Page 63 of August and the Night

As I pull into my driveway, the house stands dark and silent, a stark reminder of the emptiness I feel without Layla. I get out of the car and head inside, vowing to do whatever it takes to win her back.

The path ahead is uncertain, and I know it won't be easy. But I refuse to give up on Layla. She's the love of my life, and I'll fight to make things right between us, no matter how long it takes.

49

Layla

I stir, gradually waking from my sleep. As my grogginess fades, the realization of the day ahead settles in. I'm meeting with my advisor, George, to finalize and practice my thesis presentation—a crucial step toward the culmination of years of hard work.

I stretch and yawn, my mind gradually transitioning from dreams to reality. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and make my way to the bathroom. The sound of running water fills the room as I wash away the last traces of sleep. The mirror reflects my image, my eyes are swollen from how much I cried after my confrontation with August. I don't know how concealer can even hide that.

After getting ready, I glance at the clock. It's time to leave. As I head toward the door, my gaze lands on the bouquet of white roses sitting just outside my apartment. Confusion knits my brows together; I hadn't ordered any flowers.

The scent of the roses fills the air, their pristine white petals a stark contrast against the neutral tones of the hallway. Beside the bouquet, a folded letter catches my attention. I pick it up, my heart racing as I read the words:

"My little dove, I am so sorry. Please, forgive me. There is no August without Layla."

I feel a lump form in my throat as I read the words over and over again. But as quickly as my love had risen, anger and resentment follow. I crumple the letter in my hand, my grip tight and unyielding. I leave the bouquet exactly where it is, determined not to let this gesture sway me.

With a deep breath, I turn away and walk down the hallway, my determination solidifying with every step. The letter might have tugged at my heart, but I refuse to change my decision, especially at such a small gesture, the bare minimum. As I head out to the university, my focus shifts solely to the task at hand—my presentation, my hard work, and the future I'm determined to shape for myself.

I arrive at the university, the mixture of excitement and nerves bubbling within me as I approach the familiar building where my advisor, Professor George, has his office. I knock on the door, and his warm voice beckons me to enter.

"Ah, Layla! Right on time," George greets me with a smile.

"Hi, professor," I reply, returning his smile. My heart races, even though this is just a practice session.

We exchange pleasantries before I launch into my presentation. As I speak, Professor George listens intently, his attention focused solely on me and my work. My nerves seem to shrink as I delve into my research, explaining the intricacies of my findings, the challenges I've overcome, and the implications for the field.

When I finish, a sense of accomplishment washes over me. George's applause is genuine, his smile wide. "Layla, that was flawless. Your thesis practically defends itself. I must say, this is probably the best presentation I've seen from a student in years."

Tears of pride well up in my eyes as I thank him, my emotions getting the best of me. The hard work, the sleepless nights, the doubts—all of it has led to this moment.

George's kind eyes soften as he observes my reaction. "You've earned this, Layla."

I wipe away my tears, my smile radiating gratitude. "Thank you, Professor."

We share a warm hug. He then steps back, excitement dancing in his eyes.

“Layla, I have some exciting news to share," he says, his voice filled with anticipation.

I look at him, curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

George's grin grows even wider. "Our lab has just secured a substantial fund to continue our research on organoids and personalized therapy, especially in the field of breast cancer."

My eyes widen, a mixture of surprise and joy flooding my senses. "That's amazing news!"

He nods, his enthusiasm contagious. "I thought you'd be excited. Your dedication to this area of research is truly amazing."

I can't contain my happiness. In a burst of elation, I do a little happy dance right there in his office. Professor George laughs, his joy blending with mine.

"Who are the funders?" I ask excitedly.

George's smile grows wider, his enthusiasm matching my own. "They're currently speaking with the dean of the Faculty of Sciences. Let's head over there."

I nod eagerly, ready to seize this opportunity. As Professor George places a hand on my back to lead me, we walk down the corridor, my heart racing with a mix of anticipation and gratitude. But as we approach the conversation between the funder and the dean, a realization strikes me—a realization that causes my excitement to falter.

August.

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