Zara pov:
My heart had been racing since we left the cemetery, and it hadn't slowed once. By the time I stepped into the airport, my palms were sweating, and every sound felt sharper than it should — the rolling suitcases, the overhead announcements, the distant crying of a child. It all pressed against me at once.
I tried to breathe through it, but the moment I reached the check-in counter, the "what ifs" started again — the same ones that had haunted me for the past three years. What if I wasn't ready? What if leaving didn't fix anything? What if the past followed me, no matter how far I ran? Positive thoughts, Zara. Positive thoughts, I whispered to myself, forcing the negativity out of my mind. This was a fresh start — a huge step — and I had to at least try to believe I deserved it.
Sitting there, waiting for my flight to be announced, felt surreal. My first flight had been nerve-racking enough, but at least my mom had been there to hold my hand and calm my breathing. This time, I had only myself.
The speakers crackled, and a voice echoed through the airport, announcing the flight:
"Flight 203 to London, now boarding."
My heart jumped. This was it.
I stood up on shaky legs and joined the line, my suitcase rolling unevenly behind me. For the first time in my life, I was completely on my own — no safety net, no mother's hand to hold. Just me.
As I inched closer to the boarding doors, I looked back one last time. My mom was standing behind the barrier, trying — and failing — to hide the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her hands covered her mouth, shoulders trembling as she tried to stay strong for me.
My chest tightened painfully.
"Don't cry," I mouthed, even though I was the one seconds away from breaking.
She nodded, wiping her face quickly, forcing a smile that almost snapped what was left of my composure.
I swallowed hard and turned away before my own tears betrayed me. If I hugged her one more time, I wasn't sure I'd ever let go.
I scanned my ticket, walked through the gate, and stepped onto the jet bridge. Each step felt heavier than the last, like I was walking out of one life and into another — one I wasn't sure I was ready for.
---
London
Hours later, the airplane doors opened, and cold air rushed in — crisp, unfamiliar, nothing like home. London felt bigger than I imagined, louder, colder, and somehow quieter all at once.
Dragging my suitcase through Heathrow, I tried to steady my breathing. I was alone — but free. Terrified — but hopeful. Everything I'd known was thousands of miles behind me.
A new country. A new school. A new me.
-----
Saint Monarch Academy
When the school car pulled up to the campus gates, my eyes widened.
Saint Monarch wasn't just a school — it looked like an empire.
Tall iron gates twisted like art, royal crests gleaming under the cloudy London sky. Beyond them were massive stone buildings, glass towers, marble steps, fountains, and students stepping out of black cars with drivers opening their doors. Designer jackets, expensive watches, polished boots — everything screamed wealth.
This wasn't just a school for the rich.
It was a school for the untouchable.
Where money wasn't just power — it was protection. Influence. Legacy.
And me? I was just a girl trying to outrun her past.
I tightened my grip on my suitcase and exhaled slowly.
Welcome to Saint Monarch, Zara.
Try not to fall apart.
Making my way toward my dorm felt… too easy. Too quiet. I kept waiting for the stress that comes with Nigerian schools—the shouting, the confusion, the "go to that office… no, the OTHER office"—but here everything was straightforward. Suspiciously straightforward.
The building they called a dorm looked more like a mansion, and somehow my assigned room was on the top floor. I stepped into the elevator, only for two guys to walk in right after me. Immediately, anxiety crawled up my spine. Not again. Before the doors could close, I stepped right back out and pretended I'd meant to wait for the next one.
When the next elevator came, I got in alone and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Top floor. Finally.
This was supposed to be my sanctuary for the year—my quiet corner of the world. At least, that's what I thought… right up until I heard a girl screaming at someone from inside the apartment.
Great.
I genuinely considered turning right back around. But I took a deep breath, slipped my headset on, blasted my music at full volume, and walked in like I didn't hear a thing. I didn't acknowledge them. Didn't look left or right. I just headed for the nearest empty room and prayed it wasn't already taken.
Luckily, it wasn't.
So much for a peaceful semester. Here I am with crazy roommates already. Oh chim o.
What a way to start the school year.