After lunch, the group began to disperse. Moriah lingered behind.
"I'm glad you came," she said softly.
"Me too," John replied. "It feels good to know at least one person here."
She smiled, but there was a flicker in her eyes. Fear? John couldn't read it.
"Well," she said, stepping away, "if you ever need anything—directions, advice, someone to prevent you from walking into the wrong class again—I'm usually around."
He watched her walk off, unaware that the first twist in their story was already forming. Because Moriah, despite her bright smile and easy laughter, carried a secret—one big enough to change everything John thought he knew about her.
And soon… he would find out.
John woke the next morning with an unusual mix of anticipation and confusion. His first day had a lot new faces, new professors, new routines, but what lingered most was Moriah. She had a way about her, like she carried sunlight in her pockets and darkness in her shadow. And he couldn't stop wondering which part of her was real.
He made his way to his first class, still replaying their conversation in the student center, when his phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.
Meet me outside the music building at 4. -M
John stared at it. Short. Mysterious. And somehow urgent.
He typed back quickly.
I'll be there.
The hours crawled toward 4 p.m., and by the time John reached the music building, the sun was sinking behind the chapel, painting the campus gold. Students filtered out of practice rooms, their voices and instruments echoing down the halls.
Moriah appeared at the bottom of the steps, hugging her bag tightly, her expression more serious than he had ever seen.
"Thanks for coming," she said.
"Of course. Is everything okay?"
She exhaled shakily. "Yes and no."
He followed her to a bench beneath a sprawling oak tree. She sat, but her hands wouldn't be still. They picked at her sleeves, twisted her bracelet, fidgeted like she was fighting herself.
"John… I need to tell you something before this gets too far."
"Too far? We just met," he joked lightly, trying to ease the tension.
"Exactly." She looked him straight in the eyes. "Which means you should know the truth before you decide if you even want to be friends with me."
He blinked. "Moriah, what is it?"
She hesitated, swallowed, then said, "I'm not here on my own. I'm here on a scholarship. A very strict one. And if I break even one rule… I lost everything."
He frowned. "Okay… but what does that have to do with—"
"There's more." Her voice softened to barely a whisper. "My scholarship sponsor… is my mom's ex-husband."
John froze.
"He's wealthy," she continued. "Influential. And he has… conditions. He controls my schedule, my performances, even the classes I'm allowed to take. And if I don't follow everything exactly—music, grades, rehearsals—he pulls the funding. My mom can't afford tuition. I'd have to leave."
John's stomach tightened. "That's… messed up."
"It is. But I'm stuck." She looked away, tears forming. "I don't tell people because they treat me differently. Or worse, they try to 'save' me. And I can't afford someone coming in and making things harder."
"So why tell me?"
She wiped her eyes. "Because I don't want to lie to you. And… because yesterday, when I met you, I felt something. Something familiar and new at the same time. And that scares me."
John wasn't sure what to say. He felt honored… confused… protective… all at once.
"Moriah," he said softly, "you don't have to be afraid of me. I'm not here to judge you or fix your life. I just want to know you."
Her lips trembled into a shaky smile. "Thank you. Really."
The bell tower chimed in the distance.
Moriah stood. "I've gotta go. Practice. But… I'm glad I told you."
"So am I."
As she walked away, John felt the shift subtle but powerful. Their connection wasn't just casual friendship anymore. It was deeper. More fragile. And wrapped in complications neither of them fully understood.
He didn't know that her secret was only the first layer.
And soon… the second layer would shake the campus.