Ethan was still in the kitchen, sitting at the kitchen table. His hands folded tightly in front of him not because he was confident, but to hide his nervousness.
Just a moment ago, he had felt sure of himself, and about everything. He had done the transfer of money part in a calm and composed manner. Everything seemed like it was under control.
But now?
The silence was thick. Heavy. Like a storm pressing against the walls, waiting to be let in.
Across the table, Aaron finally spoke. His voice was quiet, careful.
"Ethan... where did this money come from?"
Elise spoke quickly, her voice soft but no less urgent. "Yes, Ethan. We need you to be honest with us. This is a lot of money."
Ethan swallowed. He felt like he was being interrogated for a crime that he had never done. Clearing his throat now felt no different than forcing down a stone.
He had known that he would be asked by his parents. He had told himself repeatedly that he could get out of this without a problem since he owed nobody any explanation, not even his parents.
Guess what? He had even rehearsed it too many times in his mind. Each rehearsal showed that he would be okay. But the truth? It was harder than expected.
"Ethan," Aaron said again.
His voice was a lot sharper now. The kind that could make anyone tremble.
"Y-y-yes, Dad," Ethan stuttered. He wished to smack his head for being like that.
Aaron's eyes narrowed. There were in the way someone might squint at a coin, unsure if it's real. "Did you know how much it was?"
Elise nodded, pale and worried. "Ethan," she said, her voice catching just a little, "you didn't borrow this, did you? Please tell us you haven't gotten involved with loan sharks or... anything illegal."
"What?" Ethan stared at her, stunned.
"No, Mom," he said quickly, shaking his head. His words tumbled out fast as if trying to outrun her imagination. "It's nothing like that. I didn't borrow it. It's... from the university."
Aaron's brow furrowed. His confusion was plain. "From the university?" he echoed, leaning forward slightly. "You're saying your tutoring job pays that much?"
"No, not the tutoring," Ethan said, doing his best to stay calm. He could feel the disbelief settling into the room like a weight. But he kept going.
"It's payment for a programming project. A big one."
Aaron and Elise exchanged a look. The kind parents give each other when neither wants to be the first to say what they're both thinking. Elise set her phone down. Her hands were still trembling.
Aaron's voice grew firmer, deeper now. It carried the quiet strength of someone who had held a family together through storms no one else had seen.
"Ethan," Aaron said, steady but direct, "what kind of project are we talking about? You don't expect us to believe tutoring or shop work brought in ten grand. Overnight."
Ethan held his father's gaze. He could feel the tension behind the question, the pressure to crack.
"It's through the computer science faculty," he replied. "A digital project."
His parents said nothing, just watched him. Waiting.
"They needed someone to build a portal for the faculty library. Custom system. I've worked with the campus tech team before, so they came to me."
That earned a flicker of recognition. Ethan had always been the go-to problem-solver. Top student. Quiet, focused. Reliable.
Still, Elise's brow stayed tight, her hands clasped like she was bracing for more. Aaron leaned back slightly, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"I'm still not convinced," he said. "It is not that I'm not happy with the trust and recognition people give to you but this is like... too much money."
"Dad, you know I've done smaller freelance jobs before," Ethan continued, "but this one's bigger."
He paused, taking a deep breath before adding, "They needed it done fast and didn't want to go through an agency."
Elise tilted her head. "But why you? And why pay so much?"
"They said hiring out would cost them a fortune. This way, they save money, and I get real-world experience."
Aaron raised an eyebrow. "And they just handed you ten thousand dollars?"
"Actually, more. I asked for a portion upfront to get started, and they agreed. I only noticed it in my account late last night."
There was a beat of silence. Elise still looked unconvinced.
"Ten thousand still feels excessive," she said. "Even with your skills."
Ethan shrugged. "I thought so too, but when you compare it to agency rates, some charge over a hundred grand. So, it adds up. Paying me a fraction saves them a lot."
Aaron's expression didn't change, but the crease in his brow eased. Slightly.
"They've already paid?" he asked, fingers tapping the table.
Ethan nodded. "Yes. It came through quicker than I expected."
Elise glanced at the phone in her hand like it might offer another explanation.
"Ethan," she said softly, "are you sure this is okay? We're grateful, but this is a lot on your plate. School, work... life. Are you sure it's not too much?"
Ethan paused, then answered with quiet confidence. "I can handle it, Mom. I've been doing work like this for years. It's good for my resume, and it helps us."
