On the Brink
Cruz stood alone in her dorm room, a chill creeping through the half-open window. Though the sun had climbed high, flooding the space with light, Cruz’s hands trembled as she carefully adjusted her laptop on a stack of textbooks. She was about to begin the most important Zoom call of her life—a final interview with UNOCHA. She’d pinned all her hopes on a Geneva position, which she believed might be her only shot at forging a secure future and escaping the painful aftermath of her temporary breakup with Aaliyah.
Though finals were officially over and graduation just a day away, Cruz felt no sense of celebration. Instead, a tightness coiled in her stomach. If I fail here, I have nothing lined up. She swallowed hard, recalling the swirl of emotions that had dominated her final semester: heartbreak, academic pressure, near-scandal tension, and the quiet sense of betrayal that overshadowed everything after her argument with Aaliyah. At least if I get the Geneva job, I can start fresh somewhere else.
She inhaled shakily, forcing a calm she didn’t feel. You’ve studied for this. You’re prepared. She wore a simple, professional blouse—rarely used but pressed meticulously for this call. A battered but neat notepad sat at her elbow with talking points: NGO frameworks, international coordination, references from her class research. She hoped her voice wouldn’t quiver.
The laptop chimed, announcing the call. Cruz hurried to accept, summoning a polite smile she’d rehearsed in the mirror. The screen flickered to reveal Janine, her contact at UNOCHA, bright-eyed and friendly as always.
“Hello, Cruz!” Janine greeted, voice carrying a faint accent. “So glad we could speak again. How’re you feeling today?”
Cruz mustered a nod, though her throat felt parched. “I’m good—excited and nervous, if I’m honest.”
Janine’s warm laugh echoed in the tiny dorm. “No need to be. We’ve been very impressed so far. This call is just to finalize a few details about the posting.” Her gaze flicked to some papers on her desk. “Shall we begin?”
Cruz’s heart hammered. Yes, it’s real. She forced a breath, squaring her shoulders. “Absolutely. I’m ready.”
--
For the next twenty minutes, Cruz fielded questions about her academic background, her passion for NGO work, her ability to handle logistic and analytical tasks. She spoke with the confidence of someone who’d spent countless library hours dissecting Middle Eastern and global humanitarian issues. Aaliyah helped me so much. The thought pricked her chest, but she kept her composure.
Janine nodded often, jotting notes. “Wonderful detail,” she’d say, or “Excellent analysis.” It buoyed Cruz’s spirits, making her believe she’d truly secured the role. Finally, something is going right.
Then Janine’s tone shifted, her smile turning apologetic. “Before we wrap up, Cruz… I do have some unfortunate news. The specific role you applied for—our Geneva coordinator slot—has been filled.” She paused, sympathy clear on her face. “I’m sorry. An internal staffer requested a transfer there, and internal moves take precedence.”
Cruz’s heart froze, the words filled echoing in her mind. No… She felt everything unravel: the future she’d pictured, the sense of escape from heartbreak. Her chin dipped, voice faltering. “Oh,” she managed, dread sinking in. “I… see.”
Janine’s expression softened. “I know this must be disappointing. You impressed us, but the Geneva position was snapped up quickly. I sincerely apologize—it wasn’t our plan to let you down.”
Cruz forced a polite, wobbly nod, her stomach twisting. All that hope—for nothing. Her pulse hammered with rising panic. I lost Aaliyah, and now this chance is gone too?
“However,” Janine continued, rustling papers. “We don’t want to lose you entirely, Cruz. Let me emphasize that we loved your profile—especially your strong grasp of NGO coordination and your research. That’s why I have an alternative to propose.”
Cruz’s breath caught. An alternative? She edged forward, the slightest flicker of hope rising again. “Yes?”
Janine’s face brightened. “There’s an immediate junior role at our New York HQ. It’s not the same as the Geneva position, but the responsibilities align with your skill set: local humanitarian outreach, drafting policy briefs, bridging with domestic NGOs. We’d like to offer you that role, if you’re open to it.”
A swirl of shock cascaded through Cruz. New York HQ? The idea of staying in NYC to do humanitarian work had never crossed her mind, especially after hearing so much about Geneva. “You— you mean I can still work for UNOCHA… just here?”
Janine beamed. “Yes, exactly. The salary scale and benefits match the Geneva posting, minus the relocation factor. We see huge potential in keeping you local. Are you interested?”
Relief and disbelief sparked tears in Cruz’s eyes. I’m not losing everything. She found her voice, trembling with gratitude. “I— yes. I’d love that. Thank you so much. I accept.”
