The main character slowly got out of the car and closed the door. Three loud shots fired. The scene turned into violence.

I had been looking at the television for the last twenty minutes. It was giving me more anxiety.

I thought to myself, What a terrible movie to play in a place like this.

But the movie was the only thing that kept me distracted. It was the only thing in the room that was talking. Everyone else was quiet and moments away from crying. Just like me.

People cry from happiness. Other people cry from humor. I was almost crying from fear.

I was sitting in a random room in an airport outside my country, for the first time in my life. No, this wasn’t the VIP lounge. No, it wasn’t even the waiting area before boarding the flight. No, it was definitely not the bathroom.

It was the room where they either send you out on your way, or back home. I didn’t know what it was called.

I kept telling myself, “Brave girl, brave girl... Nothing is going to happen.” I rubbed my sweaty palms on my passport.

I didn’t say anything wrong... Did I? I thought to myself.

I tried to remember every word I had said at the immigration counter. I wondered what I had missed while I was trying to play it cool, like my father had told me to. Had I actually sounded like a fool?

“Can I have your passport, please?” a voice called from right behind me.

I sat in one of the seats filled with anxious people in that small, stuffy room. It was the voice of the same guy who had sent me to that room.

He had already taken my SEVIS receipt for some "routine" check. Now, he wanted to take away the only thing that would show my identity in the world.

I knew that was more of a statement than a request. I handed over the little navy blue passport. It was engraved with the Indian emblem of four lion faces on its cover, all staring at me. They stand for the Indian philosophy that the truth will always win.

I thought, If I don’t win in this situation, they will.

I didn’t really know what would happen after that. The people in that room were people of very few words.

The guy who took my passport didn’t really explain. He quickly hurried to another room. The six tall, muscular, tattooed officers sitting behind the glass counters only spoke once in a while. Only when they had to shout the name of the next person to be questioned.

The people sitting right beside me didn't talk much, either.

“Where are you from?” I asked them.

“Korea,” both said.

Silence. I thought they would ask me the same question, but...

“Where are you going to study?” I asked.

“UCSB,” both said together, almost like robots. They kept smiling.

I stared at them blankly. I gave them a weak smile and went back to silence.

“No... no... please trust me, I have taken my IELTS test,” a girl sobbed bitterly at one of the counters.

The mood in the room immediately tensed. A guy in a black leather jacket got up and started walking restlessly. A cat in a pet carrier started to meow. An officer loudly stamped a passport.

Two flight attendants entered the room. They called out the names of international students whose luggage was still floating on a random belt.

Should I listen to them, or the officers? Neither of them will pronounce my name in a way I understand it.

In that moment, I felt like one of those characters in movies. The kind who find themselves in airports, fighting a fight much larger than themselves. A character who's looking to the sky and romanticizing being the hero of their lives.

I turned around to look one last time. There was no camera. This was real life. I didn’t really have a script.

I just wanted to hear my name now. Whatever pronunciation it might be. I didn’t mind being in hell or heaven, but I definitely didn’t want to be stuck in that room waiting for the last judgment.

An officer entered from another room. He banged the door behind him.

It’s happening.

He looked at the white paper in his hand. I looked at my passport in his hand.

I didn’t work this hard to be sent back home.

He said something. It sounded like my name in gibberish. I didn’t know what to do.