Chereads / Love's Beyond / Chapter 2 - Emancipation Through Academia

Chapter 2 - Emancipation Through Academia

I immersed myself in the ritual of preparation, bathing in the cascade of

lukewarm water, then donning my favorite t-shirt paired with denim jeans.

Adorning myself with familiar accessories – the necklace, rings, and stone

earrings that carried stories of forgotten moments. The mirror reflected back

at me, revealing the canvas of my face. I brushed on concealer to mask the

shadows beneath my eyes and the rouge on my cheeks, a futile attempt to

conceal the wear and tear of time. The real irony lingered in the uncertainty

of expiration dates, a dubious joke I played on myself with every application.

Locked out of my room, I descended the stairs, exhaling a sigh of relief as her

presence eluded the scene. Today, I craved no drama, no unnecessary

exchanges. Perhaps she had ventured out early with her questionable

companion. Does he truly love her? It's a question that dances on the

periphery of my thoughts, but ultimately, it's inconsequential. She, blissfully

enamored, remains blind to any subtleties.

After securing the house, I navigated the familiar path toward the main

junction. Seeking solace, I stepped into the confines of the medical shop. A

small victory awaited me – an ointment for my aching mouth, a balm for the

wounds both visible and concealed. As I exited the shop, a familiar chime

sounded on my phone, notifying me of a client's payment. A regular patron of

my freelancing services, punctual in settling dues. My foray into the world of

freelancing as a graphic designer began a few years ago, a journey born out of

online tutorials. Since then, the digital realm has been a steady source, a

lifeline of income to meet my needs and sustain a semblance of stability. With

the payment freshly tucked into my pocket, I meandered toward the quaint

café that had become my morning refuge. Opting for the humblest of

breakfast options – a simple ensemble of black tea, bread, and butter – I knew

it might be the cheapest on the menu, but it promised to appease the

relentless growl of hunger within.

Once breakfast was duly savored, I embarked on the familiar route to my

educational bastion. The institution, a mirror reflection of privilege and stereotypical academia, catered to the usual array of students. My entry into

this realm of learning came courtesy of a hard-earned scholarship, a reward

for my perfect performance in the crucible of tenth-grade exams.

As the bell tolled and the day unfolded within those hallowed halls, I couldn't

help but reflect on the weight of my education. It wasn't just a series of

lessons and exams; it was my ticket to emancipation, the sole force with the

potential to unshackle me from the constraints of circumstance. In the

sanctuary of academia, my emancipation lies solely within the realms of

education. With unyielding determination, I pour myself into my studies,

laboring tirelessly to ascend to the pinnacle of achievement. There exists no

room for the luxury of indulgence; the path ahead demands resilience and

unwavering commitment. Spoils are a privilege reserved for those with

alternate avenues, and in this pursuit of knowledge, I find my liberation. In

the bustling corridor of our classroom, I encountered my friend Kelly, her

eyes gleaming with excitement. "Hey, lovey, early as always. Guess what?

I've got news that'll make your day. Want to hear it?" Her enthusiasm was

palpable. "There's this upcoming project, and winning it means you could

snag the Trendor Scholarship. It's a golden ticket, covering not just your

tuition but all your living expenses too. Can you believe it?" First reaction:

wow. Second thought: since when did Kelly become the ambassador for

scholarships and projects? Something was definitely afoot.

"You know me too well, love. It's a partner project,and Jackson and I are

going to create something amazing, celebrate with a 'hoorey,' and maybe even

start our own epic love story. What do you think?" Her words hung in the

air, and I responded with a smile, masking my sudden bout of sadness. The

last thing I wanted was to jeopardize our friendship and make her feel

insecure. So, I smiled and laughed lightly, concealing the storm of conflicted

emotions beneath the surface. The undeniable truth is, he doesn't merit her,

nor the earnest endeavors she invests. She's worthy of so much more, yet

conveying this truth to her feels futile. In her mind, she envisions happiness

and the fulfillment of her desires in a connection with him. Do I share her optimism? Not a chance. The bell's resonant chime signaled the

commencement of class, prompting me to secure my usual spot near Kelly.

Under the tutelage of Professor James, a purveyor of biology wisdom, the

lecture unfolded. Since our initial encounter, I harbored suspicions about his

affiliation with her, and his eyes seemed to linger with a peculiar intensity

whenever our paths crossed. I maintained my stoic "nothing face," a skill

developed to shield against such observations. Amidst the watchful gazes,

another pair of eyes, Jackson's, emanated a palpable animosity. I understood

the root of his resentment—my persistent refusals. However, resilience and

adjustment were virtues he'd have to cultivate. While orchestrating a tutorial

on the nuances of a particular word, my attention shifted to a recent addition

to the class, a mysterious newcomer who had slipped under Kelly's radar.

Unusual, considering Kelly's expertise in all matters related to our class

dynamics. Positioned at the forefront, he remained a silhouette until an

unexpected twist of fate compelled him to face my direction. A subtle

acknowledgment passed between us, his eyes meeting mine for a fleeting

moment. However, it wasn't his gaze that captured my interest but the tattoo

embellishing his skin—an emblem of the enigma that had shrouded him.

A smile played on my lips, an attempt at camaraderie, though his response

was stoic, devoid of any visible emotion. It was as if I had become a mere

fragment of the background noise in his world. My gaze retreated to the pages

of my book, now scattered with the collateral damage of distraction.

Uninterested in deciphering the enigma of his expressionless countenance, I

chose to immerse myself in the lecture, surrendering to the indifference that

marked our brief encounter. He, too, redirected his focus, leaving me to

contemplate the secrets concealed within the ink of his tattoo.