The Stanford acceptance letter arrived on a Wednesday afternoon.
Adrian stared at the envelope for ten minutes before opening it, recognizing the letterhead, knowing what it probably said but terrified to confirm.
His hands shook as he finally tore it open.
Accepted. Full funding. Prestigious program. Everything he'd worked for.
His dream.
In California.
Three thousand miles from any of Dante's acceptances.
He sat on his bed holding the letter, feeling nothing. Not excitement, not joy, not even satisfaction at achieving what he'd supposedly wanted.
Just dread.
A heavy, sinking dread that settled in his stomach like a stone.
Dante found him like that an hour later, still sitting in the same position, letter hanging limply from his hand.
"What's wrong?" Dante asked, closing the door behind him. "You look like someone died."
Adrian couldn't speak. He just handed Dante the letter.
