Sofie's POV
The next morning, I arrived twenty minutes early. I thought it would give me time to settle, breathe, maybe even make a new friend if I was feeling lucky.
Instead, I walked straight into a campus-wide traffic jam.
Students were everywhere. The Nursing Building, which looked so neat and organized yesterday, now felt like a hospital during a code blue. Bags blocked pathways. People shouted over each other. Section names were being yelled from different corners. Even the CIs looked overwhelmed.
"Section D, upstairs!"
"Section G, your class is moved again!"
"Ma'am, there's no projector in that room!"
Everyone was looking for somewhere to be.
I held my class schedule tighter and followed the wave of Section C. Apparently, our classroom from yesterday was now assigned to a Merged Class Lecture between Sections C and F for Anatomy and Physiology.
I didn't know what was worse—having to find a new seat again or sharing the class with people we didn't know.
Someone muttered, "This is so unorganized."
Someone else replied, "Welcome to college."
We reached the door. The classroom was too small.
There were only about 30 seats—and at least 60 of us. Some people stood. Others sat on the floor. Bags were being used as chairs. Some fans weren't working. The windows were open, but it only let in more noise from the hallway.
It was chaos.
Ma'am Cruz, the A&P professor, arrived five minutes late, already looking done with the day. "This isn't your fault," she said, placing her things on the desk. "The room assignments got shuffled again. Please bear with us. Just stay put for now."
I found a spot near the back—half-seat, half-wall. Not comfortable, but survivable.
And then—the door burst open again.
More students. From Section F.
That's when the noise doubled. You could tell who they were immediately: confident, loud, slightly intimidating. Some looked annoyed, some confused, and some were already cracking jokes.
One of them bumped into a chair and said, "Sorry, bro, I didn't see it."
I turned to look—and that's when it happened.
Someone brushed past me—quickly. My shoulder bumped against his. It wasn't hard, but it startled me.
"Oh—sorry," he muttered. No pause. No eye contact. Just that voice—low, hurried—and then he moved ahead.
I blinked and only saw his back. Blue and black uniform, slightly crumpled from the rush. ID swinging at his chest. Clean haircut. Calm walk.
That was it.
Just a bump. Just a sorry.
But something about it made my heart skip.
Not because it was romantic. But because it was real. A reminder that even in the middle of this mess, we were here. Sharing the same room. The same subject. The same struggle.
And maybe… the same story, eventually.