Gemotions

The silence in the car was a physical thing, pressing down on Maya. Her dad, usually so chatty, was unusually quiet, his jaw tight. The rejection stung worse than she anticipated. All those years, the sacrifices, the pressure, and now… a simple “not this year.”

She stared out the window, the passing scenery blurring into an indistinct rush of greens and browns. Her knuckles were white, gripping the edge of her seat. The rhythm of the windshield wipers, a steady *swish-swish*, only amplified the hollow ache in her gut.

She couldn’t bring herself to speak, the words stuck in her throat, a bitter lump she couldn’t swallow. Each passing mile felt like another step further away from the dream, further away from everything she’d worked for.