What if everyone at Prestige University saw right through her? What if they realized she did not belong there?
The tiny room smelled faintly of detergent and coffee drifting up from the diner downstairs. The apartment had always been small, but tonight it felt unbearably fragile, like one wrong move could shatter the little stability she had fought so hard to build.
She stared at the acceptance letter lying on the bed Prestige University, Full Scholarship, Texas and her fingers trembled slightly as she picked it up again. Not because she hadn't read it a hundred times already, but because it still didn't feel real.
"Stop staring at it like it's going to disappear." Sophia Reed dropped dramatically onto the bed, nearly crushing the letter beneath her, and Isabella quickly snatched it away.
"Sophia!"
"What?" Sophia laughed. "If that paper gets any more attention, I'm going to start getting jealous." Isabella rolled her eyes, but a small smile pulled at her lips.
Sophia sat up and grabbed Isabella's wrist, looking at her with the kind of steady sincerity that always made Isabella uncomfortable. "No, seriously. Look at me. You did this," she said softly. "You. Not luck. Not pity. You worked yourself to death for this scholarship." Isabella looked away immediately, because compliments like that especially the ones that sounded completely genuine never sat well with her.
Her eyes drifted slowly around the apartment, taking in the peeling walls, the old couch Clara had bought years ago from a thrift store, and the tiny kitchen where she had spent countless late nights studying while eating instant noodles. Everything in this apartment carried struggle, and every corner reminded her exactly where she came from. Maybe that was exactly why leaving terrified her.
"You're thinking too much again," Sophia said.
"I always think too much."
"Yeah, but this time your face looks extra tragic." Isabella laughed quietly, and Sophia reached over and squeezed her shoulder. "You are going to Prestige University," Sophia said slowly, staring at her like she still couldn't believe it. "Do you actually understand how insane that sounds?"
"That's exactly the problem. I don't belong there." The words escaped before Isabella could stop them, quiet and raw. She hated how easily fear stripped her voice of confidence, but it had been growing inside her ever since the acceptance letter arrived. Prestige University was filled with people who had grown up with money, confidence, and power people who had never worried about rent or skipped meals to save money, people who would look at her and immediately know she came from nothing.
Sophia sat straighter. "Don't start."
"I'm serious." Isabella zipped her suitcase harder than necessary. "Those people are rich. Powerful. They've lived completely different lives."
"And you graduated top of your class while working two jobs," Sophia said firmly, crossing her arms. "That university accepted you because you earned it. Not because they felt sorry for you."
The apartment door opened before Isabella could respond, and both girls turned. Clara stepped inside slowly, her dark coat dripping rainwater onto the floor, her sharp eyes landing instantly on Isabella's suitcase. Clara had always carried a strange heaviness around her even in quiet moments she looked like someone bracing for disaster, her shoulders tense, her expression guarded whenever certain topics came up. It made Isabella feel, as it always had since childhood, like there were invisible pieces missing from her life.
"So," Clara said quietly, setting a paper bag on the table. "It's finally packed." Isabella nodded. Sophia stood up awkwardly, already reaching for her jacket, but Clara stopped her. "You can stay." That surprised both of them Clara was rarely warm with anyone, especially Sophia.
Clara removed her coat carefully and looked at Isabella. "You leave tomorrow morning. You have your documents? Your ID? Scholarship papers?" Isabella answered yes to each one, and then silence filled the room again, the way it always did between them. There were moments when Isabella felt like Clara wanted to say something important - something big enough to change everything but the words never came. Instead, Clara walked to the small kitchen and began unpacking food from the paper bag.
Sophia leaned toward Isabella and whispered dramatically, "She scares me."
"I heard that," Clara said flatly, and Sophia immediately sat upright.
"You should eat," Clara said, turning to Isabella.
"I'm not hungry."
"You barely ate this morning."
"I said I'm fine."
