I felt the air shift as soon as I stepped into the hall. It was packed with people from all over the world. For a second, I thought I might be the only Black girl here, but who was I kidding? This is one of the most prestigious schools in the world—of course it would be full.
Amelia tugged at my arm, pulling me toward a seat in the front row. She flashed me an enthusiastic smile.
"What do you think? Isn't this just great, being in Fiverton? … Oh wait, I forgot—can I get your number? Please type it in," she said, handing me her phone.
day "Oh, no problem. Sure," I replied, taking the phone and typing quickly.
"So what brought you to Fiverton?" Amelia asked as I handed it back.
"I got a scholarship to pursue a master's degree in medical sciences," I explained. "Eventually, I want to specialize in neurosurgery, but I figured I'd start here before going deeper into my field. What about you?"
"Oh, I'm also here for the same reason," Amelia said. "Before I go into cardiology, I wanted to broaden my knowledge. That's why I'm here."
"That's cool," I said with a small nod.
"Okay, class, stop the discussions. You're missing out," a woman's firm voice cut through the chatter. She looked to be in her late forties as she strode into the room. "I'm Professor Florian, and I'll be taking you today—so pay attention."
Amelia and I exchanged a quick glance before cutting our conversation short, deciding we'd pick it up later .
The class ended far too quickly for my liking. Even though it was just an introduction, something inside me stirred—a fire I hadn't felt in a long time. I couldn't wait to get back to my dorm, open my books, and start reading ahead. I had to be the best again, no matter what. That thought alone made my pulse quicken with determination.
Amelia, on the other hand, was in a world of her own. She hadn't stopped chatting since we left the hall. By the time we made our way to the cafeteria for lunch, she was still going strong—her words tumbling out faster than I could process. She was nice, genuinely nice, and I liked her energy, but God, she could talk. It was endless.
I tried to smile and nod when she asked a question, dropping in an occasional "okay" or "that's true" just to make it seem like I was following. But the truth? I had tuned out a long time ago. Somewhere between her story about a family friend back home and her random thoughts on Harvard's coffee, my brain simply shut down. Hours later, I couldn't even remember half the things she'd said.
I sighed quietly into my drink. Amelia was extroverted to her core, while I leaned more toward the quiet side—an introvert who thrived in silence. She probably didn't even realize how overwhelming her energy could be.
Thank God lunch eventually ended. The moment she finally paused, I chuckled under my breath. Who would've thought I'd feel such pure relief at someone simply being quiet?
The rest of the day flowed smoothly. Our afternoon classes went by without much fuss, no interruptions, no endless chatter—just calm learning. Exactly how I liked it. By the time the final lecture wrapped up, a soft fatigue settled over me. My eyes ached from focusing, my back longed for rest.
As I made my way out of the hall, I couldn't help but smile. It had been a good day. A full day. A day that reminded me why I was here. And now, more than anything, I just wanted to get back to my dorm, collapse on my bed, and recharge.