The expulsion letter sat on the polished mahogany between us, the paper thick and creamy, the university crest embossed in gold at the top. It was the only thing in the vast, silent office that seemed caught my attention.

The rest—the leather-bound books that had never been opened, the faint, cloying scent of lemon polish, the heavy tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the corner—felt like a dream I couldn’t wake up from.

Headmaster Patel hadn’t said a word in five minutes. He just watched me, his hands steepled under his chin, his face a blank, hard mask. He wasn’t angry. He was worse. He was patient.

My throat was...