My Childhood Friend Spoiled My Admission Dream Chapter 10

My Childhood Friend Spoiled My Admission Dream Chapter 10

“Miss Sinclair, would you be willing to give a speech as a representative freshman at the opening ceremony?” 

On the day I arrived at Harvard University, Elaine Brooks, the academic advisor, called me into her office. 

“I will.” 

She studied me for a moment. 

“We’ve heard about what happened in your college 

admissions process.” 

“To still maintain your composure after something like 

that… it’s not easy.” 

I met her eyes calmly. 

“Compared to people who were actually destroyed, I 

was lucky.” 

“Luck is part of it,” she said softly. “But clarity matters 

more.” 

Everything moved fast after the semester began. 

In the class group chat, Caleb’s apology stayed pinned 

for three full days. 

It was long. 

He admitted that because of his bias and arrogance, he 

allowed Vivian to harm me, and that he spread 

unverified claims without checking the truth first. 

He apologized to me and to everyone who had been 

misled. 

This time, no one defended him. 

Tessa privately messaged me. 

[Audrey, I’m sorry. I used to follow Vivian and talk bad 

about you. I was misled too.] 

I blocked her immediately. 

Being “misled” didn’t erase the fact that she had 

chosen to swing the knife. 

Later, I heard from Nathan Cole that Vivian had been 

released on bail. 

The school revoked her honors and recommendations. 

Her family came to protest–her mother crying that her daughter just wanted companionship, so how did it 

become a crime? 

Victor sent a lawyer and said only one sentence. 

“If she wanted companionship, she can find it among her co–conspirators.” 

Caleb never even got to reapply for admission. 

Even though he wasn’t the main culprit, his name was 

dragged through the public backlash. 

Victor cut off all support. Caleb had no money for 

studying abroad, and he refused to take a gap year. 

In the end, he had no choice but to enroll at Riverstate 

Technical College. 

The first time I saw news of him was on a short video 

platform. 

[Once an Ivy League University prospect, now at 

Riverstate Technical College–mocked by roommates. 

for pretending to be a top student.] 

In the video, Caleb sat on the edge of a dorm bed, face 

dark. 

“Bro, I heard you were supposed to go to an Ivy 

League?” 

Someone laughed. 

“Did they reject you so you came here to ‘help the poor‘?” 

Caleb forced out a cold voice. 

“Don’t film me. I don’t belong here.” 

“You don’t belong here? Then why are you here?” 

“Everything has your name on it.” 

He reached up to block the camera and got shoved back. 

“Stop acting superior. We’re all studying at the same place. Who do you think you are?” 

The video cut off abruptly. The comment section was 

full of mockery. 

[Isn’t this the guy who told someone else to treat 

Riverstate like a ‘life experience‘?] 

[His own experience mode got activated.] 

I swiped it away. 

My roommate leaned over. “You know him?” 

“Used to.” 

She didn’t ask further. 

At the opening ceremony, I stood on stage and spoke. 

“I used to think the meaning of effort was achieving an 

outcome. Later I realized effort also gives you the 

strength to wait for the truth when you’re 

misunderstood.” 

“Never hand your life over to someone who thinks 

they’re doing it for your own good. And never surrender 

your boundaries out of so–called sympathy.” 

Applause filled the hall. 

On the screen, I saw my face–calm, clear, unshaken. 

After the ceremony, a message arrived. 

[Audrey, I saw your speech. You’re standing 

somewhere I can’t reach anymore.] 

[I’m doing really badly here. They laugh at me, isolate 

me, even throw my things into the water. Now I finally 

understand what it feels like to be bullied.] 

I turned off the screen. 

My roommate asked, “Spam?” 

“Pretty much.” 

Soon, another message popped up. 

[Can you come see me? Just once.] 

I blocked the number. 

There was no satisfaction in it, just the feeling of 

finally shutting a door that had been letting in cold air 

for too long. 

That night, Nathan sent me a screenshot. 

Caleb had posted a photo under a streetlight. The 

caption was only one line: [If only I had answered that 

call back then.] 

I looked at it for a few seconds and deleted the 

screenshot. 

Nathan asked, [Don’t you feel soft about it?] 

[No.] 

He sent a sighing emoji. [He is really suffering this 

time.] 

I looked out at the bright lights of the campus and 

slowly typed my final messages. 

[He’s suffering because the knife finally cut back into 

the hand that held it.] 

[And me—I’m going to see a world he’ll never reach.]