Author's note: Can we please get this chapter to 100 votes?

~Marginal Utility~
Varun Reddy

May 7th 4:45PM

I asked Tabassum to be my girlfriend in front of Mom today. Obviously I didn't share the details of our past with her. She said she'll think about it. I really hope she says yes. If she refuses I don't know what I'll do. I don't think there's anyone I trust enough with my mom's health and well-being.

Room 418.

I checked my phone again to make sure I was at the correct room.

A few girls passing by shot me curious glances, whispering to each other as they craned their necks, watching me until they vanished into a room at the end of the hallway.

Tugging at the sleeves of my t-shirt and fixing my glasses, I took a deep breath. I knocked on the door. Once. Twice. Right as I was about to knock the third time, the door creaked open.

"Hi! Good evening," she chirped, opening the door for me. She looked different, dressed in a black tank top and leggings. The casual attire caught me off guard, so unlike her usual classroom appearance. I swallowed hard, trying to maintain eye contact.

"Hi," I mumbled, entering her room. The words barely made it past my lips. Unlike my dull dorm room, hers was a plethora of colors. Streamers, fake lighting and plants, pictures strung on every side of the wall along with stickers and posters of quotes.The vibrancy was almost dizzying. A giant teddy bear on the bed made me stop in my stride. I was worried about accidentally damaging the walls and having to pay extra, but Sanjana clearly had no such reservations.

I had to make sure I was seeing things correctly. On one wall, there were six small shelves, each shelf lined with more than three rows of nail polishes. My eyebrows shot up in surprise. No wonder she rotated her nail colors so often—sometimes even twice in a single day. How much did she spend on them? I found myself mentally calculating the cost.

"You look... nice," she said, closing the door. There was a hint of surprise in her voice that made me even more self-conscious.

"Should we start?" I asked, shrugging off my backpack and placing it on the floor.

"Of course," she said with a small pout, her lower lip jutting out slightly. Her textbooks and writing supplies were already strewn on the bed. She settled on the bed, crossing her legs, and looked at me to see if I wanted to sit with her, but instead I dragged a chair by her study table for myself. As I was doing that, I noticed a picture of a woman with two young children. The woman's resemblance to Sanjana was striking, and I found myself staring longer than I intended.

"Mom," she supplied as I settled in the chair. "Pretty, isn't she? Who all are in your family?" she asked. She placed a pillow on her lap and wiggled her eyebrows. "Mom? Dad? Brother? Sister? Aunt? Uncle? Pet?"

"Let's start with Marginal Utility," I said, my voice flat as I flipped open my textbook.

Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped slightly as she stared at me, looking sad. "Wait...are you an orphan?"

"Utility is just a term that economists–" I began, my finger tracing the lines in the book.

She grunted in frustration. "Why are you being like this?" she asked, with a pout, her arms crossing over her chest. "I was just being nice and trying to make conversation."

Was this how she always got her way? By acting cute? "It's just me and my mom," I murmured, twisting the pen in my hand.

"And, dad?" she pressed, leaning forward slightly.

My jaw clenched painfully. "Remember those ground rules we discussed in the morning?"

She nodded enthusiastically, her ponytail bouncing. "No phones and pay attention to the material."

"Add no asking personal questions to the list," I said, my voice stern.

"Wow! Aren't you a bunch of sunshine?" she grumbled, leaning back against the wall.
"And you are a terrible learner," I mumbled, my eyes fixed on the textbook "Now, can we start studying please?"

Sanjana picked out the most ridiculous notebook I'd ever seen, covered in pastel colors and big-eyed cartoon animals. The whole thing looked like it was designed for a child, not something a grown adult would use. Then she grabbed a sparkly pink pen, tapping it against her chin as she waited for me to continue. As she did, I noticed her nails were painted a metallic blue, and for a moment, I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her antics.

"Marginal utility in economics refers to the additional satisfaction or benefit a consumer derives from consuming one more unit of a good or service," I began, reading from the textbook in my lap. When I finished the definition, I looked up at Sanjana, who seemed completely lost. Her expression was blank, her focus more on the ridiculous stationery than anything I was saying.

I glanced over at her wall of nail polishes, an idea forming in my mind. "Which one is your favorite?" I asked, nodding toward the shelves.

She jumped off the bed with surprising enthusiasm, the sweet scent of her perfume hitting me so hard it almost made me sneeze. I managed to hold it in. "This purple one," she said, holding up a bottle. Then she hesitated. "No, actually this light yellow... no, I lied, this sparkly pink is my favorite." Even as she said it, her eyes kept scanning the row of nail polishes, probably looking for yet another favorite.

It was a mistake. I shouldn't have asked her to pick just one. Standing up, I went over to her and grabbed the sparkly pink bottle from her hand. The moment our fingers brushed, I felt a small jolt of electricity zap between us. It startled me enough that I mumbled, "Let's just use this one as an example," and quickly walked back to my seat, rubbing my hand on my pants. If she noticed my reaction, she didn't say anything.

I took a deep breath as I sat down again, trying to refocus. "Okay, imagine this. The first time you used this polish, you were probably very satisfied with your purchase because it was new, and you loved how it looked."