Clara turned slowly. "You think surviving on coffee and stress makes you strong?" Isabella looked down, and Sophia quietly raised both hands as if to signal she was staying out of it. Clara sighed and walked toward Isabella, her voice dropping into something softer and more careful than usual. "You've worked hard your entire life. You don't need to prove yourself every second." The gentleness caught Isabella completely off guard, because Clara almost never spoke that way, and she felt her throat tighten with something she couldn't quite name.
"I just" she started, then stopped. Clara waited, but Isabella could never explain the feeling properly. There was always pressure sitting heavily inside her chest, tangled up with the fear of failing, the fear of losing everything she had worked for, and the terrifying thought that people would eventually realize she didn't truly belong anywhere.
Sophia suddenly clapped her hands together loudly. "Okay! Everyone is getting emotional and I hate it. We are celebrating tonight."
"With what money?" Isabella asked.
Sophia grinned. "I stole fries from work." Isabella burst out laughing, and even Clara shook her head slightly.
For the next hour the apartment felt lighter. Sophia talked nonstop about Texas, about billionaire students, about finding Isabella a rich husband.
"Absolutely not," Isabella said.
"Why not? You're smart and pretty. Go secure the bag."
"I'm going there to study."
"Mhm." Sophia pointed accusingly. "That's what they all say before falling in love with some emotionally unavailable rich boy."
Clara's expression shifted almost instantly, just subtly enough that most people would have missed it, but Isabella noticed. "Love distracts people," Clara said coldly.
"Why does everyone in this apartment hate romance?" Sophia groaned.
"I don't hate romance," Isabella said.
Sophia narrowed her eyes. "You have never dated anyone in your entire life. You rejected Carlos, you rejected Mason" Isabella grabbed a pillow and threw it toward her, laughing, and Sophia smirked. "Exactly. You're picky."
"Prestige University is not a place for distractions." Clara's tone had gone serious, the warmth from earlier vanishing completely. "Those wealthy families destroy people like us." The apartment went quiet, and Isabella looked at her carefully, because there it was again that strange bitterness that crept into Clara's voice whenever rich people were mentioned, sharp and personal in a way that had always felt like more than just a general opinion.
"Clara..." Isabella started carefully, but Clara shook her head.
"Just remember why you're going there."
"To build a future."
"Yes." Clara's eyes darkened slightly. "Not to trust people who were born with silver spoons in their mouths. Some people ruin lives with money and never lose sleep over it." The words settled heavily in the room, and Sophia looked between them nervously before standing up and announcing she needed to leave before it turned into a therapy session.
Isabella hugged her tightly at the door. "You're going to do amazing things," Sophia said, squeezing her. "And if any rich kids annoy you, call me. I'll fight them."
"You're five foot five."
"And dangerous."
After Sophia left, silence returned with the rain still tapping softly against the window. Clara sat across from Isabella without speaking, and for several long moments neither of them moved. Then Clara reached into her pocket and placed a silver necklace on the table between them old and beautiful, with a small moon-shaped pendant resting at its center.
"What's this?" Isabella asked softly.
"It belonged to your mother." Isabella froze. They almost never talked about her parents, and whenever Isabella had asked questions growing up, Clara had always found a way to redirect or go quiet entirely.
"She loved this necklace," Clara said quietly. Isabella picked it up carefully, turning the pendant over in her fingers. "What was she like?" she asked, and Clara looked away for a moment, seeming to go somewhere else entirely before answering.
"She was kind. She loved you."
"How do you know?" Isabella's fingers tightened around the pendant.
"Because no mother could look at you and not love you." Clara's voice cracked slightly at the end, so quietly that most people wouldn't have caught it, but Isabella did, and her chest tightened painfully. She wanted to believe those words more than anything, yet years of unanswered questions made it difficult. If her mother had loved her so much, why had she never come back? Isabella looked down quickly because she hated crying in front of people, so she focused on the necklace instead.
"You never talk about them," Isabella said. "Why?" Clara stayed silent, and Isabella slowly lifted her eyes. "Did they abandon me?" The question came out smaller than she intended vulnerable, almost childlike and she hated that, hated how those questions still made her feel like the lonely little girl who used to stare out apartment windows wondering why nobody ever came looking for her.
