The hostel courtyard buzzed with noise — rolling suitcases, shouted names, doors slamming, someone blasting music from a Bluetooth speaker nearby. It was move-in week chaos, and Felicity already felt like she'd aged ten years.
"Block B's full," Bisola announced, dragging her box behind her. "They said we should try upstairs."
"Upstairs is full too," Mope groaned. "I've checked. Even the one that smells like wet socks."
Felicity exhaled, gripping the handle of her suitcase. "So basically, we're homeless."
"Temporarily homeless," Bisola corrected, grinning. "We'll find something."
They turned another corner, their footsteps echoing down the hall — and then a familiar voice called out.
"Mope? Oh my God, is that you?"
They all looked up.
A tall girl stood at the end of the hallway, leaning casually against a doorframe. Her hair was a cascade of glossy curls, her nails perfectly done, and her perfume floated in the air like confidence itself.
"Charity?" Mope gasped.
The two girls ran toward each other, hugging tightly like long-lost sisters.
Felicity blinked, recognizing the name instantly. Charity. Leon's ex. The one he'd said was "a mess he couldn't stay away from."
"You're back on campus?" Mope said, grinning.
Charity nodded. "New semester, new me," she joked, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Then she noticed Felicity and Bisola standing behind Mope. "Oh, you came with friends?"
"Yeah! Felicity and Bisola," Mope said, motioning to them. "We've been searching for a room since morning. Everything's packed."
Charity tilted her head, her tone easy and friendly. "You're in luck then — I've got space. It's a four-man room, but I'm the only one in it so far. You guys can move in."
Mope's face lit up. "Wait, for real? You just saved our lives!"
Bisola let out a dramatic sigh of relief. "God bless you. I was ready to sleep in the common room."
Charity laughed. "Please don't. Come on in."
They stepped into the room — neat, bright, smelling faintly of new paint and vanilla air freshener. Charity had already claimed the bottom bunk, her side perfectly arranged, from a color-coded stack of books to a small framed quote on her desk.
"Wow, this place looks nice," Bisola said. "You've got taste."
"Thanks," Charity said, flashing a smile. "I like things looking calm."
Felicity managed a polite nod as she set her bag down beside Mope's. "It's really nice of you to let us in."
"Of course," Charity said. "We girls have to look out for each other."
Her tone was warm — disarmingly so.
And that threw Felicity off.
Because Leon's version of Charity wasn't this. He'd described her as intense, unpredictable, a walking storm — the kind of girl who could make you feel alive one second and trapped the next. But this Charity? She seemed… normal. Calm. Even funny.
Felicity couldn't decide if that made her feel better or worse.
As they unpacked, the room filled with chatter — Mope talking about classes, Bisola ranting about lecturers, Charity laughing at nearly everything. She was easy to talk to, magnetic in a quiet way.
"So, Felicity," Charity said after a while, glancing over. "You're new to this hostel, right?"
"Yeah," Felicity said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "First time staying on campus."
"Nice. You'll love it here. It's always lively — though sometimes a bit too lively."
Felicity smiled faintly. "I can handle that."
Mope jumped in. "You should see her when she's stressed. She turns into an auntie."
"Please," Bisola added, laughing. "She color-codes her notes like she's getting graded on neatness."
Charity laughed too. "Then she's the perfect roommate. You'll balance out my chaos."
For the first time that day, Felicity genuinely smiled
But later that night, when the laughter quieted and the room lights dimmed, Felicity lay on her bunk staring at the ceiling.
Across the room, Charity was on her phone, her soft giggle breaking the silence.
And Felicity couldn't help wondering if Leon's name was on the other end of that laughter — if maybe, just maybe, the story between them wasn't as over as he'd made it sound.
She rolled over, pressing her face into her pillow, trying not to think about it.
But deep down, she already knew — this semester was going to be far from peaceful.