*Chapter One*
The shrill beep of my alarm cracked through the stillness of the room like a warning shot. I groaned and slapped my hand across the screen blindly, silencing it with more force than necessary.
The light that filtered through the single window was pale and sleepy, dust particles swirling in the sunbeam like slow-moving thoughts. My hostel was quiet—just the way I liked it. A modest self-contained room with a small bathroom, a wardrobe I barely used, a bed that squeaked when I turned too fast, and a desk pressed up against the wall, cluttered with notes and empty bottles of water.
It wasn't fancy. It wasn't cute or covered in throw pillows or fairy lights like some of the other girls' rooms. Just a plain space. Functional. Mine.
I had only moved in a few weeks ago after finally deciding I was done with the whole shared-room drama. My last roommate was… let's just say, an experience. Loud, nosy, always in my space. I'd tolerated it until I couldn't anymore. Now, this quiet? This solitude? It was gold.
Life had settled into a boring rhythm. Wake up, classes, eat whatever I could find, maybe hang out with Victor, and then sleep. On repeat. Nothing wild, nothing magical. Just simple, predictable days.
I shuffled toward the sink and started brushing my teeth when my phone buzzed. A message from Victor.
*Victor:* *"You up, old woman?"*
I rolled my eyes, toothpaste foaming in my mouth.
*Me:* *"If I wasn't, you just woke me. Congrats."*
*Victor:* *"My daily good deed is done. You coming by tonight?"*
*Me:* *"Yeah. Nothing better to do with my life, so… sure."*
*Victor:* *"Wow. That's the spirit."*
I smiled a little as I rinsed my mouth. That was Victor—always knowing how to drag the sarcasm out of me.
The day rolled on in its usual blur. Chemistry class. A dull lecture on fluid balance. Some annoying lab work. I moved through it all with half a brain and an empty stomach. Nursing school was no joke, but it was better than idling, better than overthinking.
It wasn't until I was walking back, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, that I saw him. Victor.
He looked up from his phone just in time to almost bump into me.
"Catherine? Wow. You're actually done with school before dark today?"
I snorted. "Barely. I'm half alive."
He laughed, falling into step beside me as we made our way toward the junction.
"You heading back to your place or just pretending to be busy again?" he teased.
"Heading home. But I'll come over later, like I said. You said some people might be around?"
He nodded. "Yeah, just a few guys. Nothing wild. David might drop in. Maybe John."
I waved it off. "That's fine. I'll mostly keep to myself, as always. You know me."
"True," he said, giving me a sideways glance. "Our resident ghost."
"I'm just allergic to unnecessary noise."
He grinned. "And people."
"Exactly."
We walked in silence for a bit, the path to the bus stop wasn't crowded, just the usual trickle of students heading home.
"Oh, by the way," Victor said casually, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "some new faces might pull up tonight."
I looked at him sideways. "New faces? You didn't mention that earlier."
He gave me a sheepish grin. "Yeah, I forgot. I invited a couple guys from my department. They're cool though, nothing loud."
I rolled my eyes. "You always say that right before I find myself stuck in a room full of overconfident guys trying too hard to be funny."
He laughed. "Okay, fair. But seriously, they're chill. You can just hang in the corner, pretend you're not listening."
"Already planned on it," I said with a smirk. "I'll mostly keep to myself. And I'd just follow you there if not I wouldn't have the confidence to show up again. Don't worry about me."
Victor nudged me lightly with his elbow. "You never let anyone worry about you."
"And yet here you are."
He shook his head, smiling. "Touché."
---
The heat lingered like a held breath.
Late afternoon sun pressed down on campus, thick and unrelenting. Students moved slowly, as if the weight of the day pulled at their limbs. I was already drained—two lectures behind me, one more to survive—but I followed Victor to his Hostel anyway. His room had become a kind of refuge. Familiar noise, easy banter, the safety of someone who didn't expect too much from me.
I didn't expect anything different that day,or to meet someone new certainly not someone who would carve himself into my memory like he did.
Certainly not Matthew.
He was leaning against the doorway, half-turned toward someone, his posture loose in that way that spoke of ease and quiet confidence. His skin was smooth and deep-toned, shoulders broad under a black tee, expression unreadable—but his eyes found mine, held a little too long.
And something flickered.
Not lightning. Not romance. Just awareness. The kind that settles under the skin and stays.
Victor noticed it too, though he said nothing at first. We climbed the stairs to his room, the scent of dusty curtains and leftover noodles thick in the air. I dropped onto the edge of his bed while he rummaged for something in the drawer.
"He's been asking about you," Victor said casually.
I looked up. "Who?"
"Matthew."
I said nothing.
"He thought we were a thing. I told him no. Obviously."
There was something in Victor's voice—mild, joking—but edged.
"He asked for your number."
That made my heart do something it had no business doing.
"Did you give it to him?"
Victor smirked. "Told him to ask you himself."
Later, he did.
We crossed paths again downstairs, just outside the hostel gates. He moved toward me like he already knew I'd say yes.
"Hey," he said, his voice low, husky in a way that felt deliberate but not forced. "Mind if I get your number?"
I hesitated only for a breath.
"Sure."
He typed it in himself. No flirtation. No promises. Just that brief, steady look before he handed my phone back.
I returned to my hostel that evening half-expecting the message to come. When it didn't, I told myself it was better that way. I barely knew him. It was just an ordinary moment.
But that didn't stop me from checking my phone every hour.
Between school and exhaustion, I buried the memory somewhere quiet. Practicals, labs, case notes—all of it demanded more than I had to give.
Then the message came.
*Matthew:* "Hey."
One word. Simple. Intentional.
*Me:* "Hi."
*Matthew:* "Sorry I went ghost. Been swamped. Didn't want to text if I had nothing worth saying."
That made me pause.
Not sweet. Not poetic. Just... honest.
We texted back and forth. He asked about my course—nursing—and told me he studied linguistics. We weren't deep, not yet. But there was something about the rhythm of our conversation. The way he responded like he'd been thinking before each reply.
I didn't tell him I'd been waiting.
Didn't say I'd already replayed our first meeting more times than made sense.
When the conversation slowed, I felt something settle in me. Quiet. Warm. Uncertain.
I didn't know him. I knew that.
But I'd felt the shift. And something had started.