I couldn't stop shaking, my mind racing with confusion and fear. Had I really seen a ghost? How did Felicity know about my research direction? Was it possible she had some kind of surveillance implanted in my brain?
Since then, I had stopped conducting experiments at school. With new phones and computers, I made it a point to carry a scanner every day, meticulously scanning everything I brought with me. Yet, despite all my precautions, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was missing something crucial.
Just then, my phone rang—Felicity was calling. "Hey, Quinn! How's your paper coming along? I wanted to share my new research direction with you so we don’t end up in the same area. I’m just a graduate student, and I know I’m not as strong as you, so if we’re on the same path, could you switch to another topic?" Her voice was playful, but I felt a chill run down my spine.
I remained silent, unwilling to engage. She continued, lamenting the struggles of being a graduate student. "I’m the hope of my whole village. Please, show some kindness and give me a chance to stay in school. Finding a job will be easier for you than for me."
After our call, she wasted no time posting on her Facebook story, casually mentioning our “friendly exchange” and sharing her research direction. Almost instantly, someone commented, questioning whether she wasn’t afraid of leaking secrets or getting plagiarized.
With a smirk in her tone, she replied, "Oh, my senior is the only PhD student in our class. How could she ever plagiarize someone as insignificant as me? Besides, with her family's wealth, she doesn’t even need to write a paper. She can just go home and take over the family business. I only have this one shot, sob."
Felicity had studied as an undergraduate at this school, immersing herself in various clubs and student unions, which allowed her to build a substantial network of friends. Her connections included influential students who held a strong voice across campus.
She had a habit of posting on Facebook story almost daily, and with the onset of our competition, her posts became even more frequent. She crafted a narrative of hard work, portraying herself as less capable than me but utterly dedicated.