30 August — 8:00 AM
Riya look at C : come little girl let me show you your room ,you become my roommate now
They came out from warden offics
The hostel building stood beyond wide green lawns.
C stopped walking.
The grass stretched neatly across both sides of the path — still wet from the early morning cold.
Tiny flowers lined the walkway.
White.
Pink.
Yellow.
They swayed gently with the breeze, like they were waving at her.
Hello, stranger.
Welcome.
Students crossed the paths carrying backpacks and coffee cups.
Some laughed loudly.
Some walked alone.
Some looked half asleep, dragging their feet like they had stayed up too late.
Everything felt unfamiliar.
Beautiful.
Too big.
Riya noticed C slowing down.
“You okay, little girl?”
C nodded slowly.
“It’s…
very big.”
Riya smiled.
“You’ll get used to it.”
The Building
The girls’ hostel rose four floors high.
Soft cream walls.
Large windows reflecting the morning sunlight like mirrors.
Nothing luxurious — just clean, organized, safe.
Safe, C thought.
That’s what matters.
Near the entrance, small benches sat beneath trees where students talked in quiet voices.
A bicycle stand stretched near one side of the building, colorful bikes locked together like sleeping friends.
C adjusted her large shawl around herself.
Anita D helped me pack this shawl, she remembered.
Ami kissed it for luck.
Beside her, Anita D and Ami suddenly felt very far away.
As they entered the building, cool air touched her face.
The inside smelled faintly of floor cleaner and breakfast — toast, maybe eggs, something sweet she couldn’t name.
Girls moved through hallways carrying laundry baskets and books.
Some wore hijab.
Some didn’t.
Some smiled at her curiously.
C lowered her eyes.
Too many people, she thought.
Too many new things.
“Come,” Riya said gently.
The Elevator
They stopped near metal doors.
C stared.
Two silver doors.
Shiny.
Seamless.
A small panel of buttons on the wall beside them.
“What is this?”
“The elevator,” Aminah answered.
C blinked.
She had heard the word.
In textbooks.
In conversations she barely followed.
But she had never seen one.
Riya pressed a button.
A soft ding echoed from somewhere inside.
The doors slid open — smooth, silent, like they were inviting her into a metal box.
C immediately stepped back.
Her heart skipped.
What is this?
A room that moves?
Everyone laughed softly.
“It won’t eat you,” Neha joked.
Slowly, C entered.
The doors closed behind her.
Her stomach dropped — just a little — like the moment before a flight takes off.
Her hands immediately grabbed her travel bag tighter.
Her knuckles turned white.
Riya noticed.
“Nervous?”
“A little.”
“First elevator?”
C nodded.
“It feels strange.”
“Everything feels strange at first,” Yasmeen said softly.
“Even elevators.
But you’ll ride them so many times, you’ll forget they ever scared you.”
C wasn’t sure about that.
The doors opened again.
Third floor.
The Hallway
A long corridor stretched ahead.
Cream walls.
Simple ceiling lights that hummed softly.
Room numbers fixed neatly beside every door — gold numbers on dark wood.
101…
102…
103…
Girls’ voices echoed from behind closed rooms.
Laughter.
Music.
Someone singing in the shower.
So many people, C thought.
Living so close together.
At home, she shared a room with her sisters.
But this — this was different.
These were strangers.
All of them.
Their lives, their voices, their secrets — all hidden behind identical doors.
Riya stopped.
Room 101.
She smiled brightly.
“Welcome home.”
Room 101.
A room in another country.
Another life.
Another beginning.
She touched the small key in her hand — cold metal, warm from her grip — and felt the weight of everything she had left behind pressing against her chest.
Then she looked once toward the window at the end of the hall.
The sky looked different here.
But it was still sky.
And maybe — just maybe — that meant home wasn’t completely gone.
Maybe home travels with you, she thought.
In your heart.
In your prayers.
In the memory of Ami’s hands.
She didn’t know what waited behind the door.
She didn’t know if she would find friends or loneliness.
She didn’t know that, years from now, she would look back at this moment — this scared, quiet girl holding a key in a foreign hallway — and feel proud.
But for now, all she knew was:
One step at a time.
Breathe.
Trust Allah.
And open the door.
They stopped outside a wooden door.
C looked at the number quietly.
Room 101.
A room in another country.
Another life.
Another beginning.
“This is it,” Riya said with a smile.
C tightened her fingers around the small key.
Slowly— she inserted it into the lock.
Click.
The door opened.
Warm sunlight spilled through a large window near the far side of the room.
C stepped inside slowly.
Three bunk beds.
Six beds in total.
Small cupboards beside every bed.
Study tables pushed neatly against walls.
Blankets folded carefully.
Family photos.
Books.
