Logan had been preparing for weeks.
While I had drowned myself in medical textbooks, he had spent hours in the music room, arranging melodies, perfecting his technique, pouring his soul into every note. It had become our routine—I’d study late into the night, and he’d lose himself in the strings of his guitar.
We had a plan. We were supposed to be together, in the same city, chasing our dreams side by side.
And then, one morning, my acceptance letter arrived.
The thick envelope sat on the kitchen counter, staring back at me like it knew how much my hands were shaking. Sarah was the first one to snatch it up, practically tearing it open while I stood there, frozen.
“Come on, Em,” she urged, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “This is it.”
I exhaled shakily and took the letter. My fingers trembled as I unfolded the paper.
I scanned the first line.
Then the next.
And then—
“Yes,” I breathed. My voice barely worked, but the word tumbled out, raw and disbelieving.
Sarah squealed, grabbing me by the arms and shaking me. “Yes?! You got in?!”
“I got in,” I repeated, louder this time. And just like that, the words became real. A giddy laugh bubbled up in my throat, and suddenly, Sarah and I were jumping around the kitchen, her screaming, me half-laughing, half-crying.
I barely heard the door open before I felt strong arms wrap around me from behind, lifting me off the ground.
“You got in?” Logan’s voice was breathless in my ear.
I turned in his arms, my face breaking into a wide grin. “I got in.”
His mouth crashed onto mine before I could say another word, his hands cupping my face, his lips warm and urgent. I melted into him, my hands tangling in his hair, the excitement between us thrumming like an electric current.
When he finally pulled back, his blue eyes were shining with pride. “I knew you would.”
Nothing could go wrong.
Or so I thought.
His envelope was thinner than mine.
That was the first thing I noticed when I found it on Logan’s desk later that night.
I hadn’t been looking for it. I had just been searching for my hoodie when my fingers brushed against the paper, and instinctively, I pulled it out.
The name on the front stopped me cold.
Clae School of Music.
My stomach twisted as I slowly unfolded the letter.
“We regret to inform you…”
No.
My throat closed up as I scanned the rest, my heart pounding so loudly it drowned out the world.
This wasn’t possible.
Logan had spent weeks preparing for this. His talent was undeniable. There was no way they could have rejected him.
I barely heard the door open behind me.
“What are you doing?”