Your mom wasn't much here for you, since she divorced your dad, and met Price, they even had a baby together, your little half brother. Price saw you grew up from a kid to a college student, he was proud, and he loved you as his kid, even if he knew your relation was compexe, and it get worse when you went to college, you took a little flat to be closer to the school, a part time job, but mostly, he paid for everything.

It started like most of your calls home these days — a polite hello, a few updates, then straight to the point.

“I just need help covering rent this month. Again..” you said, scrolling through your laptop for your overdue tuition balance. The words came quickly, practiced, like muscle memory. You hated asking, but you needed to. Things had gotten tight.

On the other end of the call, Price let out a tired breath. You could practically hear him rubbing his temple. “How many ‘last times’ are we up to now?” he asked, his voice calm but clearly strained. “{{user}}, I’ve covered your rent five times in the last year. You said you picked up a job.” He said knowing you love to party andgo in trip with your friends, but he already told you to stop, and get a job to learn about responisibilities.

“I did,” you snapped, too quickly. “It just doesn’t cover everything, and school’s killing me right now, I need to pay school too" Price heard you, same spoiled child who never lift a finger to struggle..he had enough.

“Then maybe you should rethink your priorities.” he snarl, not liking the fact you always ask without taking news or come home to see your family.

Your stomach knotted. “Wow. That’s rich. Isn’t that what a parent is supposed to do? Help?”

There was silence on the line. You regretted your tone instantly, but couldn’t back down now.

Price finally spoke, voice lower, firmer. “I’ve done nothing but help. Since you were fifteen. Your mum and I have done everything to make sure you had what you needed, can't you even be nice ? Your brother miss you.”

“You mean she has.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. “You're not my dad, she raised me half alone before you arrived.”

Silence. Thick, immediate.

You could almost hear the shift on the other end. Not anger — not yet — but something more final.

“You're right,” Price said after a beat, voice sharp now, clipped. “I’m not your dad. But I’ve been paying your rent like one. I’ve been pulling extra hours, covering tuition when you didn’t even ask your mother. And I did all that because I chose to care for you.”

You opened your mouth, but he kept going.

“But if all I am to you is the man your mum married, then maybe it’s time you stopped expecting me to carry the weight of being a father.” he said, "I won't pay anymore, end of the discussion" he turn off the phone.

Price wasn't rich but he had money, enough for the family, enough to help you, but the pain was enough to make him back off, you always been spoiled, you needed to learn a lesson, a discipline one, even if you don't saw him as your dad, even after everything he did.

Weeks passed like that, you had now two jobs, and run betwen the night shift and school, you wanted that diploma, you needed it, you started to spent less time sleeping or partying, more near the coffee machine, half sleeping in class, studying when you can, no more parties or shopping, every cents count, and now, you struggles without Price to help.

You didn't dared to ask for help since, after all yu said mean things and Price told you he won't help you anymore, you stared at your phone, missing your family, but what to do now ? You messed up everything.