Page 105 of Written in Scent

But the weight of everything remains, pressing heavy against my ribs.

I’m almost to the wide stone steps of the entrance when someone collides with my shoulder. The bump is light, accidental, and a warm voice immediately follows.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. This is what I get for being attached to this thing.”

I look up and find myself facing a tall woman with sharp, confident features and rich brown eyes, holding up her phone. She’s an alpha, the subtle shift in the air around her makes that clear. She tucks her phone away and offers a quick, genuine smile.

“I really didn’t mean to nearly knock you over. Are you OK?”

I nod, adjusting the strap of my bag. “I’m fine. No harm done.”

Her expression brightens with sudden recognition. “Wait. You’re Elodie Maddison, right? The freshman entomologist who nabbed the spot on the rainforest field trip?”

The words land with surprise, like a small unexpected gift. She says “entomologist” the same way other people might say “doctor” or “artist,” with real respect.

“Yes,” I answer, a cautious smile tugging at my lips. “That's me.”

“I’m Ally,” she says, extending her hand. “Ecology senior. I’m going on the trip too. When Dr. Okonkwo announced the list to our class I actually cheered out loud in the middle of the lecture hall. A freshman earning that spot? That’s huge! I’ve been dying to meet you.”

Her excitement feels real, the kind that doesn’t come with any hidden agenda.

She tilts her head, a light, playful smile curving her mouth. “You carry yourself like someone who already belongs out there, you know? That assured confidence. I bet you’re going to be the one who spots something no one else does.”

The compliment is nice, almost flirty in the lightest way, and I feel my cheeks heat despite everything weighing on me. It’s refreshing. So refreshing. I let myself respond with polite warmth, the first real conversation I’ve had since last night that doesn’t feel like it’s walking on broken glass.

“Thank you,” I say. “I’m really looking forward to it. The chance to study chemical ecology in situ… it’s everything I’ve been working toward.”

Ally’s smile widens. “Same. I can’t wait to be out there with you. We’re going to make a great team.”

We chat easily when Ally leans in a little closer, gesturing with one hand as she describes the research station we’ll be staying at. Her excitement is infectious, and for a few precious seconds I let myself lean into the feeling of being seen as a colleague rather than anything else.

Then she pauses mid-sentence. Her head tilts slightly and she draws in a breath through her nose. The shift in her expression is immediate and unmistakable. The warm, open smile fades into something more guarded. Her eyes flick over me again, this time with new understanding.

“Oh,” she says, pulling back a respectful distance. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were accounted for. I should not have been flirting like that.”

The words land with a dull thud. Accounted for. As if that single fact overrides everything else about me.

Before I can respond, Ally gives a small, awkward laugh and shrugs one shoulder. “Ah, that makes sense now. That’s why a freshman got the spot on the trip. Being with the Whitmore pack has its perks, huh?”

The comment hits me like ice water poured straight down my spine. For a moment I can’t breathe. The words echo in my head, ugly and casual, as if she hadn’t just dismissed weeks of late nights in the archives, careful pinning work, and the paper I poured my soul into.

I can’t decide which hurts more.

The fact that she immediately reduced me to an omega or the assumption that I only earned my place on the trip because I belong to a powerful pack.

The fragile spark of hope I felt only moments ago flickers and dies. The injustice of it all crashes over me again, heavier than before.

No matter how hard I work, no matter how many hours I spend bent over specimen drawers or writing immaculate notes, one breath is all it takes for someone to decide my merit doesn’t matter.

I force a polite smile that feels brittle on my face. “It was nice meeting you, Ally,” I say, trying to maintain some poise. “I should get to class.”

She nods, looking slightly uncomfortable now, but I don’t wait for anything more. I turn and walk away from her, shoulders tight, the late October chill suddenly cutting deeper than it did before.

The worst part is knowing she’s probably not even the first person to think it.

The wind slips between the bare branches overhead and presses against my skin, but I barely feel it. Everything feels muffled and distant, I turn away from the beautiful building that holds my classes.

A few steps later I spot an empty bench beneath a cluster of skeletal trees. I sink onto the cold wood and pull my poetry notebook from my bag for the first time in a few days. My fingers tremble as I open it to a fresh page. I need the words right now more than I ever have.