“You’re not bothering me.”
She swallowed. “My parents didn’t come either.”
The words entered the air softly, but they struck with force.
I stepped away from the wall.
“They wanted me to go into medicine,” she continued. “I chose operations and sustainability. They said it was a phase. Then they said they were busy. But really, they were disappointed.”
Her fingers tightened around her diploma cover.
“When you said not to measure your future by who claps at the beginning…” She let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “I needed that.”
For a moment, I could not speak.
Then I said, “What’s your name?”
“Priya.”
“Priya,” I said, “I’m proud of you.”
Her face changed.
Not dramatically. Not like in movies. But something inside her seemed to unclench.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
We spoke for a few minutes. She told me about her capstone project, about water systems in drought-prone regions, about a job offer she was scared to accept because it was in another state and would make the distance with her family feel permanent.
