Chapter 1- The beginning of Maybe
The problem with new beginnings was that they always came with unnecessarily high expectations.
At least mine did.
As the cab slowed down near the university gates, I pushed my headphones off one ear and stared outside for what was probably the fiftieth time in the last ten minutes.
MBA.
Master of Business Administration.
Two whole years.
New city. New people. New life.
Potentially new love of my life.
Okay, maybe that last part was slightly dramatic.
But in my defense, I had spent an unhealthy amount of my teenage years imagining college romance scenes that involved shared umbrellas, accidental hand touches in libraries, and deep conversations under fairy lights.
So really, this was a very important life event for me.
The huge campus gate slowly came into view, crowded with students dragging suitcases, parents giving emotional speeches, and security guards looking deeply exhausted already.
My stomach flipped.
This was it.
This was the beginning of the life I had been waiting for.
I quickly opened the front camera of my phone, checking my face for the third time in five minutes.
Not because I cared too much.
Just enough to avoid looking like someone who had survived a natural disaster on her first day.
I fixed a strand of hair behind my ear and sat up straighter when the driver glanced at me through the mirror.
“You’re joining today, ma’am?” he asked casually.
I smiled immediately.
“Yes!”
Too enthusiastically.
He blinked once before laughing lightly. “First years always look excited. Give it one month.”
I gasped softly. “Please don’t curse my academic journey before it even starts.”
That earned me another laugh.
Good.
There was something oddly relieving about making strangers comfortable around me. Like if people smiled, everything was automatically okay.
The thought came and went so quickly that I barely noticed it.
I turned back toward the window instead.
Students were everywhere now.
Some looked confident. Some terrified. Some already looked like future CEOs.
And then there was me.
A girl who had packed five notebooks, color-coded pens, unrealistic expectations, and absolutely zero emotional preparedness for whatever the next two years were about to do to her.
The cab finally stopped.
My heartbeat instantly sped up.
For one dramatic second, I genuinely considered asking the driver to take one more round around the campus so I could mentally prepare myself.
Instead, I inhaled deeply, grabbed my bag, and stepped out into the humid morning air.
The campus buzzed around me loudly, chaotically, beautifully.
And somewhere between nervous excitement and complete panic, I smiled to myself.
Maybe this place would change my life.
If confidence had a physical form, mine was probably hiding somewhere under the ridiculous amount of luggage beside me.
I stood near the entrance with one suitcase, one backpack, one tote bag, and a rapidly decreasing sense of dignity.
Around me, people moved with purpose.
Students hugged old friends dramatically like they had returned from war instead of summer break. Parents carried bags while giving life advice nobody was listening to. Someone nearby was already crying.
Which was comforting, honestly.
At least I wasn’t the only emotionally unstable person here.
I pulled my suitcase forward confidently. It refused to move. I frowned and pulled harder.
Still nothing.
“Oh my god,” I muttered under my breath, immediately looking around to check if anyone had witnessed my public humiliation.
The wheel had somehow twisted sideways.
Of course it had.
I bent down awkwardly, trying to fix it while balancing my tote bag on one shoulder. The bag slipped immediately.
My water bottle fell out.
Then my earphones.
Then, for reasons I still cannot explain, a packet of biscuits.
Fantastic.
This was exactly the kind of graceful entrance future corporate leaders should make.
A guy passing by picked up my earphones before I could.
“Thanks,” I smiled quickly, slightly embarrassed.
“No problem.”
I nodded politely even though my soul wanted to evaporate on the spot.
After finally wrestling my suitcase back to life, I followed the signs toward the hostel building, mentally reminding myself to look calm and composed.
Fake it till you make it.
Or in my case:
fake it till nobody notices you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing.
The hostel lobby was crowded and loud.
Girls sat on suitcases while calling their parents. Some were already taking selfies together. A group near the staircase looked like they had known each other for years despite meeting approximately seven minutes ago.
Meanwhile, I stood in line near the registration desk rehearsing possible conversations in my head like a socially confused Sim character.
A girl behind me suddenly leaned closer.
“Do you know where Block C is?”
I turned instantly. “No, but we can panic together if you want.”
She stared at me for one second before laughing.
Success.
“I’m serious,” she said between laughs. “This place is huge.”
“I know. I saw three different buildings and immediately accepted my fate.”
She laughed again, and something inside me relaxed a little.
Conversations became easier when the other person smiled.
“I’m in Block B,” I said, adjusting my bag strap. “What about you?”
“Block C. Unfortunately alone and abandoned.”
I gasped softly. “Don’t say that. We literally met thirty seconds ago. We’re emotionally connected now.”
That earned me a dramatic eye roll.
And just like that, the terrifying unfamiliarity of the morning softened a little.
Maybe making friends wouldn’t be so hard after all.
The registration volunteer handed me my room key along with a stack of documents I definitely wasn’t going to read properly.
“Second floor,” she said. “Room 217.”
“Thank you!”
I smiled automatically before stepping aside.
Then immediately stepped aside too much and almost collided with someone carrying coffee.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry-”
The guy barely managed to save his cup in time.
