Three years of studies had been both gruelling and rewarding. I was now 80% through my bachelor degree, anxiously awaiting the results of my final semester, with an internship looming on the horizon. The exhaustion had been so intense at times that I'd felt on the verge of collapse, tempted to shut everything out, to just disappear. There was even a moment when the thought of leaving it all behind seemed almost comforting.
But today, I was headed home for the first time in a long while. I missed it more than I’d care to admit, though the flight back felt like a brief escape rather than a homecoming. The long bus ride wasn’t an option; I couldn’t bear the thought of six or seven hours on the road when my mind was already a swirling storm of unfinished thoughts and anxieties.
Despite the emotional toll, I’d kept my grades up, consistently maintaining a GPA between 3.8 and 4.0. My CGPA hovered at an impressive 3.98, though even that felt less like an achievement and more like an expectation weighing me down. Lately, my thoughts had been consumed by the future—researching companies near the city, eyeing opportunities that could shape the career I hadn’t fully decided on yet. Naturally, I set my sights on the larger firms, the ones that came with prestige, resources, and endless potential. It seemed like the logical choice, though the uncertainty of what awaited still gnawed at me.
For three years, I’d thrown myself into my studies, deliberately closing off any emotional entanglements. The idea of love had grown distant, though I couldn't deny the quiet longing for connection that simmered beneath the surface. But men, especially after the near-trauma I had with a senior during that camping trip, had become a source of fear. I narrowly escaped a situation that could have destroyed me, and the memory still haunted me, reinforcing my distrust.
Yet, amidst all the walls I had built, there was Kaia. She was a senior, with the kind of athleticism and effortless charisma that made her impossible to ignore. Always surrounded by people, always moving—whether it was on the track, in the gym, or leading some club event—Kaia exuded a magnetic confidence that seemed to pull everyone toward her.
At first, I watched her from afar, admiring her strength and how comfortable she was in her skin. Gradually, my admiration deepened. I didn’t know if it was a crush or simply an attraction to her energy, but whatever it was, it left me feeling conflicted. Every conversation we shared left my heart racing, and I caught myself thinking about her more than I should have. But I was terrified to make it obvious.
No one would accept this side of me. Certainly not Stella or Irene. Though they were my best friends, they weren’t exactly supportive when it came to LGBT relationships. I could only imagine their reactions if they knew. And my mom? She wasn’t as severe as some parents, but still, she held firm traditional values. The societal norms here were suffocating, the stereotypes too deeply ingrained. People like me were never truly welcome. I had to hide, keep it all to myself, and resign myself to living in the shadows, concealing this part of who I was.
The weight of it all was crushing. I longed for love, but at what cost? The fear of rejection—by my friends, by my family, by society—kept me locked in silence. And so, I remained isolated, silently yearning for something more, yet too afraid to reach for it.
I delved deeper into my internship search, and the pressure of app development weighed heavily on me. I had spent the last three years refining my skills—writing code late into the night, pushing through courses on algorithms, database management, and more—but nothing compared to the thought of putting it all to the test in a real-world setting. My professors constantly emphasized how crucial an internship was for computer science students. It was the bridge between theory and practice. For someone like me, who had become so focused on academic performance, the idea of entering a professional environment filled me with both excitement and dread.
I knew what I was looking for: an internship in app development, something that would allow me to immerse myself in both mobile and web development. I’d researched countless companies, from startups to established tech firms, hoping to find one that offered real exposure to the full app development lifecycle. But the competition was fierce, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that even with my strong grades, I wasn’t fully prepared.
I spent hours on job portals and LinkedIn, poring over descriptions of different roles. I was drawn to positions that promised experience in mobile frameworks like Flutter or React Native, but I couldn’t afford to be selective. I needed a place where I could learn to translate everything, I’d studied into actual code that people would use—and not just any code, but clean, efficient code capable of supporting thousands, maybe millions, of users.
The more I researched, the more I realized how much I still had to learn. I’d practiced Java and Kotlin for Android, dabbled in Swift for iOS, and experimented with React Native for cross-platform development. But there was so much more to app development than writing code. I needed to understand how to connect the frontend to backend services, use APIs efficiently, and manage databases like Firebase or SQLite.
But alongside the excitement of learning was an ever-present fear. The tech industry wasn’t exactly known for being the most welcoming to women—and even less so for people like me, still figuring out how to express their identity. The thought of navigating office politics and dealing with colleagues who might not be as accepting felt exhausting. How could I focus on my career when a part of me was still hiding in the shadows?
Kaia kept slipping into my thoughts as I filled out application after application. Her presence offered some form of reassurance, though I couldn’t quite explain why. I often wondered what she would say if she knew the real reason I was so afraid of getting too close to people, of being found out for who I really was. In a way, the internship search became a distraction from these deeper fears. I could focus on the technical challenges and push aside everything else.
But no matter how much I tried to focus, the weight of uncertainty pressed down on me. Would I be good enough? Would I find a place where I could thrive? Or would I spend my summer feeling like an imposter, struggling to keep up with more experienced developers?
.
.
.
In Rivertown, one of the leading subsidiaries of Summit River Corp that I’d been researching for my internship was QuantumNet Solutions. A division of the larger Summit River Corp, QuantumNet Solutions had gained recognition for its pioneering work in app development and software engineering. Its focus on creating scalable mobile applications for sectors like healthcare, finance, and entertainment made it one of the most dynamic tech firms in the city.
As a computer science student, QuantumNet's innovative environment was immensely appealing. Interns had the opportunity to dive into every aspect of app development, from designing user-friendly interfaces to optimizing backend infrastructure. Summit River Corp had a reputation for fostering talent, and QuantumNet’s mentorship programs allowed interns like me to collaborate with experienced developers, solve real-world problems, and sharpen our skills in a fast-paced, professional setting.
Working under a company like Summit River Corp wasn’t just an opportunity—it was a potential career-defining moment. The skills I’d gain, the knowledge I’d acquire, and the connections I’d build within the tech community in Rivertown could set me on a trajectory for future success. All I had to do was secure that internship.