"New city, new faces… but some shadows never stay behind."
London smelled of rain. The morning air was sharp, laced with the scent of wet cobblestones and the distant hiss of buses weaving through crowded streets. A low murmur of voices drifted from the square outside Kingsford College—students laughing, chattering, belonging.
I adjusted the black shirt clinging to my frame and caught my reflection in a café window. Dark brown hair spilled in layered waves around my face, messy but deliberate. My eyes—brown with a glint like polished wood—looked back at me, steady and determined.
My boots struck the pavement in a measured rhythm as I approached the iron gates of Kingsford College. They towered above me, spires curling like something lifted from the pages of a gothic novel. This was my first step into a new world. London. College. Freedom.
Vikram had already disappeared somewhere into the admin building, walking with that restless carelessness only an older brother could manage. He left me to face the courtyard alone.
That was when I heard them.
Four girls, gathered like queens at their throne—the fountain in the center of the courtyard. Their laughter carried, sharp enough to hook anyone's attention.
The one in the leather jacket saw me first. Sleek blonde hair framed her smirk as she leaned forward, elbows on her knees.
"Well, well… fresh meat."
Her friends laughed.
Another girl tilted her head, a maroon scarf slipping against the pale line of her throat. Her hazel eyes glimmered with mischief.
"Hey, newbie," she called, her voice a tease and a test all at once. "Come here for a sec."
I could have ignored them. Pretended not to hear. But my boots carried me forward, crunching over gravel until I stood before them. Their eyes sharpened in surprise. Most new students froze. I didn't.
I met their stares one by one, calm, steady.
The blonde smirked wider. Chloe Morgan.
"Well look at that," she drawled. "The newbie's got guts."
The scarfed one—Isla Bennet—rested her chin in her hand, studying me like she could already read every line of my story.
"Or maybe," she mused, "she's just too clueless to be scared."
I laughed, light but edged with steel.
"Scared of no girls," I said evenly. "I'm not scared of anything."
Their laughter died. Isla let out a low whistle, a grin tugging at her lips.
"Well damn. She's got bite."
Chloe rose from the bench, leather creaking softly as she stepped into my space. The faint mix of vanilla and leather from her perfume curled into the cool air. Close enough now that I could see the tiny scar near her lip.
"Careful, freshie," she murmured. "Big words like that? Someone's bound to test them."
My smile didn't waver.
"I like challenges."
Her brow arched. Amusement flickered. And then, laughter—short, sharp, approving.
"Alright then," Chloe said. "There's a party tonight. Off campus. You in?"
It was no invitation. It was a dare.
"I'm in."
Chloe's grin bloomed into something dangerous. "Good. Warehouse by the river. Eight o'clock. Don't be late."
She turned, tossing me one last smirk before leading her girls away. Isla lingered a moment longer, hazel eyes glinting, before following.
The courtyard seemed quieter without them, though my pulse still beat quick. I had made my first mark. My first challenge.
---
The Humanities Hall swallowed me into its echoing corridors. Old books. Fresh coffee. Footsteps scattering like whispers.
I slipped into a lecture hall where sunlight streamed through high windows, slanting across rows of wooden desks. A handful of students already filled the room—two girls whispering up front, a boy scribbling frantically, another chewing gum like he had all the time in the world.
I chose a seat midway down the row. Boots tapping, bag at my feet, I let my gaze drift.
That was when she turned toward me. A girl in an oversized hoodie, auburn curls spilling across her shoulders. Her smile was warm, easy.
"First day?"
I smiled back.
"Yeah. Just getting used to all this."
"Maya," she said, offering her hand. "Second year. Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it."
Her friendliness was almost disarming after Chloe and Isla's sharpened edges. I found myself liking her immediately.
Before I could answer, the door creaked open. A tweed-jacketed professor shuffled in, books balanced in his arms. The low hum of chatter vanished.
"Welcome to Literature and Identity," he began.
The title alone tugged me forward. I straightened, notebook open, pen ready. He spoke of stories as mirrors, reflections of identities we try to bury, escape, or reshape. Every word pulled me deeper.
And then his eyes found me.
"You there, in the black shirt. Tell me—can a person ever truly escape the identity they were born with?"
Dozens of heads turned. My first class. My first test.
I met his gaze, steady.
"You can't escape it," I said slowly. "It's always a part of you. But you can shape it. Like clay. You don't erase the foundation—you twist it, build on it, maybe turn it into something no one expected. That's still you. Just… chosen, instead of inherited."
Silence. Then the professor's brows rose in approval.
"Well said. Remember that."
Maya twisted in her seat, whispering with a grin, "Not bad for your first day."
I felt eyes on me—not mocking, but curious. Watching. Measuring.
---
The bell rang. The class spilled into the hallway. Maya lingered, waiting for me, her chatter light as we walked together. I was listening, almost at ease—until my eyes snagged on a figure near the noticeboard.
My chest tightened.
Lisa.
My ex. The last person I expected to find here, in London.
She was scrolling through her phone, hair falling sleek around her face. The sight of her was a blade sliding between my ribs—memories rushing sharp and uninvited. I forced my face still, my stride steady.
Maya didn't notice. But Lisa did. Her eyes lifted, meeting mine across the hallway. Recognition flared—shock, then something unreadable. She didn't speak. Just watched as I walked past.
"Hey, you good?" Maya asked, catching the flicker on my face.
I exhaled slowly. "Yeah. Just saw my ex. Lisa. I really hope she doesn't come to me."
"Oof," Maya breathed, half-whistling. "First-day curse. Don't worry—college is big. You'll learn to dodge like a pro."
We stepped back out into the courtyard. But I still felt Lisa's gaze like a weight between my shoulder blades.
Maya bumped my shoulder with a grin.
"Forget her. You've got bigger things to survive. Like Chloe's warehouse party tonight."
The thought pulled me back. Chloe's smirk. Isla's eyes. The test hanging in the air.
"Yeah," I said. "I'll be there. On time."
"That's the spirit." Maya's grin widened before she melted into the crowd.
I kept walking, the pulse of the city growing louder around me. London was alive, buzzing, unpredictable. And somewhere out there, a warehouse by the river waited—along with the next challenge.
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(Her heart throbbed with the weight of old memories, yet her steps carried her forward. She had no choice.
For every beginning comes with shadows, and some shadows never truly leave.
Perhaps she wasn't just starting a new life in London. Perhaps she was stepping into the trap fate had been weaving for her all along)