PROLOGUE
The email came in early that morning, long before the sun pushed through the curtains. Sylva Michaels didn’t even know what woke her—the vibration of her phone? Instinct? Or maybe that restless hope that had lived inside her chest for months.
She rolled over with a groan, dragging her messy hair off her face. Her phone screen lit up, blinding her for a second. She blinked, squinted… and then she saw it.
A bold subject line:
"Congratulations! You've been admitted into Belfast University."
For a moment, everything inside her just… paused. The room went quiet. Her breathing stilled. She sat there with the blanket half on her legs, staring at the screen like it might disappear if she moved too fast. Her heart didn’t even beat—at least it didn’t feel like it.
Then it hit her all at once.
“Oh my God.”
The scream tore out of her throat before she could stop it. Loud. Too loud. The kind that bounced off the walls and probably shot straight to the living room downstairs.
She jumped out of bed, nearly tripping over her slippers, laughing and crying at the same time. Actual tears blurred her vision as she pressed the phone to her chest.
Months of waiting. Of refreshing the portal every single day. Of praying even when she pretended she wasn’t worried. Of imagining rejection emails and trying to prepare herself emotionally. It had all been worth it.
She got in.
Belfast University.
Her dream school.
Her door flew open so hard it hit the wall. Her mom stood there with her wrapper half tied, eyes wide.
“Sylva! What happened? Why are you shouting like—” Her mother stopped mid-sentence. “Wait… you got in, didn’t you?”
Sylva nodded so fast her hair shook. “Yes, Mom. I did. I really did!”
Her mom’s face softened instantly, turning into the warm smile Sylva had grown up with. She rushed forward and hugged her so tightly Sylva squeaked.
“Ah! Thank You, God,” her mother whispered into her hair. “My daughter has made it.”
They were still wrapped in each other when her father appeared behind her mom, holding his newspaper like it was a shield. He looked at them with his brows raised.
“What is going on here this early in the morning?”
Sylva pulled away from her mother and faced him, breathless and glowing. “Dad… I got in. Belfast University. They accepted me.”
Her dad nodded slowly as if the news was traveling through all the quiet, calm parts of him before it registered. Then a proud smile spread across his face.
“I heard the first shout,” he said, folding his newspaper. “Congratulations, darling.”
Sylva blinked at him. “Dad, are you even listening? I said I got in. I finally did.”
“I’m listening,” he said with a chuckle. “Later today, I’ll send some money to your mother—or I’ll give her my card—so she can start buying your things for school.”
Sylva froze, her mouth hanging open. Then she rushed to him and hugged him tightly, the newspaper crinkling between them.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “I love you so much.”
Her mom sighed dramatically. “So because they admitted you now, you will not allow us rest again, ehn? I knew this house will not be quiet today.”
They all laughed, and Sylva felt it wash over her again—the joy, the pride, the disbelief.
She had done it.
College was no longer a dream.
It was happening.
And it was happening to her.
