As he passed my mother, he raised his eyebrows smugly, clearly enjoying the moment.
I acted like I didn’t see it and followed him out the door.
My mother reached out, trying to stop me one last time.
“Think carefully, my daughter,” she warned. “Going with your father might cost you your life.”
I glanced back at her, emotionless, and shook off her hand.
“I’ve studied for this day for nine years. Even if knives fall from the sky, I’m going.”
She opened her mouth again but said nothing.
She only sighed as I walked away.
Unlike her, my father was thrilled to be the one sending me off.
He pedaled the old bicycle with energy, as if he’d been waiting for this day his whole life.
At the station, he gave me a rare piece of advice.
“Camila, study hard, okay? Don’t let your mother or me down.”
I suppressed a bitter smile, nodded, and boarded the bus.
The driver was standing at the front, counting passengers.
I didn’t need to count.
There were 19 of us—every one of us a girl.
In our village, boys and girls take the college entrance exam at different locations.
I didn’t know if it’s like that elsewhere, but my mother always said it’s how it’s done here.
I glanced out the window, my heart pounding as we neared the road my mother had warned me about.
Suddenly, I stood up and rushed to the driver.
“Excuse me, Sir,” I said anxiously, “can we take another route? My mother said this road will collapse today.”
The driver paused and frowned.
“Nonsense,” he said gruffly. “We’ve been using this road for decades. It’s never collapsed once.”
I bit my lip, hands clenched into fists, a flicker of unease growing in my chest.
“But my mom is certain—”
The driver cut me off, clearly annoyed.
“You believe your mom that much? What is she now, a prophet? Can she predict the future or talk to gods?”
“I… my mom said she’s reincarnated.”
I mustered the courage to say it—but as soon as the words left my mouth, the whole bus burst into laughter.
Everyone laughed—except for the driver.
He glanced at me in the rearview mirror, expression unreadable.
“Little girl, where are you from? Who are your parents?”
I hesitated before replying truthfully, “My father is Austin Connor, and my mother is Lia Grayson.”
The driver let out a low, ambiguous chuckle.
He shot me another side glance, then shrugged.
“Alright, alright. Go back to your seat. I promise you won’t die today. Just sit tight and relax!”