Room 101 — 6:00 AM
C woke before the others.
The room was dark — soft breathing, tangled blankets, the quiet of early morning.
She slipped out of bed, her bare feet silent on the cold floor.
The washroom was empty.
She took a long shower — warm water, steam, the familiar ritual of preparing for something new.
When she came out, she wore a white dress.
Simple.
Clean.
Modest.
Long sleeves, loose fabric, a white dupatta draped over her shoulders.
Her hijab was folded neatly on the bed, waiting.
She dried her hair with a towel — long, brown, silky — and braided it quickly.
No one saw.
The room was still asleep.
She pinned her hijab carefully, adjusted her dupatta, and slipped on her white shoes.
Ready, she thought.
I am ready.
7:00 AM
The room woke slowly.
Riya stretched, her red hair wild.
“C, did you sleep?”
C smiled.
“Jee.”
Riya sat up, looking at C — white dress, white hijab, white shoes.
Simple.
Clean.
Perfect.
“At least do some makeup,” Riya said.
C looked confused.
Makeup?
she thought.
Why would I need makeup?
Sophia climbed down from her bunk.
“You’ve never used makeup, I’m guessing.
Right?”
C nodded.
“Never.”
Aminah smiled.
“It’s okay.
I use it sometimes.
Not always.”
Riya and Neha started preparing — foundation, eyeliner, lipstick.
The room smelled of perfume and powder.
C watched them quietly.
Different, she thought.
They are different from me.
But that’s okay.
8:00 AM — The Elevator
They left the room together.
C walked with Sophia — down the stairs, step by step.
She didn’t like the elevator.
The small room, the moving floor, the strange dropping feeling in her stomach.
Not yet, she thought.
Maybe one day.
Not yet.
Riya and Neha took the elevator, laughing about something.
At the bottom, they regrouped.
“Ready?” Riya asked.
C nodded.
They walked toward the university entrance.
The University of California, San Diego
The campus was enormous.
C stopped walking.
Buildings rose before her — glass and steel, modern and sleek.
Palm trees lined the pathways, swaying gently in the morning breeze.
Students walked in every direction — some in groups, some alone, some rushing, some laughing.
The sky was blue — endless, brilliant, dotted with soft white clouds.
This is my university, C thought.
This is where I will study.
Where I will learn.
Where I will grow.
Riya pointed.
“That’s the library.
Huge, right?
You’ll probably live there.”
C’s eyes followed her finger.
A massive building — glass walls, wide steps, students flowing in and out like a river.
“Over there — the student center.
Food, coffee, study spots.”
Another building.
Modern.
Busy.
“And that —” Riya pointed to a cluster of buildings in the distance, “— is the Software Engineering department.”
C’s heart beat faster.
My department, she thought.
My classes.
My future.
The Software Engineering Department
The building was modern — glass and white stone, large windows reflecting the sky.
Students moved through the hallways, backpacks slung over shoulders, voices echoing.
The smell of coffee and new books filled the air.
C followed Riya and Neha through the corridors.
So many people, she thought.
So many students.
All studying the same thing.
All chasing the same dreams.
They stopped in front of a door.
Scholarship & International Student Office
Riya knocked.
“Come in.”
They entered.
Professor Elvin Stewart
The office was large — bookshelves, a heavy wooden desk, a window overlooking the campus.
On the wall, degrees and awards, framed and gleaming.
Behind the desk sat a man.
Forty-six years old.
Sharp.
His eyes were kind but observant — the eyes of someone who had seen generations of students pass through this room.
Professor Elvin Stewart.
He looked at C. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
“Hello, C Ismail.
Welcome to our country.”
C’s throat tightened.
Mam?
Sir?
What do I say?
She had never spoken to a male teacher before.
Her college was all female.
Her teachers were all women.
She looked at Riya.
At Neha.
They nodded encouragingly.
C looked back at the professor.
“Mam —”
She stopped.
Mam?
He’s a man.
Why did I say mam?
Professor Elvin smiled.
“It’s okay, kid.
You can call me ‘mam’ if you want.
It’s fine.”
Riya and Neha exchanged glances.
She’s nervous, Riya thought.
So nervous.
C swallowed.
“Sorry…
mam…
I mean…
sir…
I am fine.
Thank you.
All good.
My roommates…
are good.”
Her voice trembled.
Her words stumbled.
Professor Elvin’s smile didn’t fade.
He saw something in her eyes — a shine, a spark, a determination.
The same shine he had seen in his eyes, years ago, when he first came to California.
When he was eighteen.
When he was scared and hopeful and ready to change the world.Now he has identity as surgeon but hidden identity of CEO of Nova tech
She’s special, he thought.
I can see it.
“That’s good, C Ismail.
Take your time.
Adjustment takes time.
Relax.”
He paused.
