**CHAPTER FIVE – Linda's POV**

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Linda glanced at her wristwatch as she stood in line at the bank, the weight of her father’s request tugging on her conscience like a stubborn child. It was **3:20 PM** already, and the queue wasn’t moving fast enough. Her brows furrowed with impatience as she clutched the brown envelope in her hand—documents her father had asked her to deliver and submit before 4 PM.

“Just this once, Linda,” her father had pleaded that morning. “I know you have something else later, but this is important for my loan application. You know how sluggish these banks can be. I’d go myself, but your mother needs me at the clinic.”

And just like that, her schedule had been thrown off-balance.

She had every intention of arriving at her tutoring session on time. In fact, she had spent the previous night preparing a summary of Kelvin’s most troubling academic areas. She’d even gone through past course outlines, jotted down key topics, and printed out extra resources. She wanted to make a good first impression—despite the fact that she hadn’t volunteered for this job. Her lecturer, Professor Esther had strongly encouraged her to take it on, saying the student in question—Kelvin Bloomberg—was “promising but academically challenged.”

“You’ll be doing a service to the department,” Professor Esther had said. “And to the faculty as a whole.”

Linda had reluctantly agreed. She didn’t know Kelvin personally, but everyone knew of him. Tall, loud, always surrounded by teammates, Kelvin had the kind of confidence that bordered on arrogance. Still, she believed people could surprise you—if given the chance.

But now, here she was, still at the bank, caught between obligation and responsibility. Her fingers tapped the edge of the envelope nervously as she kept checking her phone. The bank staff finally attended to her at **3:45 PM**. She raced out the doors the moment she was done, flagged down a tricycle, and urged the driver to go faster.

The minutes slipped by mercilessly.

By the time she reached the faculty building, her heart was racing. She sprinted up the stairs and reached Room 205 at exactly **4:15 PM**—ten minutes late.

He was already there.

And the look on his face told her everything.

“Hey,” she began, trying to catch her breath. “Sorry I’m late. I got held up at the bank—I had to run an errand for my dad, and it took longer than expected.”

But Kelvin wasn’t having it.

His words came fast and sharp—cutting through the air like blades. He didn’t care about her reason. He didn’t care that she was juggling family obligations and school responsibilities. He didn’t care that she was doing this for free—on her own time, with her own resources. All he saw was that she was late. And that, apparently, made her “unserious,” “unreliable,” and “a waste of time.”

She stood there, stunned, as he paced and scolded and dismissed her with more venom than the situation warranted. He didn’t give her a chance to explain. He didn’t even wait to calm down. He just stormed out like she was nothing more than an inconvenience in his busy world of dribbles and slam dunks.

Linda didn’t say anything.

Not because she didn’t have words.

But because the words wouldn’t have mattered.

She remained in the room for a few more minutes, trying to steady her breathing. She had encountered rude students before—entitled, brash, dismissive—but there was something about Kelvin’s outburst that hit differently. Maybe it was because she had tried so hard to be prepared. Maybe it was because she knew she didn’t deserve that kind of humiliation, especially not in the name of “helping someone succeed.”

She packed her notes and left, walking slowly back to her hostel with a heavy heart.

As the evening rolled in and the heat faded into a warm breeze, Linda sat by her window with a half-eaten plate of rice and her untouched tutoring notes beside her. She had replayed the scene over and over again in her head, wondering if she had been wrong to show up at all.

Maybe Kelvin didn’t need her.

Maybe this tutoring thing wasn’t for her.

Still, a part of her felt bound to the responsibility. She didn’t like to leave things halfway. And she didn’t like disappointing people—especially not those who believed in her. That was when her phone rang.

She glanced at the screen.

**Professor Collins**

Her heart skipped.

“Good evening, sir,” she answered, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Linda,” came the firm voice on the other end. “I just got off the phone with Coach Daniel.”

Her stomach dropped.

“He told me Kelvin came to complain that you showed up fifteen minutes late for the session.”

“I… I know, sir. I’m really sorry. I had to—”

“I don’t want excuses,” he cut in, his voice sharper now. “You’re one of my best students, Linda. That’s why I recommended you. I vouched for your reliability, your discipline, your excellence. And then you go ahead and make me look like a liar?”

Her throat tightened. “Sir, it wasn’t intentional. My dad needed help with something urgent. I—”

“I’m not saying you’re a bad student. But in this world, people will only remember how you *performed*, not what excuses you gave. This tutoring role may seem small to you, but it’s important. For Kelvin, for the faculty, and for me.”

Linda’s heart was sinking. “I understand, sir.”

“I hope you do. Because if you mess this up again, I’ll have no choice but to pull you out of the program. And that would be a shame, considering how much potential I know you have.”

“I won’t let it happen again,” she whispered.

There was a pause on the line before he replied, “Good. Then fix it.”

The line went dead.

Linda sat frozen, the phone still pressed to her ear. The weight of his disappointment crushed the remaining pride in her chest. She had tried her best—and yet, somehow, it wasn’t enough. Not for Kelvin. Not for Professor Collins. Maybe not even for herself.

She turned slowly to her notebook and stared at the neatly written bullet points she had prepared. Something shifted inside her—not anger, not frustration, but resolve.

She would show up tomorrow. On time. Prepared. Focused.

And if Kelvin still wanted to be a jerk?

She’d still show up.

Not because of him, but because she was **Linda **—a final-year student who finished what she started. Whether people recognized her efforts or not, she would not let one bad encounter define her. She would tutor him, and he would pass—whether he liked her or not.

And when it was all over, she would walk away knowing that she did her part with grace.

Even if no one ever said thank you.