She nodded, shifting on the bed to find a more comfortable position.

"But," I continued, "The next time you used it, you probably still liked it, but maybe not as much as the first time. The more you use the shade, the less extra satisfaction you get from it. That's what we call diminishing marginal utility."

She frowned, still appearing confused. "But what if I love it every time I use it? I change my nail polish based on my mood, so it always feels fresh."

"It's not that you won't love it," I explained patiently, "but the additional satisfaction—the utility—decreases with each use. Think about it like this: You're really excited about using the nail polish at first, but after a few times, it's not as thrilling because you've gotten used to it."

When she still looked a bit confused, I leaned in closer."Let's use another example. Chocolate." I pointed at the box of Ferrero Rocher on her side table. "You might love the first piece, but by the time you finish the whole box, you're not as excited about each piece as you were about the first one."

"I can't finish the whole box," she replied, her eyes widening. "Do you know how many calories those things have? I'd have to work... Never mind. Continue," she mumbled, leaning back against the giant teddy bear on her bed.

"The principle still applies—each additional piece of chocolate gives you less satisfaction than the one before."

Her eyes lit up with realization. "Oh! So, like, if I keep using the same polish, I'll eventually get bored, and it won't make me as happy as it did the first time?"

"Yes, exactly," I said, relieved that she was finally getting it. "That's diminishing marginal utility."

She seemed to think about this for a moment, then her eyes drifted back to her collection. "What if I switch to a different color each time? Then I won't get bored!"

"Well, that's where variety comes in," I explained. "Changing colors can keep your overall satisfaction higher because you're not overusing one color. But within each individual color, the marginal utility still decreases the more you use it."

She smiled brightly, clearly satisfied with her newfound understanding. "So, switching colors is like... refreshing my utility?"

"Something like that," I said with a nod. "It's like balancing your satisfaction across different options to maintain your overall happiness."

She looked at her collection again, her expression thoughtful. "I think I get it now. But what if I have a favorite color that I never get tired of?"

I shrugged. "Well, then you might be the exception to the rule. But generally, people tend to experience diminishing marginal utility, even with their favorites. Most humans crave variety and new experiences, even in the most mundane parts of life."

"What kind of variety do you crave in your life?" she asked, her voice laced with a smug smile that made me pause.

I raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to get 80% or not?"

She huffed, clearly annoyed by my deflection. "Just so you know, you're the biggest saddu on this campus, and that's including Tyrantjay."

"Tyrantjay?"

"It's a nickname for... Actually, forget it." She waved her hand dismissively. "If I tell you, you're probably going to complain about me." Shaking her head, she returned her attention to her notebook, her lips twisted in a half-smile.

I watched, both horrified and amused, as she underlined, highlighted, and changed pen colors with each note she took in that ridiculous notebook. The level of detail was over the top, even for her.

For the next hour and a half, I explained as many concepts as possible, using everything in her room as an example. Despite her tendency to get easily distracted and ask the most bizarrely stupid questions, she managed to grasp most of the ideas. She wasn't the smartest student I'd ever helped, but she wasn't the dumbest either.

At some point, she let out a loud yawn, stretching her arms above her head. I took it as a sign to wrap things up for the day. The last thing I wanted was for her to get overwhelmed and stop studying altogether. "Let's start again tomorrow."

Sanjana gave me a sleepy nod. "Okay." She hopped off the bed as I began packing my bag. Just as I zipped it up, she dropped something into it. I caught a glimpse of what looked like an envelope.

I shot her a questioning look, but she just grinned. "Your fees."

"Thanks," I mumbled, rising from the chair. I slung the bag over my shoulder and headed for the door. "See you tomorrow. On time."

Her grin widened, and she gave me a lazy salute. "Yes, sir. On time."

I walked into my dorm room and sighed at the sight of my bed. I was exhausted. Dropping my bag on the bed, I immediately changed out of my clothes. As I reached for my bag to move it aside, I remembered the envelope. My fees.

Unzipping the bag, I pulled out the envelope. It didn't feel like it was just cash inside. Curious, I opened it and found a card tucked in alongside the bills.

I plucked out the cash without much thought and quickly closed the card, sliding it back into the envelope.

I stood there, fingers hovering over the envelope as I contemplated tossing it in the trash. It was just a silly card, after all. I shook my head, telling myself it didn't matter, and threw the envelope in the trash.

The cash, however, I carefully placed in my suitcase with the rest of my important belongings. I laid down on the bed, closing my eyes, hoping sleep would come easily. But it didn't. I tossed and turned, my mind refusing to settle.

With a frustrated sigh, I finally got up and walked back to the trash can. My hand hesitated, but I pulled out the card. I read the ridiculous message inside, scoffing at how trivial it all seemed. But still, something held me back.

I threw the card away again, only to immediately retrieve it once more. My chest tightened as I realized I couldn't just let it go. Maybe because it was one the few times I had received something without me asking for it.

Opening my suitcase again, I carefully placed the envelope inside, alongside the cash. It's just a keepsake that I could laugh at when I was rich and successful.