Chapter 11 It was raining lightly when the plane landed in Southridge City. A damp breeze carrying the unfamiliar scent of a new place brushed against Sloane's face. She drew in a deep breath and tightened her grip on her suitcase handle. So this is how her new life began. Southridge University was located in the heart of the southern city. Its campus was shaded by rows of phoenix trees, their gentle elegance different from the imposing grandeur she was used to in the north. After registering and picking up the key to her dorm, Sloane unpacked her belongings one by one. She deliberately avoided checking her phone. She knew the class group chat was probably still buzzing with talk about Jace Carter and Marissa Smith. But none of that had anything to do with her anymore. She pulled out a new SIM card, removed the old one, and tossed it away without hesitation. The next day, the dorm came alive with activity. Her three roommates arrived one after another. They were from different parts of the country, with distinct personalities, but all seemed friendly. Everyone shared snacks from their hometowns and chatted excitedly about their hopes for this new chapter. Sloane listened with a quiet smile, occasionally chiming in. There was something oddly comforting about being surrounded by strangers. For the first time in a long while, she felt safe. On Central Avenue, the student organization fair was in full swing. Dragged along by her roommates, Sloane was being pulled through the crowd when her eyes landed on a quieter booth nearby. She stopped in front of a banner that read Dance Society. "Hey, are you interested in dance?" asked a gentle voice. The speaker was a guy in a crisp white shirt with a student ID badge around his neck. He was casually tidying up the forms on the table, his tone easy and natural, like he was making conversation more than recruiting. "Um..." "Our club's vibe is really welcoming. Complete beginners are welcome to join," he said, looking up. rested on her without undue scrutiny, simply friendly as he handed her a sign-up form. "Want to fill one His gaze Chapter 11 50.00% out? There's a simple interview next week-mostly just to meet everyone. No pressure." Sloane hesitated, then took the form. "Thanks." "I'm Eli Walker, a junior in Computer Science," he said with a smile, casually handing her a pen from nearby. "You can fill it out here." Just then, another club member ran over in a hurry. "Eli! The sound system's acting up. Can you take a look?" "Sure, be right there." Eli nodded, then turned back to Sloane with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. Go ahead and fill it out-if you have any questions, feel free to ask the others." Sloane finished the form and handed it to a senior student. As she left the booth, she found herself glancing back. Eli was crouched beside the sound equipment, intently checking the wires. The day of the interview, Sloane arrived a little early and took a seat by the window to wait. "Sloane?" a familiar voice called out. She turned to see Eli coming up the stairs. "Hi, Eli." She stood up a little straighter. "You're here early," he said, walking over. His tone was warm, as if they were old friends. "Don't be nervous. The instructors are easygoing. They just want to see everyone's physical condition and sense of rhythm." Sloane nodded. "Oh, right," he added, as if remembering something. He pulled a card from his bag. "Here's the QR code for the club group chat. Join it so we can notify everyone about events and times." "Thanks." Just like Eli had said, the interview wasn't strict at all. Sloane had been dancing since she was young, and her strong foundation showed. After a few basic moves, she had already won approving looks from the senior members. Afterwards, she stepped out of the classroom and let out a quiet breath. Just as she was, about to head back to the dorm, her phone lit up with a new friend request. It was simply labeled: Eli Walker. Chapter 11 50.00% She accepted. A message popped up almost instantly. [You did great. Welcome to the Dance Club.] It ended with a simple smiley face. Sloane stared at the screen, her fingertips pausing over the glass before typing back: [Thanks.] There was no reply after that. But that brief exchange felt like a small stone dropped into the still waters of her heart, sending out faint, rippling waves. She put her phone away, pulled her jacket tighter around herself, and blended into the soft, scattered stream of students walking through Southridge University's night campus. The streetlights stretched her shadow long behind her. This path ahead-she would walk it alone, slowly but surely.