The discount felt like a gift. But maybe it was also a trap. A beautiful, velvet-lined trap that whispered: You belong here , while the rest of his life quietly fell apart.

Ellie finally looked at him. Her expression was softer than usual. “Leo, you told me last week you couldn’t afford your textbook for Directing II.”

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Now, at twenty-two, he was a broke theatre student at the University of Toronto. His bank account was a running joke among his friends: $14.37 on a good Tuesday. Rent was due. Coffee was a luxury. But the hunger for live performance never left him. It just got more expensive.