“I know,” he replied.
“You know?”
“They notified recommenders this morning.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“It was your news to receive.”
I cried on a campus bench while students walked past, unaware my life had just opened.
Later, Professor Bell explained what came next. The fellowship would cover Northlake and give me enough stipend support to cut my work hours. More importantly, Hawthorne Fellows could apply to spend their final year at partner universities.
He emailed me the list.
I opened it that night in my room.
Briarwood University was halfway down the page.
I stared at the name.
Briarwood. Amber’s school. The elite university my father had called a smart investment. The place meant to maximize her potential. The place worth paying for because Amber stood out and I did not.
I felt no rush of revenge.
Only stillness.
A door had appeared in a wall I had spent years walking around.
