She found her classroom, a modern lecture hall with tiered seating and a massive screen at the front. It was already half-full, a low hum of conversation filling the air.
Ophelia paused at the doorway for a heartbeat, letting the sound wash over her — laughter, footsteps, the shuffle of notebooks. For so long, her world had been silent corridors and guarded glances. Now she stood in a place that buzzed with life.
She took a deep breath and walked in.
The faint click of her heels drew attention. Heads turned, whispers rose, and she felt it again — the weight of eyes tracing her. The soft silk blouse, the skirt, the subtle scent of expensive perfume. Everything about her screamed elegance.
Except she didn't feel elegant.
She felt like a fraud.
