The persistent patter of rain against the windowpane was Terah's unwelcome alarm clock. She stretched, groaning as she felt the familiar ache in her shoulders from another night of disturbed sleep. She knew, with a certainty that chilled her more than the morning damp, that it was going to be a bad day.

“No umbrella,” she muttered, peering out at the heavily pouring rain. Her mother’s constant nagging about always carrying one echoed in her ears, a familiar, ignored refrain. Yesterday had been sunny, bright, and deceptively promising. Today, the sky wept, mirroring the exhaustion that settled deep in her bones.

She scanned the street from her tiny window, watching blurred figures scurry past, some huddled under umbrellas, others embracing beneath the meager shelter of a single canopy. A pang of something akin to jealousy, sharp and quick, pierced her. At twenty-three, with the weight of seven younger siblings and a never-ending list of bills, a boyfriend felt like an impossible luxury, a distant dream she hadn't dared to entertain.

“Studies, Terah,” she whispered to herself, pulling on her uniform. “Focus on the studies.”