FINDING ROSE

ROSE

"Rose, are you even listening?"

I blink out of my thoughts as Elsie swats my arm with her notebook. The lecture hall is almost empty now, students rushing out into the afternoon sun while we're still packing up.

"Sorry," I mutter, sliding my laptop into my bag. "What did I miss?"

She leans across the desk, eyes shining. "Applications for the Sterling & Co. internship open next week. Rose, this is it. This is our chance. Do you even realize how huge this is?"

I raise a brow. "Sterling & Co.? You mean the company that chews up nine out of ten applicants before they even see the interview stage?"

Elsie's grin widens. "Exactly. And we're going to be in that one percent. Imagine it, interning at one of the top firms in the world. The kind of name that lands you anywhere you want after graduation."

I laugh softly, shouldering my bag. "Or we get rejected and end up sobbing into a pint of chocolate chip ice cream."

"Speak for yourself," she retorts, tossing her curls back. "I already practiced my confident, hire-me speech in the mirror last night. Twice."

"Of course you did." I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch into a smile.

As we push open the glass doors and step into the bright chaos of the city, Elsie links her arm through mine. The streets hum with traffic, laughter, and the faint smell of coffee drifting from a café across the road.

"You should apply, Rose," she says more gently now. "You're top of the class. If anyone belongs at Sterling & Co., it's you."

I glance at her, warmth spreading through my chest despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. "You really think so?"

"I know so." She bumps her shoulder into mine with a grin. "But first, sushi. If I eat one more sad cafeteria meal, I'll lose my will to live."

I laugh, letting her tug me down the busy sidewalk. "Fine. Lead the way."

We weave through the crowds, dodging students and street vendors, our laughter bouncing over the noise of the street. Elsie tells me about a professor who nearly cried because someone submitted a PowerPoint full of memes instead of a business proposal, and I'm laughing so hard I nearly trip on a crack in the pavement.

By the time we reach the restaurant, the smell of fried tempura and miso soup makes my stomach growl. It's bright, colorful, and buzzing with students. Elsie slides into a booth by the window, practically bouncing with excitement.

Before I can sit, my phone buzzes in my bag. The caller ID makes me smile instantly.

"Auntieee!" I answer as I step outside, my voice filled with joy.

"My beautiful Rose," comes the warm reply, her Nigerian accent wrapping around me like home. Aunty Jane, my uncle's wife, my anchor. "How many times will I tell you to stop calling me Auntie? Just Jane. I'm not that old."