The alarm didn't go off. It didn't need to.
My body had an internal clock calibrated by years of forced early mornings and chronic anxiety.
I opened my eyes at 5:30 a.m., staring fixedly at the damp-stained ceiling of my studio apartment. The place was barely larger than a shoebox, located on the city's outskirts where rent cost what a rich student spent on lunch. But for me, it represented the day's first battlefield.
I sat up, feeling the cheap wooden slats creak under the mattress. It was cold. Thermal insulation was a luxury this building didn't offer.
"One more day," I murmured, my hoarse voice breaking the silence. It was a mantra. A promise.
I got up and went straight to the kitchenette, just two steps from the bed. I put water on to heat for instant coffee. While I waited, I mentally checked my bank balance. After paying rent, utilities, and sending money home for Lili and Mom, I had just enough left to eat rice and beans for the rest of the month.
Lili.
Her name conjured the image of an eighteen-year-old girl with messy braids and a smile the world hadn't managed to wipe away yet. She wanted to study Veterinary Medicine. It was an expensive degree.
Hang in there a little longer, kiddo, I thought, pouring the black, bitter coffee into a chipped mug. Your big brother is handling it.
I showered with lukewarm water leaning towards cold (to save gas) and got dressed. My clothes were a uniform of social camouflage: unbranded dark jeans, a white shirt meticulously ironed the night before, and shoes I polished every two days to hide the wear on the leather.
At San Marcos University, appearance wasn't vanity; it was survival. If they saw you as weak or poor, they ate you alive. Or worse, they ignored you.
I left the apartment at 6:15 a.m. The commute by public transport to the upper side of the city took forty-five minutes. I used the trip to review my notes for Global Economics. I had gotten the scholarship because of my grades, and I would keep it because of my grades. There was no margin for error.
Upon arriving at the campus, the atmosphere shifted. The air seemed cleaner here. Buildings of modern architecture and glass stood imposing, surrounded by gardens that cost a fortune to maintain. Sports cars roared into the student parking lot, driven by kids who had never filled out a tax form in their lives.
I walked toward the International Business building, eyes fixed forward.
"Hey, Lucas!"
The voice stopped me before I could enter. I turned and saw Elena running toward me from the bus stop. Unlike the others, she didn't arrive in a sports car, even though her family could have bought her one.
Elena approached with flushed cheeks and that inexhaustible energy that I sometimes found draining at this hour of the morning. She wore a designer backpack trying to look casual and a hoodie worth more than my rent.
"Good morning, Elena," I said, allowing a slight smile to break my stoicism. It was hard not to smile at her. We had been partners in crime since we were five, running barefoot on the village beach before her father made a fortune in exports and they moved to the city.
"I almost didn't make it," she said, catching her breath and giving me a friendly punch on the shoulder. Too hard to be flirtatious, too soft to be an attack. The universal greeting of "bros." "Did you do the reading for Dr. Elisa's class? They say she's going to quiz people at random today."
"I did. And you should call her Dr. Montero; you know how she gets with formalities."
"You're so boring, Lucas," she laughed, walking beside me. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that she was watching me, probably looking for some trace of exhaustion on my face or checking if I had skipped breakfast again.
Elena was like that, always looking out for me, with that unconditional loyalty forged only after years of scraped knees and shared secrets. To me, she was simply Elena, my sidekick, an extension of my own family. In this place where everything felt hostile and foreign, knowing my best friend had my back was the only thing that gave me room to breathe.
My head was too busy turning pennies into days of survival to analyze anything else; I was simply grateful to have someone real by my side.
"I'm just practical," I replied, adjusting my backpack strap. "Come on, I don't want to be late."
We entered the main hallway. It was filled with closed circles, laughing and talking about trips to Europe and exclusive parties. I was a ghost among them, and I liked it that way.
However, fate has a twisted sense of humor.
As we turned the corner toward the stairs, a group was blocking the way. In the center was her. Valeria.
She had been at this university for a week, and I already knew who she was. It was impossible not to. Valeria didn't walk; she paraded. She was twenty-five, but had the attitude of a bored empress. Today she wore a black tailored suit that fit her body like a second skin, screaming money and power.
She was arguing with, or rather, humiliating a freshman girl who had spilled coffee near her shoes.
"Watch where you're going," Valeria was saying, her icy voice resonating down the hall. "These shoes cost more than your semester's tuition."
The guy next to her, a tall type with a sour face and a solid gold watch, was laughing as if it were the funniest joke in the world. Her boyfriend. Or her accessory of the month.
The coffee girl was on the verge of tears. I felt Elena tense up beside me.
"Let's go, Lucas," she whispered. "Don't get involved. It's Valeria."
She was right. It wasn't my problem. My goal was to graduate, get a job at a multinational, and get Lili out of the village. Not to play the hero.
But then, Valeria looked up. Her eyes, dark and empty, met mine.
She expected me to look down. She expected me to move aside like everyone else did.
I didn't. I held her gaze with the indifference of someone who has seen worse things than a rich girl with an attitude problem. I had seen my mother cry over not having food to eat. I had seen men break their backs for minimum wage. Valeria's arrogance seemed to me... childish. Pathetic.
I walked past her without stopping, forcing her and her boyfriend to move slightly so they wouldn't crash into me. It wasn't a shove. It was simply not ceding my space.
"Excuse me," I said, with a flat, professional tone, as if speaking to an automatic door that was taking too long to open.
The silence in the hallway was absolute.
Valeria stood still, turning slowly to look at my back. I could feel her indignation burning the back of my neck. Nobody ignored Valeria. Nobody treated her like she was part of the furniture.
"Who does that starving nobody think he is?" I heard her boyfriend hiss.
"Shut up," Valeria cut him off. Her voice didn't sound angry. It sounded... curious.
I kept walking without turning around. Elena jogged to keep up with me, looking at me with wide eyes.
"You're crazy," she whispered, half terrified, half impressed. "You just declared war on the owner of the university."
"I don't have time for wars, Elena," I replied, visualizing the classroom door as my finish line. "I have to work at four."
But as we entered Dr. Montero's class, I knew my anonymity was over.
I had made the mistake of being real in a world of plastic. And I had the feeling that Valeria wasn't the kind of woman who let a challenge slide.