By midday, Zara understood one thing clearly.
This university watched everything.
The cafeteria alone felt like a social map drawn in real time. Tables weren't just tables, they were territories. Athletes claimed the long center rows, loud and confident. The tech crowd stayed near the windows, laptops open even while eating. Fashion-forward students clustered like they were on a runway rehearsal, outfits coordinated down to accessories.
And then there were the elite circles.
Students whose presence subtly bent attention toward them. Their laughter carried farther. Their seats were never questioned. Zara noticed them without trying to, private drivers waiting outside, assistants hovering, conversations about international trips spoken casually.
She carried her tray carefully, scanning for an empty seat that wouldn't put her in the middle of something she didn't understand yet.
"Zara!"
She turned.
A girl waved at her from a modest table near the edge. Medium height, braids pulled into a neat bun, warm smile. Zara recognized her from Advanced Economics.
"Mind if I sit?" Zara asked.
"Please. I was hoping you would."
They exchanged names properly this time, Amara, second-year student, communications major. Easy to talk to. No hidden edge.
"You're adjusting well," Amara said as they ate. "Transfers usually look like they're about to bolt."
Zara smiled faintly. "I don't scare easily."
Amara laughed. "Good. You'll need that here."
"Why?"
Amara leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Because people already noticed you."
Zara paused. "For what?"
"For surviving your first lecture without panicking. For not tripping over yourself when_" she hesitated.
"When Xander walked in?" Zara finished calmly.
Amara's eyes widened. "You noticed?"
"It was hard not to."
Amara sighed. "He's… complicated."
That was one way to put it.
Across the cafeteria, Xander sat surrounded by his usual circle. Laughter burst around him easily, but his attention drifted more than once, toward Zara's table. He didn't stare. He didn't need to. People noticed anyway.
"She's the new tutor," someone muttered.
"For him?" another scoffed. "Good luck to her."
Xander didn't comment. He leaned back in his chair, spinning his fork lazily, expression unreadable.
After lunch, Zara headed to the library.
The building was massive, glass walls, quiet floors stacked high with books and private study rooms. She chose a table near the back, laying out her notes and planner. Tutoring schedules, coursework, personal study time. She was halfway through organizing when a shadow fell across the table.
She looked up.
Xander.
"You work fast," he said, pulling out the chair across from her without asking and sitting.
"This is a library," she replied evenly.
"So is tutoring," he said. "Figured I'd find you here."
She closed her notebook slowly. "Our sessions haven't started."
"I know." He glanced around. "Just wanted to see what kind of tutor I got."
"And?" she asked.
He studied her openly now. Not rude. Just curious.
"Not what I expected."
She met his gaze. "Likewise."
Silence stretched between them, not awkward, just charged with unspoken assessment.
"You really planning to fix my grades?" he asked.
"I'm planning to do my job."
He smirked. "That sounds optimistic."
"It sounds professional."
A beat.
"Tomorrow," she said. "Four p.m. Study room B."
"You don't ask if I'm free?"
She stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "If you're not, that's your choice."
He watched her walk away, lips twitching.
By evening, campus energy shifted.
Music drifted from dorm windows. Groups gathered on lawns. Lights flickered on across buildings like a living grid. Zara returned to her room exhausted but alert, replaying the day in her mind.
This wasn't just about tutoring. It was about navigating a place where status spoke louder than effort and where being capable made you visible.
Across campus, Xander revved his bike, the engine cutting through the night air. As he rode off, students turned to look, conversations pausing mid-sentence.
Tomorrow, the tutor would officially meet the problem student.
And the campus, as always, would be watching.