The door opened just after noon.
Cassandra was sitting on her bed by the window, knees drawn up, her phone face-down beside her, when she heard footsteps pause outside their room. A second later, the handle turned.
A girl stepped in, rolling a suitcase behind her.
She was tall, with warm brown skin and a confidence that filled the room before she spoke. Her curls were pulled into a loose ponytail, and she wore an oversized sweatshirt that looked far too comfortable to be new.
"Hi," the girl said, smiling easily. "I'm Marissa."
Cassandra straightened slightly. "Cassandra."
Marissa's smile widened. "Nice to meet you."
She took in the room quickly, eyes flicking from the beds to the window. "Guess we're roommates."
"Looks like it," Cassandra replied.
Marissa claimed the bed opposite hers, dropping her suitcase with a sigh. "I swear these stairs are a workout. I almost turned back halfway."
Cassandra smiled faintly but didn't comment.
Marissa chatted as she unpacked—about the drive, about nearly getting lost, about how the campus looked bigger than she expected. Cassandra listened, responding when necessary, but mostly observing. She had always been good at that. Watching first. Speaking later.
They were still mid-conversation when the door opened again.
This time, a shorter girl entered, dragging a floral-patterned bag and humming softly to herself. She stopped when she saw them and grinned.
"Oh! Hi. I'm Kayla."
"Marissa," Marissa said immediately, pointing at herself. "And that's Cassandra."
Kayla's eyes lit up. "Nice to finally meet you both. I was worried I'd be the last one."
"You are," Marissa said cheerfully. "But we forgive you."
Kayla laughed and dropped her bag onto the remaining bed. "I like this room already."
The three of them talked—slowly at first, then more freely. Kayla spoke about her hometown and how her mother had cried when she left. Marissa shared stories about her siblings. They asked Cassandra where she was from, what she liked, what classes she was excited about.
She answered honestly, briefly.
She didn't mention the Carter name. Didn't mention expectations or legacy. Just facts. Just enough.
To her own surprise, the tightness in her chest began to ease.
She liked them. Not in a sudden, overwhelming way—but in a quiet, cautious sense of comfort. They didn't pry. Didn't push. They filled the silence without demanding she do the same.
As the afternoon wore on, laughter replaced awkward pauses. Shoes were kicked off. Someone suggested food later. Cassandra found herself nodding along, agreeing without overthinking.
When there was a lull, she reached for her phone.
Cass: Settled in. Roommates seem nice.
A reply came almost instantly.
Anthony: Good. Proud of you.
A second message followed.
Michael: Tell them not to mess with you or they answer to us.
She smiled to herself.
Cass: You're both ridiculous.
She set the phone down and glanced around the room—at Marissa sprawled across her bed scrolling through pictures, at Kayla carefully arranging photos on her desk.
This was the beginning.
She didn't know yet how much Crestwood would take from her—or give her—but for the first time since stepping through those doors, Cassandra allowed herself to believe she might belong here.
And for now, that was enough.