Gemotions

"No," she whispered to herself. The evidence was overwhelming, yet she refused to accept it. The author she adored, the one who had guided her own writing, had plagiarized her work. The injustice of it all sent a shiver down her spine.

She abruptly stood up from her desk, pushing away the manuscript she was working on. The room had become unbearably stuffy, suffocating. She needed air, needed to be anywhere but here.

She rushed to the window and flung it open, gulping down deep breaths. The crisp, cool air offered little relief. Her hands trembled as she clutched the sill, the cold metal digging into her skin, a desperate attempt to anchor herself to the world.