Perfumes.
Tiny decorations.
Little pieces of six different lives sharing one room.
For a moment—
C simply stood there.
This wasn’t home.
But it would have to become one.
“Welcome to Room 101,” Riya said dramatically.
Neha laughed.
“You’re making it sound like a movie.”
Movie.
C didn’t understand the reference.
She had never watched movies.
Never had time.
Her world had always been home, studies, tuition, prayer.
Nothing else.
“These are our beds,” Yasmin explained gently.
Riya pointed around the room.
“Upper bunk mine.”
“Aminah and Yasmin use that side.”
“Neha sleeps there.”
“And now—”
She smiled.
“—you choose.”
C looked around carefully.
Her eyes stopped near the window.
Lower bunk.
Sunlight.
Fresh air.
Quiet corner.
She moved there slowly.
“This one.”
“Good choice,” Aminah smiled.
“Window beds are best.”
C placed her travel bag down.
Then slowly removed her mask.
The room became quiet.
Very quiet.
Riya blinked.
Neha stared.
Yasmin looked surprised.
Aminah smiled first.
“Oh.”
C immediately became nervous.
Did I do something wrong?
Her fingers quickly adjusted her dupatta.
“What happened?” she asked softly.
Riya shook her head quickly.
“Nothing.”
Neha laughed softly.
“You’re just…
very pretty.”
C looked confused.
Pretty?
Nobody had called her that before.
Usually people called her topper.
Or quiet.
Or hardworking.
Nothing else.
She lowered her eyes.
“Thank you.”
Aminah quickly changed the topic.
“Come, unpack first.”
Together, Riya and Aminah opened her bag.
Clothes folded perfectly by Anita.
Prayer mat.
Books.
Registers.
Pens.
Simple things.
Things from home. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
“This cupboard beside your bed is for daily use,” Riya explained.
“And this larger one is for extra clothes and luggage,” Aminah added.
They carefully placed her clothes inside.
Folded hijabs.
Shoes below.
Books together.
Her prayer mat on the upper shelf.
Everything organized slowly.
Patiently.
Kindly.
Then Aminah pointed toward another door.
“Attached washroom.”
C followed quietly.
She stopped again.
The washroom itself felt bigger than the room she shared with sisters back home.
Mirror.
Sink.
Separate shower area.
Shelves.
Warm lights.
She quietly locked the door.
Looked at herself in the mirror.
Tired eyes.
Long journey.
New country.
New life.
Slowly she washed her face.
Brushed her teeth.
Changed clothes.
When she came out, she wore a simple pink suit with her dupatta covering her head.
Her damp hair remained wrapped carefully inside a towel.
Aminah smiled.
“Better?”
C nodded.
“A little.”
Aminah sat beside her.
“Don’t worry.”
C looked at her.
“It takes time.”
“Really?”
Aminah smiled softly.
“Yes.”
She pointed toward herself and Yasmin.
“We were nervous too.”
“You were?”
“Very.”
Yasmin laughed.
“First week I cried almost daily.”
C looked surprised.
“You?”
“Yes,” Yasmin smiled.
“We were far from home too.”
Aminah nodded.
“But slowly…”
She looked around the room.
“This hostel.”
“This university.”
“This bed.”
“They become home too.”
C stayed quiet.
Home.
Could that happen?
“By the way,” Aminah smiled, “Statistics department.
Third year.”
Riya stretched dramatically.
“And I’m final year Software Engineering.”
Neha pointed proudly.
“Third year Software Engineering.”
C listened quietly.
People.
New people.
Not classmates.
Not relatives.
Maybe friends?
“Come,” Riya said gently.
“Set your bed.”
C nodded.
The hostel had already provided pillows, blankets, and bedsheets.
Still—
C removed the single bedsheet Anita had packed.
Carefully spread it over the mattress.
Straightened corners.
Fixed pillow covers.
Small habits from home.
When she finished— it finally looked like hers.
Aminah noticed dark circles under her eyes.
“Sleep now.”
“You look exhausted.”
C nodded slowly.
Maybe she was.
She climbed into bed.
Pulled the warm blanket closer.
Around her— lights slowly turned off.
Girls whispered quietly.
Cupboards closed.
Someone laughed softly.
A completely unfamiliar room.
Yet strangely warm.
C stared toward the window.
Thousands of kilometers away—
Ami was probably awake.
Baba too.
Maybe Bisma crying.
Maybe Hamad checking his phone.
Her chest tightened.
This was the first time in her life she had slept away from home.
First time without Ami beside her.
First time alone.
Quietly, beneath the blanket, C recited softly.
Then closed her eyes.
Outside—
California continued moving.
Inside Room 101— an exhausted girl from Pakistan finally fell asleep.