“It’s okay,” he laughed.
“Are you sure? Because I think I almost ruined your entire morning.”
“You’re good.”
I apologized two more times anyway.
Because apparently my life’s purpose was ensuring nobody experienced even minor inconvenience because of me.
I finally dragged myself and my luggage toward the staircase, breathing out slowly once nobody was looking at me anymore.
Okay.
Maybe I was slightly awkward.
Maybe I had almost assaulted three strangers unintentionally within one hour of arriving.
But so far?
This still felt like the beginning of something good.
By the time I reached the second floor, I was approximately ninety percent sweat, ten percent determination.
MBA was already building character in me.
I dragged my suitcase through the corridor, reading room numbers while girls walked in and out carrying pillows, buckets, snacks, and what looked suspiciously like their entire childhood bedrooms.
Room 217.
Finally.
I pushed the door open carefully.
The room was surprisingly nice.
Two beds. Two study tables. A wide window near the corner. Soft cream walls trying very hard to look aesthetic despite the aggressively fluorescent hostel lighting.
And most importantly-
Empty.
“Oh thank god,” I whispered dramatically.
Not because I hated people.
I just needed at least fifteen minutes alone before pretending to function socially again.
I dropped my bags beside the bed near the window and immediately claimed it emotionally.
Window beds had personality.
The other bed was neatly arranged already, meaning my roommate had probably arrived earlier.
I hoped she was nice.
Or at least hygienic.
That felt like a reasonable standard.
After fixing the bedsheet for the third unnecessarily perfect time, I sat near the window and looked outside.
The campus stretched endlessly below.
Students walked between buildings in groups, sunlight falling across pathways lined with trees. Somewhere in the distance, music played faintly from what was probably orientation setup chaos.
It looked exactly like the kind of college life I had imagined for years.
The kind where people accidentally found lifelong friendships.
The kind where someone eventually looked at you and thought,
There you are.
I smiled to myself before immediately feeling stupid about it.
“Romanticizing life again, Mira?” I muttered under my breath.
“Always.”
I froze.
Slowly turning around, I found a girl standing near the doorway holding two iced coffee cups and looking deeply amused.
Okay.
She was pretty.
Not intimidating pretty.
Comfortably pretty.
Like the type of person who probably knew how to do eyeliner and emotional support equally well.
“You talk to yourself?” she asked.
I considered lying.
Then decided against it.
“Only when nobody else is available.”
“That’s honestly valid.”
She walked in and placed one coffee cup on my table casually. “Peace offering. I’m Rhea, by the way. Your roommate.”
I blinked. “You brought me coffee before even knowing me?”
“I support emotionally unstable women.”
I stared at her for one dramatic second.
“I think we’re going to get married.”
She snorted loudly.
Good sign.
Very good sign.
“I’m serious,” I continued. “Most people would’ve waited at least two business days before kindness.”
“Well, you looked like someone who’d either cry or start journaling poetically near the window.”
The embarrassing part was that she wasn’t entirely wrong.
I accepted the coffee with a grateful smile anyway.
And just like that, the room stopped feeling unfamiliar.
After a while, conversation flowed surprisingly easily between us.
Where we were from.
Why MBA.
Hostel complaints already forming despite being here less than two hours.
Normal things.
Comfortable things.
At some point, Rhea casually asked, “So… have you seen him yet?”
I frowned. “Seen who?”
Her expression changed instantly.
Like I had just admitted I didn’t know what oxygen was.
“You’re kidding.”
“Rhea, I literally arrived one hour ago.”
“The guy everyone here is obsessed with?”
“That narrows it down to absolutely nobody.”
She ignored me completely.
“He’s from second year finance specialization. Half the college either wants to date him, be him, or get validation from him.”
I stared at her blankly.
“That sounds deeply unhealthy.”
Rhea laughed. “You’ll understand once you see him.”
“Highly unlikely.”
“He’s actually smart though,” she continued. “Like genuinely smart. Student council, national case competitions, internship offers, networking god… annoyingly good at everything.”
“Ah,” I nodded seriously. “So the college celebrity.”
“Exactly.”
I took another sip of coffee. “And people are normal about him?”
“Absolutely not.”
“That’s comforting.”
Rhea rolled her eyes before leaning back against her chair dramatically. “You know the worst part? He doesn’t even try. That’s what irritates me.”
“You sound personally betrayed.”
“I kind of am.”
I laughed softly.
Okay.
Maybe hostel life wouldn’t be terrible after all.
Rhea looked like she was about to continue her apparently very passionate TED Talk on this mysterious man when her phone buzzed loudly.
“Oh wait,” she glanced at the screen. “The orientation venue changed.”
“Already?”
“Yep. Apparently management students need early exposure to chaos.”
That sounded accurate honestly.
I stood up from the bed with a dramatic sigh. “Wonderful. My future corporate career begins with confusion.”
And somewhere outside our hostel window, the campus buzzed loudly with unfamiliar voices, hurried footsteps, and beginnings neither of us understood yet.
