Gemotions

The accusation hung in the air, thick and suffocating like a humid summer night. Maya stared at Professor Davies, her mind scrambling to process the words. Her jaw felt locked, her breath hitching in her throat. She gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white, as if it could anchor her to reality. She had poured weeks into that research paper, fueled by countless late nights and copious amounts of coffee. Plagiarism? The very idea was a venomous barb.

“But… but I wrote it,” she managed, her voice a fragile thread.

A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in. The vibrant posters advertising university events appeared blurred, their cheerful messages mocking her.