Friday. Last day of the tests.
And just like the others this week, it had been stupidly easy. Not because the professor went soft, not because the universe decided to cut me a break—no. It was easy because Celestia Valentina Moreau decided I wasn't allowed to fail.
She'd made sure of it, dragging me through every chapter, every question bank, every late-night revision. The results showed—my head was clearer than usual, my pen moved faster, and when I left the exam hall, I wasn't weighed down by that usual pit of dread.
Now we were sitting in our usual cafeteria spot. Same corner table, tucked away from most of the noise. My tray sat in front of me, half-finished food cooling because I'd been more focused on her than on eating.
