dro crossed her legs on the edge of her foam, holding a chipped mug in both hands with lukewarm coffee between her hands. The walls were thin. She could hear the clang of the fryers below, someone

last payslip showed just over £300. Her scholarship covered tuition, barely enough. Rent swallowed most of her part-time wages. Her savings were gone. She made each pound work harder than it should. She pressed her palm to her forehead trying to figure out something on the fly. "I'll find it, I promise," she said with assurance. "I don't know," Juliana replied. "But I will." There was a pause, then a sigh on the other end. The only kind of aunt who gives when she wants to argue but chooses hope instead. "You are so predictable, I figured you would say that," Tia whispered. "Tell him that mama loves him." Juliana choked out. "Tell him I'll call tomorrow." She ended the call and finally let the tears drop. Later that evening, she was at the university cafe, she stood by the university counter, arms folded and smile forced into shape. The shift was long. Her wrists ached. Her feet burned. "Flat white, soy milk, extra hot," barked a girl in designer boots, not looking up from her phone. Juliana made the drink without a word. Condensation fogged the outside of her glass. Her body was present, but her thoughts had traveled back to that little hospital far from home in Guadalajara, where her five-year-old son was wrapped in a fragile layer of warmth. She'd lied to everyone. Her Classmates. Even her close friends. She had no father, mother, no siblings and no emergency contact just the smile she wore like armor and the books she clung to like a lifeline. But now, something had to break. After her shift, she stopped at the corner shop. Just milk. That's all she needed. She stared at the price. £1.45. She checke