(Nina's POV)
I didn't cry when the cab pulled away.
I thought I would. Thought I'd break down in front of this new place with its wide sidewalks, tall trees, and perfect students laughing like life had never cornered them. But I didn't cry. I just stood there. Alone. Holding a duffel bag and a thousand unspoken things.
Parkside University.
It sounded prettier on paper than it looked in person. But maybe that was just me — always expecting too much and getting too little.
I adjusted the strap on my floral SHEIN peplum top, the one with the singlet sleeves. It clung just right to my chest and softened the shape of my shoulders. My jeans hugged my hips like they were made for me, and my white sneakers were already a little scuffed from the journey. It didn't matter. I wasn't here to look perfect. I was here to breathe.
Breathe, Nina.
That's what I kept telling myself. Every second since I left home.
Home.
I hate that word now. Or maybe I just don't know what it means anymore.
My phone buzzed in my back pocket. I didn't need to check it to know it was my mom. Her messages always came laced with tension and expectation — reminders disguised as love.
"Make sure you don't waste this opportunity. Your father and I sacrificed enough."
I locked the screen without opening it.
It's not that I hate her. It's worse. I remember when she used to smile — really smile — with her whole face. When she braided my hair on Sunday afternoons and sang while she cooked. I remember how my dad used to dance with her in the living room after work, holding her like the world didn't matter.
But things changed.
The smiles cracked. The laughter stopped.
And Kuti… my older brother, he unraveled right in front of us. Drugs. Rage. Paranoia. His body is still walking around, but he's not there anymore.
He broke.
And we broke with him.
My mom's body thinned from stress. My dad disappeared into himself. My little sister buried herself in books and cartoons and learned how to ignore what she couldn't understand.
And me?
I just wanted to escape.
"Hey! You must be Nina!"
I turned and saw her — a light-skinned girl jogging toward me like a sunbeam that had learned how to walk.
She was stunning. Effortlessly. Her curls framed her face in wild, pretty spirals, and her skin had that golden glow that made you wonder if she even knew how beautiful she was. No makeup. Just full brows, clear eyes, and a tiny silver nose ring that somehow made her even cooler.
"I'm Sophie," she grinned. "Your roommate. Come on — I saved you the bottom bunk. I like being close to the ceiling, so I don't get in anyone's way. Or maybe because I'm a star. Either way, I like you already."
She barely gave me time to answer. Just took my bag and started walking, like we'd known each other forever.
Linden Hall looked like every other freshman dorm on the outside. But the room we walked into was already alive — fairy lights strung along the ceiling, soft throw pillows in the corners, a vanilla-citrus candle burning on her desk. It didn't feel like a room. It felt like someone had decided this place was going to mean something.
"You okay?" Sophie asked while unpacking. "You're kinda quiet."
"Just tired," I said.
She nodded, like that made perfect sense. Like she could feel it — the weight behind my words. And she didn't push.
I liked her already.
She flopped onto her bed and kicked off her shoes. "Okay, tell me your whole life story in three sentences or less. Go."
I blinked. "I… moved a lot. I'm from here… and not. And I just want peace."
Her eyes lit up. "Love that. Big main character energy."
I smiled — not a fake one. A real one. The kind that tugged at the creases near my mouth, the ones that almost looked like dimples.
We talked a little more — well, she talked, and I mostly nodded — until she passed out mid-sentence, curled up on the top bunk like a girl who didn't carry the world on her shoulders.
I lay awake.
Staring at the fairy lights. Breathing in the quiet.
I missed my brother. The version of him who pushed me on swings and called me "champ." The one who told the worst jokes and threatened boys who looked at me the wrong way.
I missed my parents. Before they turned into shadows. Before surviving became their only goal.
I missed myself too — the girl who believed home was something safe.
Eventually, the silence got too loud.
I slipped on my hoodie and tiptoed out of the room, past the common lounge, and into the cool night air.
Campus looked different at night. Softer. Less polished.
I expected stillness — but there were clusters of students scattered on benches and lawns, talking like midnight was their favorite time of day.
I kept walking until I found a quiet corner near the back of the dorm. I leaned against a brick wall, letting the cold soak into my hoodie, not thinking about anything in particular.
Then I heard him.
A voice. Calm. Poised. Like it didn't need to be loud to be heard.
I couldn't see his face — just the curve of his shoulders in the dim light and the movement of his hands as he spoke to a group of guys nearby.
"…life stops becoming difficult once you stop lying to yourself. Own the bad when you do bad, and the good when you do good. That's how peace begins. Not from outside… but the moment you stop trying to convince yourself that wrong feels right."
No one responded immediately.
And that silence — the kind where everyone's just sitting with what was said — it pulled me in. I wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but his words reached something raw in me.
He didn't sound like someone trying to impress. He wasn't the guy girls hovered around like flies, flashing charm like a weapon.
He just… spoke. And people listened.
There's something rare about a man who makes other men quiet. Who commands attention without forcing it. Who speaks, and it settles in your bones before you even realize you're holding onto every word.
I didn't know who he was.
But I felt it.
He was going to matter.
Maybe too much.