Sophie Esinberg's POV
I learned I was going to Paris the same way I learned most life-altering information, over a phone call that began with someone else panicking. Historically, these calls had preceded events like discovering my landlord had sold the building and forgotten to give us notice, sleeping on the cold tile floor of an airport in Milan because my best friend misread P.M. as A.M., and being informed midway through my commute, while wearing a hoodie, that the "casual dinner" I was headed to was actually a black-tie fundraiser.
In fairness, context usually softened the blow.
Mr. Mekonnen was seventy-five and later diagnosed with Alzheimer's, so none of the tenants truly complained when he forgot to warn us before selling the building out from under our lives. Justin had always been enthusiastic and catastrophically bad at details, regardless of whether those details involved dinner plans or international flight times. And the last incident was simply the inevitable consequence of having two male best friends who treated logistics like an optional accessory.
They meant well. They just remembered important information at the very last possible second.
This time, it was Daniel.
Five minutes ago, he had called me, already breathless, and told me I needed to book flight tickets to Paris for tomorrow.
Tomorrow.
The word echoed in my head like a dare. As if I had a secret savings account labelled Emergency Paris Fund, just waiting for the right moment. As if spontaneous international travel was a lifestyle choice and not a financial threat.
I stared at my laptop, still closed, already exhausted by the idea of opening it. Somewhere between grant rejections and unpaid invoices, Paris felt less like a destination and more like a punchline.
And yet, my phone was still warm in my hand, Daniel's panic lingering in the air, and I knew from experience that once a call like this happened, resistance was mostly theoretical.
"It looks like I have to go to Paris", I told Justin as I opened my laptop and looked at the email sitting in my inbox where Daniel had replied on my behalf.
"You want to go to Paris, or you're being summoned by the French government?"
"I'm going for an event," I said biting the cuticles as I glanced at another email that was sent by the Ethiopian Government about an hour ago. Just another email sitting in my inbox, casually dropped into my morning like an unpinned grenade.
After reading it my heart sank so sharply it felt physical, like someone had driven a fist straight into my gut. I had stared at the screen, blinking again and again, as if the words might rearrange themselves out of mercy.
But they didn't.
"An event?" Justin's voice came through the phone and broke the stillness I had been clinging to.
I took a slow breath and told myself this was the only option left. That I had to go. That this event was my last chance to save what I had sacrificed sleep, certainty, and many years of my life to build. The more I repeated it, the clearer it became that the decision had not been made by me. It had simply been made for me.
"Yes," I said, my voice tight. "Danny confirmed my availability with the organizers without even asking me." I rubbed my temples, searching for some temporary relief. "Now I am supposed to catch the earliest flight to Paris and be there by tomorrow."
I exhaled, sharp and humourless. "How does one even do that?"
The pressure behind my eyes deepened as my thoughts ran too fast for my body to keep up. Every muscle felt tense, overstretched, as if my mind had already begun the journey and dragged the rest of me along with it.
"Okay, I have no context about anything you just said."
"I have to pack for a week and book my flight tickets. I cannot leave the lab to run on its own like this. You know how bad the situation is. I told Danny about it, and of course he went ahead and did whatever he thought was best." I kept ranting, the words spilling out of me unchecked, like a tap left open.
"And what is that?" Justin asked.
"What?" I said, caught off guard.
"What did Danny think was best?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it again, the answer suddenly heavier than the panic that had carried me this far. Because deep down I knew what Danny did was the tactical right thing to do. That his intentions were only trying to keep the sinking ship afloat.
"Oh. Remember the award nomination I mentioned a few months ago?"
"You mean Le Prix d'Excellence?" Justin asked.
"Yes. That one." I paced the length of the room, phone pressed to my ear. "Danny not only accepted the nomination, he also RSVP'd on my behalf. Now I have to show up at some absurdly fancy award ceremony with absolutely no preparation."
I stopped and stared at my reflection in the dark window. "I have not shaved my legs in a month. Do not even get me started on my eyebrows. I look like a camel."
"Okay," Justin said carefully, "don't panic."
"Do not tell me not to panic," I snapped, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "That only makes me panic more."
The urge to shout climbed up my throat, sharp and insistent, and I swallowed it back, gripping the phone like it might keep me grounded.