They chatted for another few minutes about paperwork, start dates, and an impending orientation at the UNOCHA New York offices. Cruz answered in a daze, the adrenaline of near-disaster overshadowed by this abrupt victory. I can have a new beginning without leaving the city.
The call ended with Janine praising her potential once more, promising official documents soon. Cruz clicked out of the Zoom window, staring at her reflection in the now-black screen. I have a job… in New York… with UNOCHA. Excitement flooded her, momentarily drowning the heartbreak of the last couple of weeks. She closed her laptop, letting out a shaky laugh. “I did it,” she whispered. “I’m not going to Geneva, but I’m not losing this dream either.”
A fleeting pang reminded her of Aaliyah—who believed Cruz might vanish overseas. I’ll have to clarify. But first, Bobby. She leaped from the chair, half-running into the hallway in search of her best friend.
--
Down the hall, Bobby’s door stood ajar. Cruz barged in, heart pounding with leftover adrenaline. “Bobby!” she exclaimed, voice high with excitement.
Bobby jerked upright, dropping the phone she’d been scrolling on. “Jesus, Manny, you scared me.” But she froze, reading Cruz’s wide, teary grin. “What happened? Good or bad?”
Cruz flung her arms around Bobby in a sudden hug, words tumbling out. “The Geneva spot was taken, so I panicked, but then they offered me a job here, in the New York HQ. I said yes!” She let out a near-hysterical laugh. “I got the job, Bob. I have a real job!”
Bobby’s eyes lit up. She laughed, hugging Cruz tightly. “Oh my God, Manny, that’s incredible! That’s huge!” She pulled back, scanning Cruz’s face. “They’re letting you stay in the city? That’s perfect.”
Cruz nodded, tears pricking her eyes. “I was terrified of leaving everything. But now— I can keep my life here, start working for UNOCHA. I’m so relieved.”
Bobby grabbed Cruz’s hands, bouncing on her toes. “We have to celebrate. This is big. The track bros, me, Two Cups… Everyone’s gotta know.” She paused, quickly evaluating Cruz’s expression. “But you also gotta tell Ms. TA, right? Let her know you’re not going to Switzerland. That might change… things.”
Cruz’s smile faltered. She recalled the argument with Aaliyah, how they’d parted on uncertain terms. She’s under the impression I’m leaving. “Right,” she said softly. “But we’re… not exactly on speaking terms right now.”
Bobby patted her shoulder. “At least text her. This is news she’d want. Maybe it helps you both figure stuff out.”
--
Buoyed by adrenaline, Cruz fished out her phone, thumbs racing across the screen. I’ll share the joy. She typed:
[Cruz]: I GOT THE JOB!
She paused, re-reading. She realized belatedly she hadn’t specified it was the New York role, but her swirling excitement overshadowed the detail. We can talk details later. She hit send.
A ping came almost immediately:
[Aaliyah]: Omg that’s incredible!!! Congratulations, Cruz. I’m so proud of you.
The message glowed on Cruz’s screen, warming her heart. She typed:
[Cruz]: Thank you. Means a lot.
But her mind still flickered: I never told her I’m staying in NYC. With Bobby yammering in the background about hooking up a party soon, and her phone lighting with more texts from classmates, she was swept along. I’ll clarify soon.
--
Far across campus, Aaliyah hovered over her laptop, finalizing the last few grades for her undergrad students. The abrupt chime on her phone revealed Cruz’s text: I GOT THE JOB!
A swirl of conflicting emotions flared. Her breath caught, recalling Cruz’s dream of Geneva. So she’s leaving… she’s truly going. Her heart clenched with pride for Cruz’s success, overshadowed by the sense of losing her. She typed a congratulatory reply, tears burning the back of her eyes.
Setting the phone aside, she slumped in her chair. She imagined Cruz packing to depart for Europe soon, forging a new path without her. The ache in her chest grew, regret surging: We parted ways because of fear and misunderstandings. Now it felt final. She’ll be gone. I have to accept it.
She let out a long, tremulous breath. “At least she got what she deserves,” she whispered. A bright future. She blinked away tears, forcing her focus back to the grade portal. No more stalling. She hammered the keys, ignoring the pang that told her she’d let something precious slip away.
--
Hours later, dusk settled over campus, with gatherings and small celebrations popping up all around. It was the eve of graduation, the last big day. While many seniors planned to meet family for ceremonies, Cruz had no family traveling to see her. She mostly expected the track bros, Bobby, maybe a cameo from Coach Joe.
But tonight, she intended to celebrate her new job. The track group had arranged a meet-up at their favorite bar, the place Two Cups bartended. Bobby pulled Cruz along, refusing to let her mope. “We’re going. You need to let off steam,” Bobby insisted. Cruz complied, excitement still buzzing in her veins, though undercut by the silent longing for Aaliyah.