Aaron exhaled slowly, still weighing it all.
"You really think you can manage something this big?"
"I know I can," Ethan said, calm and steady. "Let me do this."
After a moment, he continued, "What about the money? The support you've already given us is generous, but are you sure it won't leave you short and demotivated?"
Ethan smiled slightly. "Don't worry, Dad."
"I have already done most of the planning," Ethan said, leaning forward a bit.
"Coding is the easy part for me. Honestly, the hardest part is convincing you both that I've got this," he added with a small laugh, his tone light but sincere.
For a moment, neither of his parents spoke. Elise's hands were clenched together, but then she relaxed them on the table. Aaron looked at her and stroked his chin, his expression changing to a more thoughtful one.
The silence between them no longer carried the brittle edge of tension.
Instead, it hung in the air like the soft stillness of a twilight hour—a pause not of certainty but of quiet acknowledgment, as if the pieces of an unseen puzzle were beginning, however clumsily, to find their place.
And for Ethan, that was enough.
Ethan met his parents' eyes with a look of quiet determination, softened by affection. "And besides," he said gently, "I really want to be of help to you guys. This is not a burden. It's something I want to do."
Aaron said nothing. He simply looked at his son, his expression unreadable, as though weighing the words against the long years of struggle they had all endured together.
Then, slowly, he nodded. "Alright," he said, at last, his voice low but steady. "I'll accept your help. Thank you, Ethan."
Well, the words sounded simple. But they carried something that Ethan could heavily feel in his chest. He could not describe the relief he felt that washed over him in a wave so powerful he almost sighed aloud.
He had done it—he had reassured them, at least for now.
Elise, still sitting close to him, reached out and took his hand. Her grip was firm but warm, the kind of touch that could carry both gratitude and worry at once.
She managed a small, trembling smile. "We trust you," she said softly. "But, Ethan, if it ever becomes too much, you have to tell us. Promise me. We don't want you carrying more than you can handle."
"I promise," Ethan replied, his voice steady.
But even as he spoke, his mind was already racing. The promise wasn't false—he meant it at the moment—but deep down, he knew the real challenge ahead wasn't the project or even his parents' concerns.
It was the system. The incredible, unexplainable system that had placed unimaginable power in his hands.
The thought was exhilarating, almost dizzying. Yet he forced himself to stay composed. For now, there were no systems, no billion-dollar questions—just his family and the quiet relief beginning to settle over them like the first rays of sunlight after a storm.
Aaron stretched and yawned as he stood, his weariness seeming lighter somehow, like a man who had finally been allowed to set down a heavy load.
"Well," he said with a small, contented smile, "this changes everything, but I'll still find a few side jobs."
Ethan chuckled, the sound light and unrestrained. "No need, Dad," he said with a grin. "I've got us covered for a while."
Elise's face softened further, and for the first time in what felt like years, she let out a small laugh, the sound bright and fragile, like the first chirp of a bird in spring.
"Thank you so much, Ethan," she said, her voice filled with warmth.
Aaron nodded his agreement, his hand resting briefly on his son's shoulder—a silent gesture of gratitude and pride.
The three of them shared a look that needed no words. For the first time in longer than any of them cared to admit, they felt something close to peace.
The weight of years of financial strain, of quiet desperation and sleepless nights, had finally lifted. And all it had taken was a single transfer of money—a simple act that, in its own quiet way, had reshaped everything.
Author's Note:
I wanted to take a moment to address something I've noticed in feedback about earlier drafts of this story.
Some readers might find Ethan's explanation to his parents here a bit too convenient or unbelievable, and I completely understand that perspective.
But before jumping to conclusions, I encourage you to keep reading! I promise, there's more depth to his parents' thoughts and reactions that will unfold as the story progresses.
The truth is, no matter how I write this scenario—whether Ethan says the money came from an investment, a freelance project, or anything else—there will always be both pros and cons to the logic.
It's a balancing act, and what feels logical to one person might not to another. What matters most to me is crafting a story that feels human, nuanced, and emotionally authentic, even if it doesn't fit everyone's idea of perfect logic.
With that in mind, I kindly ask for your understanding. If something doesn't resonate with you, that's okay!
But let's keep the conversation constructive. Unnecessary negativity can influence other readers and take away from the experience of those who might otherwise enjoy the story.
If you have feedback, feel free to share it respectfully—I'm always open to improving and growing as a writer.
Thank you again for being here, and I hope you continue to enjoy Ethan's journey. The best is yet to come!