Freya's POV
I stood there for a full minute, eyes fixed on the mail like it might shift or rewrite itself if I stared long enough. It didn't. The letters stayed the same—Final. Cold. Crushing.
Despair wasn't even strong enough of a word to describe my feelings then. But I knew feeling hopeless and pitying myself would not in any way solve the problem. So I wiped off my tears, selected the contact number attached to the mail, and called the Academic Secretary immediately.
Professor Finerman had said to use the right channels, so I was going to explain myself and tell them my version of it. If things went well, maybe the council might hold a small meeting to address it. Those were, of course, me thinking too beautifully, but now it was wiser to think like that than lose complete hope.
Wi
