New phase

VIOLET

They say it doesn’t take long for your life to change forever.

A moment.

A second.

And everything you thought was steady slips through your fingers.

I should’ve known. If I had, maybe I would’ve held on tighter. Maybe I would’ve savored the last hug a little longer or stolen one more kiss before stepping away. Maybe I wouldn’t feel this unbearable ache clawing at my chest.

But the thing about ‘maybes’? They’re useless.

The moment my cab pulled up to the gates of UC Berkeley, I realized this was nothing like I’d imagined.

The sprawling campus stretched out before me like a maze of ivy-covered buildings, shaded courtyards, and students rushing around with purpose. The sheer scale of it made me feel small—like one drop in a vast, churning ocean.

I took a shaky breath and stepped out of the car, clutching the handle of my suitcase. This was supposed to be exciting, right? A fresh start, a chance to figure out who I was outside of New York, outside of… Ryan.

Ryan.

The thought of him sent a pang through me. It had only been a week since we said goodbye, but I already felt his absence like a physical ache.

“You’re going to do great,” he’d said, his hands on my shoulders as he looked me in the eye. “And if you don’t, you can call me, and I’ll fly over to knock some sense into whoever’s giving you trouble.”

I smiled at the memory, even as my chest tightened. He was at Yale, chasing his own dreams, and I knew he’d want me to focus on mine too.

But standing here, surrounded by unfamiliar faces and a campus that felt like its own city, I couldn’t help but feel out of place.

This was it—my new chapter. My first real step into the world on my own.

The campus brochure hadn’t prepared me for the overwhelming reality of standing here, surrounded by towering ivy-covered buildings and a sea of students who all seemed to know exactly where they were going. Meanwhile, I clutched my map like it was a lifeline, hoping I wouldn’t embarrass myself by getting lost in the first five minutes.

I glanced down at my outfit—oversized beige overalls over a simple white T-shirt paired with my favorite black sneakers. It was exactly my style: comfy and effortless. The overalls had been a last-minute peace offering from my mom after one of our arguments. She’d insisted it was “her way of showing support,” though I knew it was her attempt at easing the tension before I left.

My now-grown brown hair was tied into a fluffy ponytail that bounced softly down my back. I had even gone out of my way today, dabbing on a bit of mascara and a touch of lip balm. The mascara made my eyelashes look fuller, accentuating my blue eyes, giving them a subtle sparkle I wasn’t used to seeing in the mirror.

“Deep breaths, Violet,” I whispered to myself, adjusting the strap of my trusty messenger bag.

The sound of campus life surrounded me—laughter, chatter, the rustling of papers. It all felt so vibrant and alive, but my nerves clung to me like a second skin. As I took a cautious step forward, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

A small smile crept onto my lips as I pulled it out, already knowing who it was.

Ryan: Survived the first day yet, Mouse?

I chuckled quietly, my fingers flying over the keyboard to reply.

Me: Haven’t even made it inside. Still trying to blend in with the ivy.

His response came almost instantly.

Ryan: You don’t blend in, Violet. You stand out.

That one simple text sent warmth spreading through my chest. He always had a way of saying the right thing, even though he claimed he wasn’t the romantic type.

“Excuse me.”

The sharp voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see a girl with bright pink hair, a nose ring, and a skateboard tucked under her arm. She gestured impatiently to my suitcase, which was blocking her path.

“Oh! Sorry,” I said quickly, scrambling to move it aside.

The girl gave a curt nod before breezing past me without another word.

Great start, Violet, I thought sarcastically, shaking off the awkwardness.

I unfolded the crumpled campus map and headed toward my dorm. It took three wrong turns, a detour through what I later realized was the chemistry building, and one embarrassing moment where I almost wandered into someone’s Instagram photo shoot, but I eventually made it.

The dorm hall was a hive of activity—parents lugging boxes, students laughing as they greeted their new roommates, and someone down the hall blasting pop music loud enough to rattle the walls.

Finally, I found room 214 at the very end of the corridor. The door was slightly ajar, and when I peeked inside, the first thing I noticed was chaos.

A girl was sitting cross-legged on one of the beds, surrounded by what looked like an explosion of clothes, books, and random trinkets. Her dark curly hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she was wearing oversized sweatpants paired with a bright orange crop top. She looked up as I entered, her round glasses sliding down her nose.

“Hey! You must be Violet,” she said with a wide grin, immediately jumping off the bed.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I said, wheeling my suitcase in.

“I’m Mia, your roommate. Sorry about the mess—I unpack like a tornado. But don’t worry, I’ll clean it up before it starts to look like a war zone. Probably.”

Her energy was overwhelming but oddly comforting. I smiled. “No worries. I haven’t even started unpacking yet.”

“Great! That means I have time to help you,” Mia chirped. She plopped back onto her bed, brushing off a pair of socks from her lap. “So, what’s your major?”

“Creative Writing,” I said, setting my bag on the empty bed.

“Ohhh, a writer. I knew it! You’ve got that artsy vibe,” she said, plopping back down on her bed. “Let me guess—coffee addict, obsessed with notebooks, and secretly carries around a journal?”

“Guilty,” I admitted with a smile.

“Perfect! We’re gonna get along just fine,” Mia said, already diving into a story about her disastrous orientation experience.

As we chatted, I felt some of the weight in my chest lighten. For the first time that day, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—I’d be okay here.

Later that evening, after Mia had gone out to explore and I was alone in the quiet dorm room, I pulled out my phone again.

Ryan: How’s Berkeley treating you so far? Met any weirdos yet?

I smiled and quickly typed back.

Me: It’s overwhelming, but I haven’t gotten lost. Yet. And my roommate seems nice. No weirdos so far, but the day’s still young.

His reply came almost immediately.

Ryan: Good. Just remember, if anyone gives you a hard time, I’m only a call away.

Me: You really think you can scare someone all the way from Yale?

Ryan: I don’t think. I know.

I could almost hear the smirk in his words, and it made my chest ache with longing.

This was a new beginning—a chance to prove to myself that I could stand on my own.

And even though Ryan was miles away, I knew he was with me every step of the way.