The dorm Mia had chosen wasn't the newest on campus, but it was solid—red-brick walls, narrow windows, and heavy locks on every door. To the average student, it was just another building. To Mia's brother, it was security he could control.
Inside, the girls' dorm was already marked by their different lives blending together: a pile of textbooks on one desk, makeup spread across another, and a blanket of midnight blue draped carelessly over the chair where they had a movie marathon the previous night
Ava sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a stack of notebooks. She was quiet, focused, her dark hair falling forward as she scribbled down neat outlines for the next week. She studied psycology, her notebooks filled with thoughts about parts of the brain and how they help process certain emotions . There was a steadiness about her, the kind that made people lean in when she finally chose to speak.
On the dinning table across from the living room was sprawled Lena, all long limbs and restless energy. She was the type to kick off her shoes the moment she walked in. A fine arts student, Lena painted at odd hours, leaving streaks of color on her fingers and charcoal smudges on her cheek and various stains all around the house. Loud, dramatic, and playful, she balanced Ava's quiet with her own unfiltered voice.
By the window sat Clara, glasses perched low as she typed furiously on her laptop. She was studying pre-med, and her desk was always lined with anatomy notes, half-drunk coffee cups, and highlighters in every shade. Organized, disciplined, but sometimes too hard on herself, Clara was the glue that tried to keep the chaos in line.
Mia leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. She didn't live here full-time, but when she did, the dorm shifted around her. She was fire where Ava was calm, sharp edges where Clara was measured, confidence where Lena was careless. But Ava was the one she gravitated toward—they sat in the same lectures, shared notes, and sometimes exchanged whispers in class that made professors sigh.
"Clara, you're gonna fry your brain if you keep staring at that screen," Mia said, smirking.
Clara didn't look up. "Better than failing. Some of us actually need grades to survive."
Lena laughed, tossing a pillow across the room. "Speak for yourself, Doc. I plan on marrying rich after I paint my masterpiece."
Ava smiled faintly at their banter, but her pen didn't stop moving. "Or," she said softly, "you could both do exactly what you're doing and end up fine anyway."
Her voice was calm, but it carried. All three girls glanced at her, even Mia. It was something about Ava—the way she didn't speak much, but when she did, the room paused.
For a moment, the dorm felt almost normal. Just four girls, books and laughter between them, the world outside quiet. None of them noticed the way Mia kept checking her phone, waiting for the next message from her brother.
Because outside, the world was never quiet for long.