Gemotions

He glared at the email notification on his phone. Plagiarism. The audacity. He’d spent weeks on this project, sacrificing his weekends, fueled by instant coffee and a burning ambition to prove himself. Now this? He slammed his phone down on the desk, the cheap plastic rattling against the chipped surface.

He'd known, of course. He'd seen the way Professor Chen had looked at him in the hallway that morning. The condescending little smirk that seemed to say, "I knew you wouldn't be able to handle it." He clenched his fists, knuckles turning white.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, more to himself than to the empty room. He pictured Chen’s office, the carefully curated bookshelves, the air of self-importance. He was tempted to march right over there and… well, he wasn't sure what he wanted to do, but it wouldn't be pleasant.

The tightness in his chest intensified. He had a reputation to uphold. A legacy, even. And this… this was an insult. A blatant, undeserved slight on his character. He took a deep, ragged breath and opened the document again, his jaw set.