Gemotions

The accusation hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Liam’s palms were slick. Sweat beaded on his forehead, a relentless drip that mirrored the frantic hammering against his ribs. He couldn’t meet Professor Davies’ eyes. Davies' words, “plagiarism… identical phrasing… significant portions…” blurred around him. All he could see was Maya, her radiant smile from the library study session the night before. He’d helped her with the sources, the structure. Had they really used the same phrasing? He’d been lost in the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way she chewed on her lip.

The professor was saying something about consequences. Liam forced himself to focus, to appear composed. His pulse hammered. He wanted to blurt out that he’d copied *everything* if it meant he could be near her again, could hear her laugh. The shame and fear were nothing compared to the phantom feeling of her hand brushing his arm.

He cleared his throat, managed a weak, “I… I’ll need to see the evidence.” His voice cracked. He hoped she wasn’t looking at him.