Malik hesitated, then took the paper. It felt light, too light to carry anything real. He unfolded it slowly. His eyes scanned the words, then stopped, then went back, reading it again, slower this time.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice quieter now.
"It's an offer," William said. "Full scholarship. Private STEM academy in Atlanta. Room, board—everything covered."
Malik looked up. The hospital hallway seemed to fade for a second. "School?" he said.
William nodded. "Not just school," he said. "Access. Labs, teachers, resources you don't have here."
Malik stared at the paper again. The words didn't feel real; they felt like something meant for someone else. "You serious?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Why?"
There it was again: that question, always the same, always cutting straight through everything else.
William took a breath. "Because you have something rare," he said.
Malik shook his head immediately. "No, I don't."
"Yes, you do."
"No," Malik repeated, his voice firmer now. "I just fix things."
William stepped closer. "That's not 'just' anything," he said. "You see problems differently. You solve them differently. That's not something you can teach."
Malik's grip tightened on the paper. "Then why me?" he asked. "There's a lot of people out there."
William didn't hesitate this time: "Because most people would have taken the money."
The words landed hard. Malik looked away. "You think that makes me special?" he said.
"I think it makes you someone worth investing in."
Malik's head snapped back toward him. "There it is," he said. "That word."
William frowned slightly. "What word?"
"Investing." The tension in Malik's voice was sharp now. "That's what this is, right?" he said. "You're not helping me. You're investing in me."
William didn't answer immediately, because he knew this mattered. "Both can be true," he said finally.
Malik shook his head. "No," he said. "Not where I come from."