And Yet She Hopes

"Promise me I'll be able to come back here in four years."
Because four years is what she would have to spend before finally pursuing her dreams in the place that had grown to mean so much to her.

And so she hoped.

"It's all changed so much! I don't want to spend another day there, take me back!"
Even the ruins of what her childhood school had been we're nowhere to be seen. She sobbed at the thought of spending four – no, five – years here before she could go back.

She had her family and her teacher to give her solace that the years would pass in the blink of an eye. Things would get better.

And so she hoped.

"I thought I would have a chance to consider! Why don't I get to say no!?"
This line became quite familiar in the Dhavale household as she began to explore herself and inadvertently showcase her talents.  All the while, her thoughts kept playing on a loop: This wouldn't have happened years ago. This wouldn't have happened if we'd stayed.

When her family and teacher consoled her, tried to tell her it would get better, easier, she could only listen (or read in the case of written correspondence). Passively, a seed of doubt was sown.

And yet she hoped.

"What happens to individuality if all they expect us to do is swallow our textbooks whole!?"
Ah, the story of high school education. The fodder for her seed of doubt. The moment she realized she would do something about it. Because, really, how dare she let it go once it had caught her attention?

She knew her family and friends were with her. She also knew that she was up against a force much, much powerful and older.

And yet she hoped.

"Half the course, all these experiments, twenty–page projects, and an apathetic faculty. Who told me things would get better? Why did I let myself believe it?"
Her senior year. Her final…well, everything. Apparently also her final test. One she was afraid she may be failing, because hey, look – she's dehydrated, dizzy, and anxious. While still taking the load of her coursework and whatever else was forced upon her, because in the last something years, she still hadn't earned the right to say "no."
And that's just the backdrop to her college applications – her escape to the place she promised herself she would return to. Who was she kidding? The seed of doubt was already growing by now, blotting out any ray of hope. The rays were only bright enough to peek through because of the company and support system she kept.

That's why she dared to hope.

"Of course I'm not good enough. Why did I believe otherwise?"
Rejected from all five colleges. No fruit for her labor. Now was when she was really tempted to give up; maybe there really was nothing special about her.
There would be other countries, other colleges, other application cycles.
But she's already faced rejection. What would happen next time?
She had time to regroup and swore she would use it well.

As the months passed, her ability to hope strengthened.

"Is it too much to ask for some certainty!?"
…only for it to come crashing down when one door closed unexpectedly.
There are only a few options left now. All those rode on hope – the one thing she was short on.
Part of her considered giving up on escaping.

And she was already halfway fallen.

"Well, here goes nothing."
The next application cycle, more prompts, and none of the toxicity from last year. She hopes it will make for a better outcome.

There's still a chance for rejection.
There's still a chance she'll never escape.
There's still a chance that a promise will go unfulfilled.

And yet she hopes.