The Space Spoon

“Hello, Mum…”

Michael finally picked up his phone after ignoring the call five times. Today was not a day for distractions. It was his graduation day—one he had been waiting for with bated breath—and even more, he was out ring-shopping for his girlfriend, Jane Scott.

Yes. Michael was going to propose to her.

He had planned it for months, rehearsed the speech in his head a hundred times, imagined the applause, the tears, the kiss… everything. But this persistent call. This nonstop buzzing.

He sighed and finally looked at the screen. It wasn’t one of his employers from his menial jobs, nor any of the students who treated him like an errand boy at Moons University. It was his mother. Cristy Scofield.

He hesitated, then answered.

“Oh, my sweet boy, Michael!” came his mother’s cheerful voice, flooding his ears with warmth he hadn’t felt in years. “How are you doing, son?”

Michael exhaled, leaning on a nearby lamppost. “I’m good, Mum. How about you?”

“Come on, son. Today’s about you, not me! Your father and I are so proud. We can’t wait to have you home tomorrow. You’ve done what no Scofield man has done in years—you’ve earned your name. You’re ready to inherit your rightful kingdom.”

Michael chuckled faintly, though there was bitterness in his voice. “Kingdom? I’ve survived four years without a penny from the family fortune. If I’ve made it this far on my own, maybe I don’t need the so-called kingdom anymore.”

He remembered clearly that day four years ago. His father had stood before him, eyes hard and voice like iron:

“Every male child of the Scofield family must survive on his own during his university years—no wealth, no help, no inheritance. Only those who prove they’re not weak can claim their share of the family’s fortune.”

Cristy’s voice softened, pulling him back to the present. “Michael, you know if it were up to me, you’d never have to suffer a single day. But look on the bright side—now everyone knows you’re not lazy. You’ve proven you can stand on your own.”

Michael sighed again, his heart tightening with unspoken emotions. His mother was right. The hardship had shaped him—taught him humility, endurance, responsibility.

“Alright, my darling,” she continued gently. “We’ll send your jet tomorrow to pick you up. Oh, and your accounts have all been unblocked. You can finally access your funds again. Congratulations, my boy.”

The line clicked. Call ended.

Michael held the phone to his ear a moment longer, almost afraid to breathe.

Then—

Buzz!

Buzz!

Buzz!

Notifications flooded his phone in a storm of beeps and vibrations. Messages from every bank account he’d ever owned. He scrolled through them, and his eyes froze on one balance screen:

Account Balance: $50,000,000,000.

And that was his least funded account.

Michael’s lips parted in disbelief. His pulse raced.

“Oh, Jane…” he murmured. “You’ve waited long enough for me to rise. You deserve the world.”

He dialed his personal shopper immediately. “Hello. Send the ultra-limited Caesar bracelet—yes, the $100 million one. Add the Chanel bag and shoes, the limited edition—$90 million, I believe. Oh, and include that revolutionary solar-powered beauty kit—the anti-aging line worth a billion dollars. Deliver them to Jane Scott. My fiancée.”

***

Later That Day—Moons University Campus

The graduation ceremony had just ended. The air shimmered with flashlights and laughter. Rich kids—heirs and heiresses—gathered in their designer gowns, taking photos that screamed luxury and legacy.

Amid all the glamour walked one man who didn’t fit in.

Michael Scofield.

His rented graduation robe hung loosely on his frame. It was wrinkled, faded, and two sizes too large. He’d paid twenty dollars for it—barely affordable even now. Yet, none of that mattered. He wasn’t here to outshine anyone. He was here for her.

“Jane!” Michael called out, searching through the glittering crowd. No response.

He called again, louder. “Jane Scott!”

He spotted her finally—a vision of beauty, standing under the campus arch, surrounded by admirers. Her golden hair gleamed under the sunlight, her lips curved in a perfect, practiced smile.

Michael’s breath caught. His heart softened instantly. That’s her. My Jane.

He ran up, almost breathless. “Jane, I’ve been loo—”

She turned. Her expression froze—not in joy, but irritation. “What do you want, Michael?”

Her tone sliced through him like a knife. Around them, the crowd quieted. Whispers rose.

Michael, oblivious to the laughter, dropped to one knee. From his pocket, he pulled out a small ring—simple, silver, without a box. His hand trembled, but his voice did not.

“Jane Scott,” he said, eyes glistening, “will you marry me?”

A hush fell.

Then—

Laughter.

Jane’s laughter.

She stared at him in disbelief, her perfect eyebrows arched. “You? Proposing to me?” She snatched the ring from his hand and inspected it like it was a bug. “A two-thousand-dollar ring? Michael, this is… pathetic.”

“It’s all I could afford right now,” he said quietly, still kneeling. “But I promise, I’ll give you something worthy of you soon.”

Jane scoffed. “Michael, there are things you weren’t born with—and no matter how hard you try, you’ll never have them.”

The crowd erupted in gasps and whispers.

She turned around slowly, showing off her dress, her jewelry, her flawless perfection. “Look at me, Michael. Do you really think you deserve this? Can your stupid love even feed me?”

The laughter grew louder.

Jane lifted her Gucci handbag and waved it inches from his face. “This bag costs two hundred thousand dollars—more than your entire existence. Can you even dream of affording it?”

Michael’s throat tightened. He wanted to tell her—to scream—that he could buy a thousand of those bags now. That in his pocket was the wealth of empires. But before he could speak, Jane smirked coldly.

“And my new boyfriend,” she added, raising her chin, “you’re not even worthy to breathe the same air as him.”

A sudden commotion stirred the crowd. Students gasped; some even shrieked.

“Oh my God!” One girl whispered. “Is that… Danny Franchester?”

The man himself stepped into view—tall, handsome, radiating wealth. The heir to the Franchester empire. Every woman’s dream, every man’s envy.

Jane smiled smugly and slipped her arm through his. “Now this is the kind of man I deserve.”

Michael stood frozen, staring at her, the laughter echoing in his ears, the ring still clutched in his trembling hand.