“And yes — you can call me ‘mam.’ I will be glad.”
C smiled — a small, shy smile.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
Professor Elvin leaned forward.
“Well, your country sent you to us.
We will all take care of you.”
He opened a file on his desk.
“I saw your project designs.
The hospital website.
Amazing work.
We are actually using it.
I spoke to your district head — they allowed it.”
C’s eyes widened.
They are using my design?
My hospital website?
Professor Elvin nodded.
“Amazing work, kid.”
C didn’t know what to say.
She just nodded.
“Go, kid,” Professor Elvin said warmly.
“See you in class.”
The University Card
A clerk handed C a small plastic card.
University of California, San Diego
C Ismail
Software Engineering — First Semester
“Make your library card in the library,” the clerk said.
C took the card carefully.
My name, she thought.
My university.
My future.
She slipped it into her purse.
Outside the Office
They stepped into the hallway.
C exhaled — a long, slow breath she didn’t know she had been holding.
Riya laughed softly.
“See?
That wasn’t so bad.”
C smiled — stronger now.
“Thank you…
both of you.”
Neha shrugged playfully.
“That’s what seniors are for.”
Her grin widened.
“But just so you know — even if you try, you might never get to the very top.
Honestly.
I’ve been here.
I’ve seen it.
Some people just…
excel too naturally.
Even top ten is tough.”
C blinked.
Top ten is tough, she thought.
But not impossible.
Riya nudged her.
“Neha’s right.
But listen — if you work hard from day one, focus on your assignments and labs, there’s a chance.
A real chance.
Top performers get noticed, C.
That’s your goal.
Keep your eyes on it.”
C clutched her timetable.
Software Engineering — First Semester
Three classes — One hour each
9:00 AM – 12:00 PM
Riya smiled.
“Not too heavy for the first semester.
Labs start after lunch.
Mostly practical work.
That’s where you’ll see your efforts turn into something real.”
Neha added casually, “Labs are the fun part.
Projects.
Coding.
Challenges.
But don’t expect to top every leaderboard overnight!”
C listened.
Her heart raced.
But inside — a quiet spark flickered.
The Poster
They walked past lecture halls, labs, notice boards.
C paused.
A colorful poster caught her eye.
Inter-University Tech Competition
Credits | Cash Prizes | Laptops
Her heart skipped.
Credits, she thought.
Money.
Laptop.
InshaAllah.
I will be in the top ten.
For Ami.
For Baba.
For all those nights they prayed for me.
She pictured her parents’ hopeful faces.
Her grip tightened on her timetable.
I didn’t come this far to be afraid.
I came to change my life.
And theirs.
She lifted her gaze.
The building buzzed with students, with voices, with the sound of new beginnings.
For the first real moment — she felt she could step into this world.
Not as a visitor.
As someone ready to belong.
Lab 2 — 9:00 AM
The computer lab was enormous.
C stood at the door, staring.
Row after row of computers — large screens, glowing blue, humming softly.
Students filled the seats, some typing, some talking, some staring at their phones.
I have never seen anything like this, she thought.
She found a seat in the front row.
Her register was open.
Her pen was ready.
Her face was covered — hijab, dupatta, mask.
New life, she thought.
New beginning.
The Boy Beside Her
A boy sat beside her.
Young.
Confident.
Smiling.
“Hi,” he said.
“I’m Ray.
What’s your name?”
C didn’t look at him.
She opened her register.
Her eyes stayed on the page.
Ray leaned closer.
“Hey, girl.
What’s your pretty name?”
C ignored him.
Like he didn’t exist.
He doesn’t exist, she told herself.
Only the lecture matters.
Only the studies.
Other boys laughed.
Ray’s face reddened.
The Girl Behind Her
A girl tapped C’s shoulder.
“Hey.
I’m Kim.
Ray’s friend.
And you are?”
C didn’t turn around.
She kept her eyes on her register.
Kim waited.
C didn’t respond.
Kim shrugged and turned back to her friends.
Weird girl, Kim thought.
But okay.
The Boy Watching
In the back of the lab, a boy sat quietly.
His name was Amir.
He was nineteen.
From New York.
One of the triplets — Azhan’s cousins.
He watched C.
Fully covered.
Eyes down.
Register open.
Pen moving.
She’s different, he thought.
She’s not like the others.
She doesn’t talk.
Doesn’t flirt.
Doesn’t try to be noticed.
She just…
works.
Beside him, his siblings — Sameer and Sana — were talking to other students, laughing, making friends.
But Amir watched C.
And he wondered — who is she?
She sat in front, she kept her eyes down, A quiet girl in a noisy town.
She didn’t speak, she didn’t see— The boy who watched her, quietly.
He wondered who, he wondered why, A covered girl, a hidden sky.
Not love—not yet—just curiosity.
A story starting, quietly.