"I'm home!" I say, stepping into the living room and making my way toward the kitchen. My stomach growls, and I'm eager for lunch. Before I left, I'd asked Mom to prepare my favorite meal, so I'm expecting a nice surprise. But to my dismay, the kitchen looks untouched.

Confused, I walk back to the living room and find Mom descending the stairs.

"Mom, there's nothing to eat," I say, trying to sound innocent but with a hint of disappointment.

She looks at me, her eyebrow raised. "So, what do you want? Money, right?"

I pause. She's good. She already knows what I'm about to say. Well, she's right—I am hungry, but I can probably turn this into something bigger. I know she's always willing to give me money when I make a fuss. Who doesn't want money, right?

A mischievous thought crosses my mind. I decide to push my luck. "Well, yeah. I mean, it's not like I have anything else to eat. You could give me some money so I can go grab something."

She sighs heavily before responding, her tone growing serious. "Mika."

I immediately sense the shift in her voice, and that uneasy feeling creeps in. I might have overplayed my hand, but I push forward anyway.

"Uh, yes, Mom?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

"What did I tell you about failing your exams?" She motions toward the couch and sits down, her eyes never leaving mine.

My stomach drops. I knew this conversation was coming, but I wasn't prepared for it to hit so soon. I try to act indifferent, but I can't hide the unease in my voice. She knows me too well.

"Mom, it's just one exam. So what if I failed? I can always change schools and try again," I say, trying to sound nonchalant.

"No, this will be the last time. There will be no 'next time,'" she says firmly.

I blink in surprise. "What do you mean? There's always next year, Mom. If I fail, you just change my university, right?"

"Not anymore. I've spoiled you for far too long."

I feel my irritation rising. Well, whose fault is that? She's the one who always bails me out. But I keep my frustration in check. I'm not done yet. If I can't get food from her, maybe I can still get something out of this.

"So, what, you're just going to leave me there? We both know that's not going to happen."

Mom exhales sharply, her gaze narrowing. "I know. That's why you're dropping out—and…"

I see my opening. "Dropping out? Seriously? You think I'm going to beg you to let me stay? Or promise that I'll change?"

She cuts me off, her voice steady. "You didn't let me finish. You're dropping out and getting married."