They arrived at the bar—a dimly lit hangout with neon beer signs, scuffed wooden floors, and the comforting smell of fried snacks. Tucker, Randy, and Tex cheered when they saw Cruz. Shots lined the table, courtesy of the house, courtesy of Two Cups—who strolled over, grinning wide.
“Heard you bagged a fancy job with some international org, Manny!” Two Cups teased. “Couldn’t happen to a better kid. Cheers!”
Bobby lifted her shot. “To Cruz, saving the world one NGO mission at a time.”
Cruz blushed, lifting her glass. “Easy, it’s just a junior position. But thank you.”
They clinked glasses, the liquor burning warmly down Cruz’s throat, flooding her with a sense of camaraderie she’d sorely missed. She sank into a booth with them, letting the bar’s lively chatter wash away the day’s tension. For a brief, shining moment, she forgot heartbreak, the swirling family drama in Aaliyah’s life, and the near-scandal with Asif.
--
Between rounds of drinks and bar food, the track crew pestered Cruz about her next steps. Tucker teased about her relocating to Switzerland, hooking up with “some fancy diplomat.” She only laughed, not bothering to correct him. They were all too rowdy to care about details, anyway.
Randy proposed a final toast: “To Manny—world traveler—though we’ll miss you around here.” Cruz offered a tight-lipped smile, letting them assume she might be leaving. The fleeting reminder that Aaliyah, too, believed the same stung. I’ll tell them tomorrow. She wasn’t ready to spark a conversation in the middle of this boisterous gathering.
They parted around midnight, each heading to separate crash spots. Cruz thanked Two Cups with a fierce hug, promising to keep visiting. She and Bobby trudged back to the dorm, slightly buzzed, the night air crisp against their flushed faces.
At her dorm room door, Bobby hugged Cruz, whispering, “Proud of you, Manny. Tomorrow’s graduation. Another big day.”
Cruz’s chest clenched. “Yeah. Another big day.” She forced a light tone. “Night, Bob.”
--
While Cruz was out celebrating, Aaliyah stayed home, finishing the last batch of final grades for Asif’s course. She double-checked every detail with meticulous care, not wanting any errors pinned on her. The day’s swirl of conflicting emotions pressed down: Cruz’s triumphal text, the sorrow of believing Cruz would soon depart, her own unresolved familial constraints.
At nearly 1 a.m., she submitted the final grade roster. She leaned back, exhaustion tugging at her eyelids. It’s done. Now she was officially free from TA duties—Cruz was no longer her student. That taboo no longer restricted them, yet heartbreak lingered.
She scrolled absentmindedly through the university’s events page. Tomorrow was graduation day. In a flash, she recalled Cruz’s mention of the ceremony—3 p.m. A pang of longing hit. She thinks no one will be there for her. The memory of how alone Cruz felt tugged at Aaliyah’s heart. Even if she’s leaving for Geneva, I can’t let her graduate without someone cheering her on.
Impulsively, she decided. I’ll go. She pictured slipping into the crowd unnoticed, just to clap for Cruz, to show her that someone she loved—still loved—supported her. The fight remained unresolved, but maybe her presence could be a small, silent gift. She may never know I’m there… but I’ll do it anyway.
She shut her laptop, breath shaking. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll go see her graduate, even if we aren’t on the best terms. Even if she leaves soon after.” Her mind churned, imagining the bittersweet image: Cruz crossing the stage, collecting her diploma with no family in the stands. Aaliyah’s throat constricted. I’ll be there, for her, just once more.
--
In her dorm room, Cruz collapsed onto her bed, half-dressed, the faint burn of alcohol in her veins. She stared at the ceiling, mind drifting from the job offer to tomorrow’s commencement to Aaliyah’s solemn text, praising her from afar. She thinks I’m leaving. A dull ache undercut the warmth of her new job success. I want to fix it, but I can’t push her.
Across the city, Aaliyah lay on her couch, unblinking. She pictured the ceremony, the swirl of proud families, Cruz likely overshadowed by track teammates. A pang of guilt and longing followed. We parted in anger. But I’ll watch from the stands, letting her see I care.
Neither woman could sleep well. The city lights glowed outside their windows, an unspoken promise of tomorrow’s turning points. Unbeknownst to them, they shared a common hope: that the graduation day might spark a shift. That maybe, in the hush of the post-ceremony crowd, they’d find a moment for truth.
But for now, each drifted in lonely reflection, hearts still tethered by unseen threads of love, fear, and the potential for a brand new start.