I never wanted to get married; who has time for that? I had my beautiful, gorgeous, lovely, protective best friend Paul Clayton. Didn't need more than that! And I'm poor too; I come from a modest family. Money has always been an issue for me; particularly considering that I decided to become a full-time PhD candidate last year. My life was one of the starving student, and I was content with that.

My long, confusing journey began with a series of very loud beep, beep, beep! Nugh, I rolled around under the pink covers of my double bed; much better than the single bed I had in masters. My pink iPhone alarm was going off, meaning that it was time for me to get up and face the world. Some mornings were better than others; this was a good one. After a moment of grogginess, I was ready to get out of bed, subsequently make that bed, go into the kitchen/living room, set on some morning cartoons and put on a facemask. Cup o'Coffee from Lush; ah, such a good morning one.

I had to teach elementary logic today. As part of my PhD deal with the university, I had to teach one undergrad course every semester. Yay. I had everything written down; I just had to find it. My apartment was small, and I do mean small. One bedroom with a bed and dresser, a shared kitchen and living room with a two-person table, and a tiny bathroom in between the main room and bedroom. Despite the size, I adored my flat though; this was my dream place. And since I never considered getting married or having kids, I could stay here long term. It was absolutely perfect for a single woman like myself. The best thing about my apartment was the location however. It was overlooking the sea outside; the seawall was right across the road. How lucky was that?! And it didn't cost me an arm and a leg to live here either. I really won the jackpot with this place.

I managed to eat a handful of peas, a banana, and two chocolate chip cookies for breakfast thanks to my nightly planning. In order to save time, I always wrote down what I was going to eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner the following day. It worked! With one last large sip of green tea- I don't drink coffee ironically- I cleaned off my face, grabbed my worn-out backpack, and headed out the door. I lived on the second floor, so it wasn't hard to get down. My flat was about a forty minute walk from the university, or a twenty minute bus ride; on nice mornings such as this, I usually walked.

On the way, I messaged Paul. We went to the same university; hell, we'd been going to the same school since junior high- we made sure it was that way. I couldn't imagine living in a city without him. He both made my life a mess and kept it organized at the same time. Now I know what you're thinking: sounds like you love Paul, Anastasia. I do! I sincerely do love him; he's been my best friend since high school. He's irreplaceable to me.

You: no, no, not that kind of love; we meant that you're "in love" with him. Well, that's a bit trickier. I used to really like Paul; like, "like" like. God, I had the biggest crush on his all throughout high school. I actually confessed my feelings to him at the end of grade twelve too. That… didn't go over well. I can still remember the tears falling down my face. Paul said that he loved me too….. as his sister. That's something no girl wants to hear from her long-time crush.

I'll admit that it took me a long time to get over him, but I decided that our friendship was more important than my bruised feelings. By the middle of undergrad I was completely over Paul and saw him purely as a friend; he was my friend. The best friend anyone could ask for. Now I couldn't see us being any different; I certainly couldn't picture us dating each other. That being said, I wasn't sure how Paul felt about me in these later years. He never dated anyone else, instead electing to spend all his free time with me. But he never asked for sex or anything; he never even tried to kiss me. And he's not gay either; I know that. We were happy however- what's wrong with that? I didn't need a husband when I had him so close to me.

Or so I thought.

[Triple A: Hi Paul! On my way to uni. U wanna meet up 4 lunch later?] Being poor students, we always brought our lunches to school. Paul didn't check his phone often, so it took a few minutes for him to reply. [Bestest Friend Ever: Hey Ana. Sorry, babe; I can't today. Got a report to look over] Awe, too bad. [Triple A: That's ok. Good luck on ur report!] [Bestest Friend Ever: I'll be at the university until late tonight. Text me later when you can, ok?] I loved it when he asked me to text him; I don't know why it made me so happy. But it did- it really did. [Triple A: K! Have a good day] [Bestest Friend Ever: You too]

Teaching went as well as expected. If you know anything about logic, you might be familiar with argument structure. Some of these kids certainly weren't. And yes, I know they're not "kids"; but when you're a PhD candidate all undergrads look like babies. You can't say anything if you're an undergrad now; you'll feel very different in five or six years, trust me. Here's an example of what my class was like.

