I stood at the entrance of St. George's High, looking at the magnificent sight before me. The grand gates, tall, iron-wrought, and imposing, led to a sprawling campus that gleamed under the dim evening light. It was the kind of place where the big shots studied—children of politicians, celebrities, and business moguls. A place I never thought I'd set foot in. And yet, here I was, ready to chase my dream of becoming a fashion designer, thanks to a scholarship.

The excitement of getting accepted was still fresh, but the reality of my situation was sinking in. I dragged my two large suitcases, heavy and cumbersome, across the road leading up to the school. My arms were sore from hauling them for nearly four kilometers. I had come alone, traveling from another state, because my parents couldn't afford tickets for all three of us. When they suggested I go alone, I told them it was okay, that I could handle it. So I had waved them goodbye with a brave face, but now that I was here, exhausted and overwhelmed, I longed for their presence.

As I approached the gate, the security guard stopped me, scrutinizing me with tired eyes. 

"Name?" he asked gruffly.

"Amira ," I replied, handing over my admission papers.

He checked them for what felt like an eternity, before nodding. "You're the scholarship student. You can go in. The hostel's behind the main college building."

"Thank you," I said, relieved. But as I took my first step inside, a strange feeling crept over me. The school looked empty, eerily so, for a place this prestigious. The towering structures were dimly lit, and though it was just 8 p.m., there was hardly any sign of life. The heavy silence weighed down on me as I walked further into the campus, following the security guard's directions.

With my suitcases rolling unevenly on the pavement, I passed a few courtyards and then reached the rear of the building. I noticed a path that led to the hostel, which appeared secluded and far removed from the main campus. The building itself was old, with ivy creeping up its brick walls. A few lights flickered from inside, but overall, it was as dimly lit as the rest of the school.

As I made my way inside the hostel, I was startled to see no one around. My heart raced as my footsteps echoed in the deserted hallways. *Is this place really as prestigious as they say?* I wondered.

Just as I began to think I was the only one here, a figure emerged from the hallway, wearing wired earphones and strolling casually. A girl, about my age. She looked surprised to see me and quickly removed her earphones when I called out to her.

"Hi," I said, trying to mask my nerves. "I'm looking for the girls' hostel, left wing?"

She smiled brightly, her brown eyes lighting up in recognition. "You must be the new scholarship student! I'm Eva, your roommate."

I let out a breath of relief. "Yes! Amira. It's nice to meet you."

Eva looked friendly enough, and I was glad to have met someone. Together, we made our way to the room. She helped me drag my suitcases in, and we spent the next hour unpacking. As we arranged my things, Eva couldn't stop chatting about the school and the people in it.

"So, tell me about this place," I asked, eager to know what I'd gotten myself into.

"Well, first things first," Eva said, sitting cross-legged on her bed. "You need to know what's off-limits."

"Off-limits?"

"Yeah," she replied with a mischievous grin. "There are places we scholarship students aren't supposed to go. The rich brats have their own areas, their own rules. They don't like us mixing with them."

I blinked, confused. "Wait, are they gods or something?"

Eva laughed, but there was no humor in it. "They think they are. It's best to avoid the right-wing building. That's their territory. Trust me, you don't want to get on their bad side."

The idea that there was a division in the school based on wealth made me uncomfortable, even angry. I had worked hard to earn my place here, and the thought of being treated differently because of my background annoyed me.

"And one more thing," Eva continued, her tone growing serious. "Bad things happen sometimes. But the best advice I can give you is Be like the rest of us—blind. Don't get involved, don't ask questions. Just stay focused on why you're here."

I let out a long sigh, disbelief filling my chest. "Great. Just what I needed," I muttered, shaking my head.

Eva chuckled, patting me on the shoulder. "It's not that bad once you get used to it. You'll learn to navigate these halls soon enough."

Despite her warning, I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't prepared for whatever lay ahead. This school was starting to feel more like a battlefield than a place of learning. But I couldn't afford to let anything distract me. I was here for one reason—to achieve my dream of becoming a fashion designer. Nothing else mattered.

Once I had settled into my side of the room, Eva dragged me out for a late-night tour of the campus. The cool night air and the quiet atmosphere seemed peaceful, though the emptiness still felt unsettling. We walked side by side, our shoes tapping against the stone path that wound through the grounds.

"I've been here for a year," Eva explained, pointing out different parts of the campus. "Most of the rich kids don't care about us, as long as we stay out of their way. But there are a few who... well, let's just say they enjoy making life harder for us."

"Like bullies?" I asked, already imagining the worst.

"Exactly," she replied, nodding. "There's one guy in particular you need to watch out for—Zayn."

I frowned. "Zayn?"

"Yeah. He's... well, he's a nightmare. Rich, powerful, and the kind of guy who thinks the world belongs to him. Stay clear of him and his friends, and you'll be fine."

I felt a chill run down my spine at the mention of his name. I had dealt with bullies before, but something in Eva's tone made me think this Zayn was different—dangerous, maybe.

But I pushed the thought away. I had just arrived; there was no point in worrying about someone I hadn't even met yet. Instead, I focused on getting to know Eva better as we continued walking. We shared stories about our families, our dreams, and our hopes for the future.