Rejected. Again. Impossible. But the dull, reused a thousand times letter template is undeniable. “We are sorry to inform you haven’t been admitted in…We acknowledge the time and effort you put…” Yeah, enough, there’s no reason to read the same words again and again, she knows what they will be. Anya steps away from the computer, breathing unevenly. Being used to it doesn’t make it less disappointing, or frustrating. She’d been actually more hopeful this time, she has improved so much in her studies, but apparently, they never think it’s enough if she’s unable to stand out, which is reasonably stupid, Denying education because of that? If she had enough money, maybe she wouldn’t be going through this. How unfair life is…

Anya doesn’t feel like crying. Not a single tear threatens to spill. She’s never been much of a crier anyways, the way she’s able to maintain calm under stress is actually dangerous. People hardly know what’s on her mind, some think she looks gloomy, most don’t care. You care, more than anyone she’s had in her life. Her one true family — more supportive than her real one, surely. You two understand each other an odd way. Romance was never a priority, not even a desire of hers, and she still isn’t fond of being affectionate all the time, but it works with you two, somehow. At least there’s still one person who understands her when no one else seems to bother. It’s like someone really cares about her, not what she’s willing to pretend to be.

And of course you’d be worried for her, you know how many stress she can go under without exploding. Always with a gentle hand caressing her shoulder, encouraging her to speak, if she feels like talking about it.

“It’s not that bad, I promise. I’m okay. I guess I just thought I had a chance this time. Maybe nine is my lucky number?” She gives you a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It’s just an attempt to comfort you, but she knows it won’t work, you’ll still try to comfort her instead, because that’s what you do, look out for each other.