"So you put your premises, P, in a line like this. And then you draw a line under the last P and put your conclusion, C, at the bottom," I explained to the class of forty first-years while drawing a demonstration on the white board. With a smile, I turned to face everyone. "Any questions?" I had to ask; there were always questions. One kid raised his hand up into the air.

"Why does the C go after the P?" He asked me. "Because it's the conclusion of your argument," I answered as politely and professionally as possible. You can't ever tell a student that their question is stupid, ever. He frowned. "Yeah, but why does the C go at the bottom?" "B-because the conclusion comes at the end; that's the whole point of your argument. It wouldn't make sense for your conclusion to go anywhere else but the end." Of course he didn't look convinced. "Why can't P go at the bottom? I don't see why P has to go before C," there was attitude in his voice now. "…. Because your premises lead up to your conclusion. Think of it like 2 + 2 = 4; you couldn't write it 2 + 4 = 2, that wouldn't make sense. Both 2s must go before the 4 in order for your equation to work." The kid just looked at me with a deadpan stare. "I still don't get why C goes at the end; this isn't math."

Welp! That was a fun day of teaching. I shouldn't complain; I know other PhD teachers who have it much worse than me. My class really wasn't that bad, and logic is hard for some people; I certainly asked a lot of questions in my first-year courses. That's how it should be, so I'm not going to say a word about it. Besides, it's only one class I'm teaching. It could definitely be worse.

Since Paul was busy, I went straight home after class was done. Well, not right home; I had to stop at Tesco on the way. No joke, I live off twenty pounds a week for food; that's all my funding and budget would allow me. No, I don't have a part-time job while going to school; teaching is my part-time job, and I don't get paid for that. All that means is that I live off simple foods; no Costco for me. I divide my twenty pounds up to five pounds every two days, which means I'm going to the store very often. This time I got sugar snap peas, milk, bakewells, a thing of microwave mashed potatoes, and necturines. That'll last me for the next two days; yay me.

I got home, tossing my backpack straight onto the floor. Then I rummaged through it, pulling out my groceries first. My phone was next. One thing about me is I'm not constantly on my phone- I'm like Paul in that regard. That results in a lot of missed calls, emails, and texts. I checked to find two missed calls and voicemails. Oh goodie; I hated voicemails. You only need to get one with bad news once to hate them for eternity. I pressed "play" and put on speaker phone so I could put away my food while listening.

The first was from the university. First Voicemail: Hello Miss Steele. This is the library's special research department. We are calling to remind you of your meeting with us next Monday at 1pm. If you need to change the time or cancel, please give us a call. We look forward to seeing you. Have a good day. BEEP!

No, library; I didn't forget about that appointment. Though it was nice of them to call anyway. I deleted that message before the other started; it was from a number I didn't recognize.

Second Voicemail: Good afternoon, Miss Steele. I am your great uncle's attorney, James Holt. I have some unfortunate news: your great uncle, Georg Wilks, passed away last night.

This made me pause. Great uncle? I didn't even know I had a great uncle; I knew literally nothing from Mom's side of the family. She never talked about her siblings, aunts, or uncles. I don't know why anyone would think to call me about Mom's uncle dying; I never knew he existed. Shouldn't he be contacting Mom or her siblings? I don't get it.

The voicemail continued. Second Voicemail: I am very sorry for your loss. I know this is a hard time for you but if you could please give me a call back when you hear this message. We need to arrange for you to come down to London as soon as possible; hopefully tomorrow, if you can manage it.

I almost dropped the bag of peas I was holding. Me? Go to London? Tomorrow? Only one thought raced over and over in my mind right in that moment.

Wait… what?