There's a peculiar thing about growth: just when you think you've figured out the rhythm, life throws in a new beat — unfamiliar, unpredictable, and utterly transformative.
It was an ordinary Wednesday. The sun was polite for once — not scorching or shy, just… there. I was back in my usual biology lecture, halfway through taking notes, when the classroom door swung open, and in walked a girl I'd never seen before.
She was tall, dark-skinned, with thick braids swept to one side and a leather backpack that screamed I'm cooler than all of you and I know it. She had that kind of energy that made people sit up a little straighter.
"Hi," she said to the class, unapologetically bold. "I'm Zariah. Transfer from Duke. Don't worry — I'm smart enough to catch up, and cute enough to be forgiven if I don't."
The class laughed. Even Professor Randle cracked a smile. I, on the other hand, was intrigued.
She slid into the empty seat beside me, pulled out a notebook, and without even looking up, said, "You're Charlotte, right?"
My pen froze mid-sentence. "Uh… yeah?"
"I heard about you." She smirked. "You've got guts. That Valentine's Day thing? Ballsy. I like that."
I blinked. "Wait—you heard about it?"
Zariah chuckled. "Please. This campus thrives on gossip. You're practically a campus legend now."
Great. Just what I needed.
After class, I tried to slip away quietly, but Zariah wasn't having it.
"Hey," she called, jogging up beside me. "Wanna grab lunch? Or are you too famous to be seen with the new girl?"
I hesitated. She was bold, loud, the kind of girl who intimidated me just by existing.
But something about her… felt genuine.
"Sure," I said, surprising both of us.
In the cafeteria, over spicy fries and milkshakes, Zariah told me her story — how she transferred after a messy breakup, how she had to rebuild herself too, how she didn't believe in playing small just to make others comfortable.
Then she looked at me and said something I'll never forget:
"You've been living in the shadow of your own fear, Charlotte. Time to step into the light — not for James, not for anyone else. For you."
That's when I realized… Zariah wasn't just a new friend. She was a mirror — one that showed me a stronger version of myself I hadn't fully seen yet.
Later that evening, while Sophie was finishing an assignment and I was scrolling through Zariah's social feed out of curiosity, I saw something that stopped me cold.
A photo.
From last summer.
Zariah — smiling brightly — with her arm around Darby.
My stomach dropped.
The caption read: "Besties who run the summer like it's a movie 🎬💋 #QueenThings"
I stared at the screen.
Was this… a coincidence?
Had Zariah known Darby?
Was she sent to spy? Manipulate? Or… was it just a summer fling friendship that faded like many others?
Suddenly, all my trust began to feel shaky again.
And the question I couldn't shake was: Why didn't Zariah mention Darby at all?
The past has a funny way of circling back.
Sometimes it returns as a memory.
Sometimes… it walks right into your life wearing confidence and braids.
And sometimes — you don't know whether to trust it or run from it.