My Toxin

Chapter 36

Two years had passed since that unforgettable night in Paris, and now we were in the final stretch of our university journey. Life had shifted in ways neither of us could have predicted. Therapy had deepened our bond, and love had carried us through challenges, but the weight of the future was pressing down harder than ever.

I walked into Marjorie's dorm room and found her at her desk, surrounded by stacks of job applications and open textbooks. Her back was straight, her posture almost defiant, but the tension in her shoulders gave her away. She glanced up at me, her face softening just a little, but I could see the storm of thoughts swirling behind her eyes.

"You're working too hard again," I said, pulling up a chair beside her.

"I have to," she replied, gesturing to the applications. "If I don't figure this out, my parents will."

Her voice carried the frustration she rarely let show. Marjorie's parents had always been clear about their expectations—a corporate law career, stability, prestige. But I knew her heart. She didn't want to spend her life chasing contracts and mergers. She wanted to fight for people who needed someone in their corner, to make a difference in ways her parents couldn't understand.

"And what do you want?" I asked, leaning forward to meet her gaze.

She hesitated. "I want to do human rights law, Alex. But it's... complicated."

It wasn't complicated. It was fear. Fear of disappointing the people who'd shaped her life. I reached out, taking her hand. "Then do it. Forget what they want. This is your life, Marjorie."

Her lips parted as if to argue, but instead, she let out a long breath. "I don't know if I'm brave enough."

"You're the bravest person I know," I said firmly. "But if you're not ready to decide, then don't. We'll figure it out together."

She gave me a small smile, and for a moment, the tension eased. "What about you? What's the heir to the Cavendish empire planning for his big debut?"

I smirked at her sarcasm but felt the familiar knot in my stomach. "You mean the private bank my father keeps reminding me I was 'born to run'? Let's just say I'm not rushing into anything."

She raised an eyebrow. "So, what are you thinking?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I just know I want to do something that feels... real. Something that's mine."

Marjorie's expression softened, and she squeezed my hand. "Then don't rush into anything either."

That's how we found ourselves sitting together in the common room later that night, talking about what life after graduation could look like. The idea started small—a joke about running away, about leaving it all behind. But as we talked, it became something real. A gap year. Time to breathe, to explore, to figure out what we wanted without the noise of expectations.

"You mean it?" she asked, her eyes hopeful.

"Of course I do," I said. "We'll travel, live a little. And when we're ready, we'll figure out the rest."

For the first time in weeks, Marjorie smiled like she meant it. "Okay," she said. "Let's do it."

The next few months flew by as we planned for graduation and our upcoming adventure. Marjorie's parents were surprisingly quiet about her future, a fact I wasn't about to question. They didn't know I'd had a very blunt conversation with them about the pressure they'd been putting on her. I wasn't sorry for it. She deserved to make her own choices, and I wasn't going to let anyone take that from her.

On the day of graduation, Marjorie looked stunning in her cap and gown, her confidence shining through as we walked hand in hand to the ceremony. The weight of our hard work, the years of stress and triumphs, seemed to lift as we received our diplomas. For a moment, the future didn't matter—only the pride in each other's eyes and the knowledge that we'd made it.

Later that evening, after the celebrations and goodbyes, we stood together on the edge of campus, looking out at the place that had been our home for so long.

"We did it," she said softly, her fingers intertwined with mine.

"We did," I echoed. "And now we get to do something even better."

She turned to me, her eyes bright with anticipation. "What's that?"

"Anything we want, Princess," I said with a grin. "Anything we want."

As we walked away from the campus for the last time, I felt a sense of freedom I hadn't expected. The road ahead was unknown, but for the first time, I wasn't afraid. We had each other, and that was all we needed to take the next step into our future.