The house still smelled like fried chicken and lemon cleaner.
Jordan Hunter sat at the old kitchen table, tapping his fingers against the chipped edge while his mother rinsed dishes that were already clean. She only did that when she was nervous.
His father sat in his recliner posture, elbows on the table, staring at the wood like bad news was carved into it.
"Y'all okay?" Jordan asked. "Y'all look like somebody died."
His mother gave a weak laugh. "Don't say that, baby."
His father cleared his throat. "You know we're proud of you, right?"
Jordan forced a smile. "Yes, sir."
"First Hunter to get into medical school," his mother said. "We still can't believe it."
He shrugged. "I just got lucky."
His father frowned. "You worked for this. Don't ever downplay it."
Then his father reached beside his chair and pulled out a thick white envelope. Heavy. Stuffed.
Jordan's heartbeat jumped.
"Open it," his father said quietly.
Jordan hesitated. "What is—"
"Just open it, baby," his mother whispered.
He peeled the flap slowly. Inside were several folded bank statements, a cashier's check… and a smaller envelope with his mother's handwriting.
When he unfolded the first page, his breath caught.
The number didn't even make sense.
"Dad… this can't be right."
"It is," his father said.
His mother wiped her eyes. "We been putting away what we could. Since before you even knew what college was."
Jordan swallowed hard. "Why didn't y'all tell me?"
His father leaned back. "Because we didn't do it for credit. We did it so you wouldn't have to go through what we went through."
His mother cupped his face. "We don't have much to give you, baby. But we have this. Use it right."
Jordan nodded slowly, overwhelmed.
He didn't know it yet… but this moment was the beginning of everything.