Clara's face changed instantly. "No." The answer came too quickly, too sharply, and Isabella noticed.
"Then what happened?"
Clara stood abruptly. "That's enough questions for tonight." The warmth from earlier vanished completely, and Isabella's stomach tightened because this always happened questions always led to walls between them.
"I'm eighteen now," Isabella said quietly. "Don't I deserve the truth?" Clara faced the window, her shoulders stiffening. "You deserve a future," she said, and Isabella shook her head.
"That's not what I asked. You always do this. You think avoiding the past protects me, but it doesn't." Clara finally turned, and for the first time all night Isabella saw something raw in her expression real fear, the kind that couldn't be faked.
"You don't understand," Clara whispered.
"Then help me understand." Clara stared at her for several long seconds before walking closer, very slowly, as if measuring every word before she spoke it. "You are going to Prestige University tomorrow," she said carefully. "You are going there to change your life. Do not let the past distract you."
"Why won't you tell me who my parents were?" Isabella pressed, and Clara looked at her with such intensity that Isabella stopped breathing for a second.
"Because the truth destroys people." She said it so quietly it almost sounded like a confession. A chill crawled slowly down Isabella's arms, because the fear in Clara's eyes didn't look like an excuse it looked personal, deep, like whatever truth she was hiding had already ruined lives before. Clara walked away before Isabella could say anything else, and the bedroom door closed softly behind her.
Isabella stood motionless in the middle of the apartment, her thoughts spiraling painfully. The truth destroys people. She looked down at the necklace still curled in her palm, then toward Clara's closed door, and something felt wrong - not new, because it had always been there, that quiet feeling that pieces of her life were missing, that everyone else had received a full story while she only got fragments.
Her phone buzzed on the bed. Sophia: Still alive? Isabella smiled faintly and typed back: Barely. Sophia: Dramatic. Isabella: Clara started talking about rich people again. Sophia: Ah yes. Her favorite hobby. Then: Nervous about tomorrow? Isabella stared at the message for a moment, typed the word very, and then erased it before sending: No. Three dots appeared immediately. Sophia: Liar. Isabella laughed quietly. Then another message: I think your entire life is about to change.
Isabella looked around the tiny apartment one more time the cracked walls, the weak light, the heavy silence and thought that maybe Sophia was right. But for some reason, that thought scared her more than it excited her.
Later that night she couldn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes her thoughts spiraled uncontrollably through Prestige University and Texas and new people and a new life, and the possibilities that should have excited her only twisted anxiously in her stomach. She lay staring at the ceiling while rain continued falling outside, touching the necklace around her neck every few minutes, Clara's words cycling through her head on a loop. The truth destroys people.
Around two in the morning Isabella finally sat up, a strange unsettled feeling pressing heavily in her chest, like something was about to happen. She quietly walked toward the kitchen for water, but halfway there, voices stopped her. Clara was on the phone, her voice low and careful in the dark.
"She's leaving tomorrow," Clara whispered. A pause. "No. She still doesn't know anything. She cannot find out the truth yet." Isabella's heartbeat slowed, something cold sliding down her spine as she moved closer without making a sound, her fingers tightening around the edge of the wall. "I spent eighteen years protecting her," Clara continued, her voice dropping even lower. "If the Jackson family sees her face" The sentence stopped abruptly, and the silence that followed was worse than the words.
Isabella froze completely behind the wall, her entire body going cold. The Jackson family. The name echoed violently inside her head she had never heard Clara mention them before, not once and yet Clara sounded terrified, as though Isabella's face alone could destroy something irreplaceable. Her breathing became uneven as questions crashed through her mind so fast they almost hurt. Who were the Jacksons? What did they have to do with her? And why did Clara sound like she had been hiding this secret for years?
Then Clara spoke again, barely above a whisper. "She looks exactly like her now. If they discover Isabella is alive before we are ready, everything will fall apart."
/1/119889/coverbig.jpg?v=5b5f905c8c208e3796add87770a4bdbb)
View More Comments on App
