now a freshman

The match everyone had been waiting for was finally about to start. My body couldn’t stop twitching with excitement—I felt like a kid about to tear into a Christmas present.

Then, it hit me.

A fragrance drifted past my nose—roses, sandalwood, and a soft touch of vanilla. It wasn’t just a smell, it was a presence, one that pulled my attention like a magnet. I turned toward it… and there she was.

The most exquisite woman I had ever seen in my life.

She wore a hijab, but it couldn’t hide the elegance of her figure—like an hourglass wrapped in modesty. Her deep brown eyes seemed to pull me into another world, her lips were as red as ripe strawberries, and her face shone with the glow of the morning sun. She didn’t look like she belonged to this earth—no, she was an embodiment of something heavenly.

I could write a thousand chapters and still fail to capture her beauty. She was my type—exactly my type. And in that moment, I decided: this had to be the woman I’d spend my life with. I might never see her again after tonight, but I knew I’d remember every detail of her forever.

She sat two seats away from ours; the chairs in between were still empty. She came with a man who looked like her father.

I was locked on her until the music for the fighter I supported thundered through the arena. The crowd erupted into cheers as he bounced toward the ring. I glanced back at her—but now, the seats between us were filling up fast. My view was disappearing.

Normally, I don’t talk to girls. I’m shy. But this time, I couldn’t let the chance slip.

“Hey,” I called out, giving a small wave.

She looked in my direction… then went right back to what she was doing.

I sank in my seat, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry—you’ll talk to her after the show,” my dad said, clearly having seen everything. My embarrassment shot through the roof.

Every now and then, I stole quick glances at her, but once the seats were fully occupied, the crowd blocked my view. I gave up and turned all my attention to the fight.

The punches came hard and fast—blood flowed, sweat flew, the crowd roared. I mirrored my fighter’s movements—ducking when he dodged, wincing when he got hit. My legs danced beneath me as if I was in the ring with him.

Then came the moment of truth. He had the perfect opening to deliver the final blow… but his own power betrayed him. He overextended, slipped, and the opponent seized the moment. A quick dodge. A counterpunch. Then a hook. And then—like a storm—punches rained down with no mercy.

Five seconds later, my favorite fighter crumpled to the floor. The referee began the count.

1… 2… 3…

At 8, he tried to stand, but his legs gave out.

9… 10. The bell rang. K.O.

“You can’t always win,” Dad said calmly.

We stood to leave. I scanned the seats, desperate for one last glimpse of her—but she was gone. I had no idea when she left; I’d been too caught up in the match.

“That fight was so intense, I forgot how to breathe,” I said.

“That’s pro fighting for you,” my uncle replied.

“Mennnn, I still have a long way to go before I become pro,” I admitted. “If I got into the ring right now, I wouldn’t last three rounds.”

“Three rounds?” my uncle laughed. “Boy, you wouldn’t even last a minute.”

“Well, I’d just use the hit-and-run method,” I said boldly.

“The gap between you and them right now,” Dad added with a smirk, “is like a bungalow and a skyscraper. You need a lot more hard work and experience.”

We drove home, it was night to remember, one I'd never forget even if I wanted to the image of the hijabi girl wouldn't let me.

Many weeks had passed, and tomorrow was the day for my registration and screening before I could start attending classes. It was 8 PM, and I lay on my bed, listening to Drake. The room was dimly lit by a multicolored light that didn’t shine too brightly. My mind wandered, imagining what college life would be like. The stories my uncle had told me only fueled my curiosity. I couldn’t wait to explore, maybe even fall in love.

I closed my eyes, trying to sleep, but the excitement wouldn’t let me. I felt like a child waiting to travel the next day. After struggling for a while, I finally drifted off.

By 5 AM, I was already awake. I didn’t want to go downstairs because I knew my uncle would tease me for being overly excited. I could already imagine him laughing and making fun of me. I waited for 6 AM, which felt like forever. As soon as the clock hit six, I jumped into the shower, brushed my teeth, and changed into some corporate clothes. When I finally went downstairs for breakfast, my uncle took one look at me and burst into laughter.

“Why… why are you dressed like a banker?” he asked between fits of laughter.

I couldn’t make out half of what he was saying, but I knew he was making fun of my clothes.

“The clothes are fine; they’re not that bad,” my dad said as he entered the house from his morning workout.

“I can never escape you, can I?” I said, shaking my head at my uncle.

“Don’t listen to your dad. Wear something casual, a bit flashy,” my uncle advised.

I went back upstairs, changed into cargo pants, a t-shirt, and Nike sneakers, and returned downstairs.

“That’s more like it,” my uncle said. “Not like how you dressed up for work,” he added, laughing again.

“Allow me, please,” I muttered, starting to feel irritated.

After breakfast, my dad handed me a new credit card. “Use it wisely,” he said. “Enjoy school and have fun, I wish you the best boy boy".he added

“Okay, Dad,” I replied.

He left for work and soon it was my turn to leave for school and start Life as a college Student.

I couldn't wait