The golden rays of the morning sun bathed the bustling campus of École Supérieure, but Maya's usual spark was dimmed. She sat on a bench near the library, clutching a file that contained her dreams—a carefully written letter requesting a recommendation from her professor. This letter was her ticket to an international research program, the stepping stone to her future.
For weeks, she had meticulously prepared every detail. Her essays were polished, her grades were stellar, and her enthusiasm was evident. But as she replayed yesterday's meeting with Professor Gérard in her mind, her stomach twisted. His words still echoed in her ears.
"I can help you, Maya," Gérard had said, his tone honeyed but laced with something darker. His eyes had lingered just a moment too long on the curves of Maya. "But such favors... well, they come with certain expectations."
Maya had frozen, her heartbeat thundering in her chest. She had politely excused herself, her voice barely above a whisper, but her dignity had felt bruised, her trust shattered.
Now, sitting on the bench, she felt the weight of it all. She had worked so hard to get here, only to be met with this vile proposition. Her mind raced with questions: Should she confront him? Should she report him? But she knew how power worked in academia—how whispers were drowned out by the roar of authority.
Later that evening, Maya confided in her closest friends, Camille and Léa, over steaming cups of latte in their shared dorm room. Camille's fiery temper flared.
"That's disgusting! You should expose him!" she said, pacing the room.
Léa placed a comforting hand on Maya's shoulder. "You're not alone in this. We'll figure something out."
Maya smiled weakly, grateful for their support. But the hurt lingered. That night, as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, tears slid down her cheeks. "Why is it so hard to just chase your dreams?" she whispered to the dark room.
The next morning, the world felt heavy as Maya trudged to the department. She planned to retrieve her letter and withdraw her application, unwilling to compromise her integrity. But when she entered Gérard's office, her breath caught.
The letter was on his desk, neatly signed, with a post-it note stuck to it: "Good luck, Maya. You'll do great."
Her hands trembled as she picked up the letter. The signature was unmistakably Gérard's, but how? Why? She clutched it tightly, her heart racing.
Maya stepped outside, her eyes wide with disbelief. She looked up at the clear blue sky and whispered, "Thank you, God." The weight on her shoulders lifted, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude.
She ran back to her dorm, bursting through the door. "It's signed!" she exclaimed, holding up the letter like a trophy.
Camille and Léa stared at her, then erupted into cheers. Maya laughed, her joy spilling out in an unstoppable torrent.
"I can't believe it! This is a miracle!" she said, hugging her friends tightly.
As the excitement settled, Maya's roommate, Amrita, suggested celebrating.
"You know what? Let's take that trip to Venice we've been dreaming about," Amrita said, her eyes sparkling.
Maya hesitated. "Are you sure? It's so last-minute."
"That's what makes it fun! Let's go before you dive into your research."
Amrita's enthusiasm was infectious. Within hours, they were huddled around Maya's laptop, booking flights, hotels, and gondola rides. Maya's face lit up as she clicked "Confirm Booking" for a quaint boutique hotel near the Grand Canal.
That evening, Maya packed her suitcase, her hands trembling with excitement. For the first time in weeks, she felt like life was moving in the right direction. Venice awaited, and with it, the promise of new memories and adventures.
As she lay in bed that night, the nightmares stayed away. Her dreams were filled with visions of Venice—glistening canals, ornate bridges, and the warm glow of lanterns reflecting on the water. The future felt bright again, and for the first time in a long while, Maya felt truly at peace.
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