Gemotions

The email’s words burned into her memory: "Incorrect applicant." Elena stared at the screen, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her carefully constructed life, built on this scholarship, teetered on the brink. She felt a cold sweat break out across her forehead.

She rose from her desk, her legs unsteady. The campus, usually vibrant and welcoming, now felt like a prison. Every face she passed seemed to be scrutinizing her. She imagined them whispering, pointing.

She needed air, to be away from the suffocating pressure. But as she walked, she found herself constantly looking over her shoulder, convinced she was being followed.