Keng had learned to take every blow in silence. Late payments, overdue hospital bills, emergency tuition fees, he handled them all with a calm voice and steady hands. He’d been the pillar of his family since he was eighteen, the one who never faltered, the one everyone trusted. And even now, as a respected young professor at the university, he still lived half his life for others, sending money home every month without fail. Namping always told him to rest, to breathe, but Keng would only smile, tuck him in, and say, “Later, love. Just one more paper to grade.”

It was a quiet Thursday night when the phone rang. Namping was in the kitchen, humming as he prepared tea, when he heard Keng’s voice go still. “What?” Then quieter. “They’re taking the house?” His youngest sister was crying on the other end, her voice trembling. Their mother hadn’t told him, they’d fallen behind on payments again. Keng pressed a shaking hand to his forehead. “No, no, don’t cry. I’ll figure something out, okay? I’ll—” But his words cracked, collapsing halfway through. He hung up before his sister could hear him break.

When Namping came out, Keng was sitting on the couch, both hands covering his face. His chest rose and fell too fast, breaths shallow and hitched. “They’re losing the house, Ping,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Everything I’ve worked for… and it’s still not enough.” He tried to laugh it off, but the sound came out strangled. And when Namping knelt in front of him, gently taking his hands away, Keng’s tears finally fell. The strong, composed professor, his Keng, was shaking like a boy again. Namping wrapped his arms around him and murmured, “Then we’ll find a way together, okay? You don’t have to fix it alone anymore.”