"You're right. Sophie, listen to me." Justin's voice shifted, steadier now, like he had finally found solid ground. "You are going to Le Prix. Do you even understand what that means? Half of Hollywood will be there. Probably world-famous athletes too. People whose faces you have seen on billboards and magazine covers while buying groceries."
I sank onto the edge of the bed, phone pressed to my ear, staring at the floor.
"I know Danny made the decision without asking you," he continued, "and no, that part was not okay. But look at the bright side. You are walking into a room filled with businessmen and philanthropists. People who have more money than they know what to do with and no idea where to put it."
I closed my eyes.
"That is exactly what you need right now," he said. "Not another grant rejection. Not another polite email. You need to be seen."
"Yeah," I said softly. "You're right."
"I know I am," he replied, and I could hear the smug smile settling into his voice.
"That still does not mean what Danny did was right," I added, the words heavier now that the panic had begun to thin.
"No," Justin agreed. Then, without hesitation, "You know what? I am coming too. Send me the details."
I frowned. "You are?"
"Yes. You and Danny clearly need supervision." He sounded maddeningly calm, like global chaos was a minor inconvenience he had already scheduled around. "Someone has to play referee and make sure neither of you commits a felony before dessert."
Despite myself, a breath of laughter slipped out.
Sometimes I wondered if Justin had ever experienced anxiety as an emotion. Or if the world simply bounced off him while the rest of us absorbed every impact.
The call ended, but the quiet that followed felt louder than the panic had.
I sat there for a long moment, phone resting uselessly in my palm, and let the truth settle. For the past three years, the Ethiopian government and a patchwork of research grants had kept my lab alive. Not thriving. Just breathing. Enough funding to pay stipends, replace broken equipment, keep the lights on and the filters running. Enough to believe that if I worked harder, if I refined the models and improved the data, the doors would stay open.
They had not.
I thought of the first grant approval, the email I had opened on a cracked laptop while sitting on the lab floor because we did not have chairs yet. I remembered the way my hands had shaken as I read the words approved for funding, how I had laughed out loud in an empty room that smelled of disinfectant and ambition. That money had bought us our first prototype, a temperamental system that leaked half the time but worked well enough to give people clean water. I had believed then that momentum was permanent.
Another memory followed. A later year. Another proposal. I saw myself standing in front of a review committee, sleeves rolled up, explaining maintenance cycles and community training like my life depended on it. Because it did. They had nodded, asked difficult questions, approved the funds with careful smiles. I had walked out into the sun feeling lighter, convinced that persistence was a strategy.
Now persistence felt naïve.
The lab had grown since then. New faces. Younger researchers who looked at me like I knew what I was doing. Whiteboards filled with equations. Filters stacked neatly along the walls. I had promised them stability with the confidence of someone who believed effort always paid off.
But lately, every email had begun the same way. We regret to inform you.
It felt like the walls were closing in, one polite rejection at a time. Like every familiar door had quietly locked while I was too busy working to notice.
I pressed my palms to my eyes and exhaled slowly.
Paris was not part of the plan. An award ceremony was not a solution. But maybe it was not a coincidence either. Maybe it was the last open room when all the others had gone dark.
The thought settled uncomfortably in my chest.
I stood, already moving toward my suitcase, knowing that for the first time in years, survival might depend less on research and more on being seen.
***
Dear Ms. Esinberg,
We regret to inform you that your application for financial assistance under the Filter Fresh Aqua Life Project, requesting funding of ETB 55,000,000, has not been approved.
We acknowledge and appreciate the ambition and humanitarian intent of your proposal. The Ministry recognizes the importance of improving access to clean and filtered water for local communities, and we commend the noble objectives outlined in your application.
However, after careful evaluation, the review committee concluded that the project, in its current form, would require further innovation and long-term maintenance planning to be sustainably scaled to meet the needs of the intended regions. As such, the proposal does not presently meet the funding criteria required for implementation. Therefore, further funding for this project has been declined for the next fiscal year.
We encourage you to continue refining the project and welcome future submissions should additional advancements be made.
Thank you for your interest in partnering with the Ministry of Water Resources.
Sincerely,
Grant Review Committee
Ministry of Water Resources
