The gates of St. Catherine's Academy loomed high, painted a faded green that peeled at the edges. Julia clutched the handle of her suitcase tighter as the car rolled to a stop.
Her father didn't get out. He didn't even look at her.
"Get your things," he said flatly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
Julia hesitated, staring at him as if maybe just maybe he would soften and say he'd miss her. But all she saw was the same emptiness that had lived in his gaze for years.
Her throat tightened. She forced herself to nod and pushed the car door open. The heat slapped her face as she dragged her suitcase out. Before she could even close the door, the car was already moving, her father's figure shrinking into the distance without a single goodbye.
Julia swallowed the lump in her throat.
She was on her own now.
The campus buzzed with life students in crisp uniforms laughing in groups, girls running across the courtyard, boys tossing a football like the world had no worries. Julia felt like a shadow slipping through sunlight.
Inside the dormitory, the matron pointed her toward her assigned room without a smile. Julia dragged her suitcase down the narrow corridor, the air thick with perfume, chatter, and the clatter of lockers slamming shut.
Her roommates barely looked at her when she walked in. Three girls, polished and loud, lounged on their bunks like they owned the place.
"New girl," one of them said casually, her eyes scanning Julia from head to toe. She smirked. "You look lost."
Julia opened her mouth to respond but stopped. What could she say? That she was lost? That she didn't know how to breathe in this place, let alone live in it?
Instead, she forced a small smile and busied herself with unpacking.
They laughed amongst themselves, their words a language she wasn't invited into.
For the first time, Julia realized boarding school wasn't just about studying, it was survival. And survival meant blending in. But how do you blend in when you've always felt like a mistake?
Days passed in slow motion.
...
Julia woke up to bells, rushed showered, and hurried breakfasts. She followed the rules, kept her head down, answered questions in class when called on, but never too much. She became invisible, just as she had been at home.
But at night, when the dormitory lights went out, she lay awake staring at the ceiling, listening to the whispers and giggles of her roommates, feeling the crushing weight of loneliness pressing on her chest.
She hated that she cared so much. Hated that all she wanted was for someone to see her.
It wasn't until her third week that it happened.
She was sitting under the shade of an old almond tree during lunch break, her lunch untouched beside her, when a voice broke into her thoughts.
"You're new, right?"
Julia looked up.
A boy stood there, tall with dark hair that curled slightly at the edges, his uniform untucked like he didn't care about the rules. His smile was easy, the kind that disarmed people without trying.
She blinked. "Um… yeah."
"I'm Bryan," he said, dropping onto the bench beside her as though they'd known each other for years. "And you are…?"
"Julia," she whispered, her voice barely steady.
Bryan nodded. "Julia. Nice name."
She didn't know why those two simple words made her heart stutter. No one had said her name like that in a long time like it mattered.
He glanced at her untouched food and raised an eyebrow. "Not hungry?"
Julia shook her head quickly. "I'm fine."
"Liar," he said with a grin. "You look like you haven't eaten in days."
She let out a small laugh, surprising herself. It felt foreign, almost wrong, but it slipped out anyway.
For the first time since stepping into St. Catherine's, Julia felt… seen.