At Christmas dinner, my sister lifted her glass, smiled like she was delivering a punchline, and introduced me to her boyfriend with one sentence: “This is the failure of our family.”

By second semester the math beat me. Rent went up. My bus route changed, adding another fifteen minutes each way. Tips at the café dropped after the holidays. A roommate moved out. The landlord selling the house became the final blow. Everyone had to be out by the end of the month, and the dorm waitlist might as well have been a fairy tale. Without nearby housing I couldn’t sustain the commute, work enough hours, and keep up with classes all at once.

When I called my father to say I might have to withdraw temporarily, he sighed like a man hearing the predictable end of a disappointing story.

“Well, Elena, sometimes college isn’t for everyone.”

Tina got on the extension line long enough to add, “We always knew Chloe was the academic one. You’re more hands-on. Maybe stable work would suit you better.”