying. Hell, I barely remembered what day it was half the time.
“What?” I asked, brows furrowing.
His lips pressed together in a firm line. “They accepted you.”
I blinked. “That’s not possible.”
He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a neatly folded letter. I hesitated before taking it, my fingers shaking slightly as I opened it.
And there it was.
My name. The university’s logo. An official acceptance.
I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.
This had to be a mistake.
I stared at it, my brain trying to catch up, trying to remember when I had applied.
“Dad,” I said slowly. “I didn’t—”
“You didn’t,” he interrupted.
I looked up sharply.
He met my gaze without hesitation.
“I did.”
A cold weight settled in my chest. “You what?”
He straightened, adjusting his cuffs like this was just another business deal he had arranged. “I submitted your application.”
The room went still.
A bitter laugh escaped me, humorless and sharp. “Are you fucking serious?”
His expression didn’t waver. “You had no plan, Caleb. No future. I wasn’t going to sit back and watch you throw your life away.”
My hands curled into fists at my sides. “You had no right.”
He took a step forward, his voice low but firm. “I had every right. You’re my son.”
Something inside me cracked.
I clenched my jaw, shaking my head. “You don’t get to make decisions for me. Not after everything—”
“What else was I supposed to do?” he snapped, his composure finally breaking. “Let you drink yourself into the grave? Let you keep running fights in back alleys until someone finished what that last guy started?”
I flinched.
His voice softened, just slightly. “I know you, Caleb. You need something to fight for. And you were good at this. Science. Helping people. You cared once.”
I swallowed hard, looking away.
“That was before,” I muttered.
“Before what?” he demanded. “Before you lost her?”
My entire body locked up.
The silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.
Finally, my father exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know what you’re thinking. That I’m just trying to control you. That I’m forcing this on you.”
“Aren’t you?” I bit out.
His gaze hardened. “I’m giving you a way out, Caleb. A real way out. Not a bottle. Not a fight. A future.”
I let the words settle, let them sink beneath my anger.
A future.
I looked back down at the letter.
Clae University.
Medical school.
This wasn’t me.
Was it?
I had spent the last year running. Destroying myself. Trying to not feel.
But now, faced with this—a second chance I hadn’t asked for—something inside me stirred.
A flicker of something I had buried.
Hope.
I clenched my jaw. “And if I say no?”
My father’s shoulders tensed.
“You won’t,” he said simply. “Because I know you, Caleb. And I know you don’t want to be this version of yourself forever.”
I swallowed hard, the anger warring with something dangerously close to acceptance.
I had spent so long thinking I had no choices left.
That my life had already been ruined beyond repair.
But now—
Now I had one.
A choice.
A future.
The question was, did I have the guts to take it?