The week following Marcella’s visit was a descent into a cold, clinical madness. Alessandro had kept his word—the guards who had allowed her entry were gone, replaced by men with faces like granite who didn't even acknowledge my existence when I passed them in the hall. The deadbolt on the door remained thrown during the day, a heavy, metallic reminder that I was no longer a student, no longer a woman, but a high-value asset under siege.

I stopped asking for the university. I stopped ...