Chapter 199.

Kylie sat before her laptop with her knees tucked beneath her.

Her brows had been pulled into a small frown as she scrolled through her Gmail.

She clicked through each one carefully, reading every word even when she already knew what it was going to say.

Her inbox had been unusually quiet for the past few days. That had almost been a relief.

Until this morning.

Now she wished it had stayed quiet.

Kylie clicked on the first email again.

Subject: Application Update — Westbridge University

Her stomach tightened.

Westbridge University. Toronto. One of the most compititive law schools in Canada.

Its Master of Laws program had been one of the reasons she’d spent weeks rewriting her application essays.

She had obsessed over every paragraph.

She had sent emails to professors whose research aligned with her interests in criminal justice and restorative law.

She had stayed up until three in the morning working on her personal statement.

She scrolled down.

’Dear Ms. Benneth,

Kylie stopped.

She stared at the screen, then continued.

Thank you for your application to the Master of Laws in Criminal Law and Justice program at Westbridge University.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the laptop.

After careful consideration of your academic record, application essays, references, and supporting documents, we are pleased to confirm that your application was considered highly competitive.

Kylie blinked.

Her heart lifted.

Just slightly.

She continued reading.

Your academic performance and professional aspirations demonstrate exceptional potential for advanced legal study.

A small smile appeared across her lips. "Okay."

She whispered it to herself. "Okay."

Unfortunately, due to an unusually competitive applicant pool and limited spaces available for the upcoming enrollment cycle, we are unable to offer you admission for the current intake.

Her smile disappeared. She read the sentence again, then once more.

Unable to offer you admission?

Her eyes moved further down.

This decision should not be interpreted as a reflection of the quality of your academic record or application. We were particularly impressed by your written work, you academic records, and demonstrated interest in criminal law.

Her throat tightened.

We would encourage you to consider applying during our next enrollment cycle.’

Next enrollment?

Kylie leaned back in her chair.

Three weeks. Three weeks of waiting, and telling herself not to worry.

And now this.

Not rejected, and not accepted. Somewhere in between. Which somehow felt worse.

Kylie rubbed her forehead. "Next enrollment." She whispered the words.

That meant another year.

Another year of waiting. Another year before she could start. She hated waiting. That was why she planned to enroll the moment she got her first degree.

She hated uncertainty even more.

She scrolled to the bottom.

’We hope you will consider submitting a new application when applications reopen.’

Kylie stared at the final sentence, then closed the email.

Her finger hovered over the next message.

There were still three unopened emails beneath it.

She clicked the next one.

Application Status — Kingsley University School of Law

Kylie froze.

Kingsley University.

Her stomach dropped. Kingsley was even more prestigious and compititive than Westbridge. Its law faculty was considered one of the most selective institutions in the country.

The university’s criminal law program had produced judges, prosecutors, defense attorneys, and legal scholars whose names appeared everywhere she had spent the last several years studying.

Kylie had applied almost impulsively.

She had told herself she wouldn’t get in. Then she’d submitted the application anyway. However, somewhere inside her, there had still been a tiny, stubborn part of her that believed she might.

She looked at the email.

Her finger hovered over it. Then she laughed softly. Almost hopelessly.

"No." She shook her head. "Absolutely not."

If Westbridge had said no.... If Westbridge hadn’t accepted her, there was no chance Kingsley would.

She clicked the email anyway.

The page loaded.

Kylie stared at the screen.

Her expression slowly changed.

There was something about seeing the university’s name sitting there that made the disappointment from the first email feel heavier.

She had wanted this. She really wanted it.

Kylie stopped herself. Kingsley hadn’t sent her a respond. She sent her application to them two months before Westbridge.

She closed the laptop halfway. "There’s no point." She pushed the laptop slightly away from her.

Her room was quiet.

Her eyes wandered toward the opposite side of the room.

The shopping bags were still there.

The bags were from Adrian and Emilia.

The ridiculously excessive gifts they’d bought her in Brazil, and had sent to her after everything that had happened.

Kylie had finally opened them last night.

Twenty boxes.

She still couldn’t believe it.

There were designer bags, shoes, clothes, perfume, and jewelry.

Seven YSL bags sat near the wardrobe, and several Dior boxes were stacked neatly beside them.

Kylie stared at them, then at her laptop, and back at the bags.

A soft knock sounded.

Kylie’s head lifted. She knew that knock. She quickly closed the laptop completely.

"Come in."

The door opened.

Christian stepped inside. He wore a dark shirt with the sleeves pushed up his forearms and dark jeans.

His hair was slightly messy.

His eyes immediately found Kylie, then the laptop. His eyes automatically moved to the designer bags.

His eyebrows lifted. "You finally opened Adrian and Emilia’s gifts to you?"

Kylie nodded with a small smile. She wrapped her hands loosely around her stomach. "The gifts were so nice."

She glanced at the bags. "Twenty boxes in total." Her smile grew slightly. "And trust me, I’ve never been so spoilt."

Christian closed the door behind him. "Never say never."

Kylie looked at him.

He smiled, but the smile didn’t last. His eyes had already returned to her face. He noticed the slight tension around her eyes, and the way her shoulders weren’t as relaxed as they usually were.

Christian walked closer. "What happened?"

Kylie shook her head. "Nothing."

He stopped in front of her. "Blue."

"I’m fine."

She looked away.

Christian waited.

Kylie tried to smile, and it was terrible.

Christian’s expression softened. "That smile was awful."

She looked at him. "Excuse me?"

"It was."

She scoffed. "You don’t have to insult me."

"I’m not."

"You just called my smile awful."

"I said that particular smile was awful."

Kylie rolled her eyes. And then, she tried to smile again. This time, it was slightly more genuine.