Isaac Adeniran sat hunched over in the far corner of the university library, surrounded by stacks of books, an open laptop with flickering tabs, and a chipped coffee mug. The silence felt heavy, broken only by the occasional hum of the air conditioner kicking to life. He didn't check the time; he already knew it was late. The night had melted into early morning hours without him noticing, and the hours he'd spent buried in this small oasis of quiet were starting to take a toll on his weary mind.

His stomach let out a low, insistent grumble, reminding him he hadn't eaten since lunch. He rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a slightly squashed granola bar, one of the last from the stash he had kept on hand for days when he couldn't afford to grab something proper. Tearing open the wrapper, he took a bite, not even tasting the sweetness as his mind raced through the endless calculations, proposals, and unanswered emails he needed to tackle before sunrise.

It was the kind of exhaustion that felt bone-deep. The kind that even sleep couldn't cure. But there was no room for rest—not now, not when everything felt like it was slipping just out of reach. Isaac was a PhD candidate, weeks away from defending his dual thesis in Economics and Psychology. The culmination of years spent studying, researching, and pushing himself beyond his limits. But none of that meant anything if he couldn't make it through these final few months.

He had spent his life chasing the dream of a better future, clawing his way out of poverty with the promise of a brighter, more stable tomorrow. And yet, here he was, unable to shake the reality that, despite everything, he was only one misstep away from losing it all.

A message notification pinged on his laptop, breaking the fragile focus he'd built. It was from his landlord, a blunt reminder that rent was due. Isaac's shoulders tensed as he scanned the message, his jaw clenching. The figures were impossible, numbers that might as well have been written in another language for all the chance he had of covering them this month. Every time he thought he'd managed to get ahead, something came along to pull him back under.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, counting to five before releasing it slowly. This wasn't new. He was used to balancing on the edge, always trying to make ends meet with the meagre teaching assistant stipend he earned, along with whatever extra tutoring hours he could scrape together. His bank account was a steady stream of red, a testament to his struggle to keep afloat while juggling the impossible demands of his degree.

The world outside these walls was a brutal place, one he'd been fighting against for as long as he could remember. He'd grown up watching people struggle, feeling the weight of his family's sacrifices to give him the education he'd always been told was the golden ticket to a better life. But what was education if it left him drowning in debt, tethered to an endless cycle of worry and fear?

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he imagined telling David, his younger brother, about all this. David, with his easy laughter and relentless optimism, would probably shake his head and say something like, "Just hang in there, big bro. It's tough now, but it won't be like this forever."

David was the one bright spot in his life, the single thread of warmth in the cold expanse of responsibility and ambition that surrounded him. Isaac had practically raised him after their parents passed, doing everything he could to shield him from the worst of their circumstances. They lived together out of necessity, and while David helped out with the bills as much as he could, Isaac couldn't shake the feeling that he was dragging his brother into his mess.

Lost in thought, Isaac didn't notice the security guard approaching until a polite cough broke the silence. He looked up, blinking against the fluorescent lights that suddenly felt too bright.

"Library's closing up," the guard said with a sympathetic smile. "Time to pack up, I'm afraid."

Isaac forced a nod, quickly gathering his books and stuffing them into his worn backpack. His limbs felt heavy, each movement slower than the last as exhaustion crept into his bones. He knew he should be heading home to rest, but rest felt like a luxury he couldn't afford. Not when there was so much left to do.

Outside, the air was cool and the streets nearly empty save for the occasional car rumbling by. The silence of the city at night felt both comforting and isolating, a reminder that while everyone else was safely tucked into their beds, he was out here, fighting battles that felt never-ending.

His apartment was only a short walk away, a cramped two-room unit they'd managed to rent at a discount. It wasn't much, but it was home. As he reached the door and let himself in, he was greeted by the faint sound of music coming from David's room. Isaac smiled, a familiar warmth spreading through him as he recognised the tune—a song they used to listen to on repeat back when they were kids.

Isaac dropped his bag by the couch, sinking into it with a weary sigh. The springs creaked beneath him, the sound a reminder of the apartment's age and the years they'd spent trying to make it feel like theirs. For a moment, he allowed himself to just sit there, his mind drifting, each thought pulling him deeper into the haze of fatigue.

Sitting in the quiet, Isaac felt the weight of it all pressing down on him. The pressure of his endless deadlines, his fear he was not enough, thoughts of falling short and losing everything he'd sacrificed so much for. He was no stranger to hard work, but this felt different. It felt like he was running out of time, with no safety net and nowhere left to turn.

His mind drifted back to David, and he wondered if his brother understood just how much Isaac had sacrificed to keep their lives stable. David was the reason Isaac kept going, the reason he didn't let himself break, even when the burden felt impossible. He was the only person who didn't look at him and see someone who was barely hanging on by a thread.

For a fleeting moment, Isaac allowed himself to imagine a life without all of this—the constant pressure, the anxiety, the nagging feeling that he was one misstep away from ruin. He pictured a life where he didn't have to count every penny, where he could afford to take a breath without fear of losing it all.

But reality came crashing back, as it always did. He couldn't afford to dream, not when the stakes were this high.

Isaac leaned forward, resting his head in his hands, exhaustion settling into his bones like an old ache. He didn't know how long he could keep this up, but he had no choice. Not if he wanted to give David the life he deserved, the life neither of them had ever had.

Maybe someday, he'd find a way out. Maybe someday, he'd prove that all of this was worth it.

But for now, all he could do was keep going.