Page 9 of Hannah.
A ripple of excitement passes through the audience as the cheers go up. Even I stand with Mom and Dad and cheer, although it feels silly. The ceremony concludes, and the students leave the hall, chatting and laughing. I walk beside my parents, feeling joy and determination in my heart.
After the ceremony, it's time for them to return home, leaving me alone in this foreign country. It feels daunting but also right. They hug me tightly, their warmth seeping into my skin.
“My sweet baby,” Mom whispers into my hair. “I’m going to miss you. Don’t forget to call.”
Dad’s grip on my shoulder is firm, his voice steady. “Remember, you’re destined for greatness. Seize every opportunity.”
The idea of that is a little funny. I’m an art history major, which isn’t exactly a flashy degree…but I guess there can be greatness of a sort in it.
As they walk away, their figures receding into the night, I stand there, my chest tight. I’m alone yet surrounded by all the other freshers having the same experiences. As I dash a few tearsaway, I find some comfort in knowing I’m not the only one out here crying.
With the day mostly done, I head back to my dorm. Lowering myself to sit on the bed, I hold my phone, unsure what to do next. I know one person who might be on campus, but I haven’t heard from him much. In fact, as we loaded up the car this morning, I sent him a single text.Guess who is starting at Cambridge today?
But Johan didn’t answer. And I don't even know why.
Over the passing years, Johan and I have shared fragments of our lives through sporadic conversations, a collection of messages, and occasional calls. But life, as it often does, has led us in different directions. Nevertheless, he’s remained a constant presence, a cherished family friend, someone I could always count on for advice or a shared laugh. Despite never seeking his help to get into Cambridge, there’s a secret hope within me, a wish to bump into him someday. Two years ago, he was here, immersed in his master’s degree, and the prospect of reconnecting is an unspoken desire of mine.
Not for him, apparently. He’s probably too busy to notice the arrival of a fresher.
So, I’m not expecting an answer when I send another message. Just in case.
Hey. It’s Hannah.
I stare at the phone screen, watching the seconds tick by, but no response. Of course. He’s a graduate, probably doing important research for his PhD.
Well, I’m here at Cambridge.
It’s silly, but I add a picture of me in the dorm room. I want him to know that I made it. That I’m actually here, just like I said I’d be. Not for any stupid reason like following him, but because I wanted it for myself.
But as the seconds become minutes, there is still no response. Maybe he doesn’t even check his texts anymore. I steal another glance at my phone, the excitement of the moment now clouded by disappointment.Maybe he’s lost in his own world, I speculate, my thumb hovering over the screen, contemplating whether to send another message.
In the quiet sanctuary of my room, I reflect on the day. The unanswered message lingers in the corners of my mind, but I consciously shift my focus to what all this really means. I made it, and classes start tomorrow.
Cambridge sprawls out like an endless canvas of opportunities, and as I shut my eyes, I imagine the countless possibilities. The anticipation of what tomorrow holds overshadows the unanswered text.
If we run into each other, it will be nice. But if not…well, I guess we aren’t as close as I thought.
3
Hannah
It’smy third class of the day, and the nerves haven’t quite dissipated yet. Despite only being my second week here, I haven’t gotten lost in the immense halls with the towering ceilings yet, and I haven’t felt out of my depth either.
In fact, it’s the complete opposite. I have loved all of my classes so far; the subjects are fascinating. My brain is working overtime in excitement, hungry to learn everything each professor has to give.
This class should be more of the same. Intro to Heritage Studies is one of the more niche courses I’m taking this semester, and I’m happy about the change of pace from the other 100-level courses. The classroom buzzes with energy as everyone settles on their seat. As I take mine, a classmate hands out flyers, handing me one. The front reads “Cabinet of Curiosities: Inside Oddities in the Victorian Era,” with an address to what seems to be an exhibition of peculiar objects nearby. This exhibition sounds right up my alley. Oh well, even if I don’t know a single person, I’m still going. Oddities havealways been my fascination, and I’m eager to see what's on display. As I set my laptop for the class, my palms itch a little with anxiety, and I rub them together to dispel the sensation.
We're all waiting for the professor when, to my greatest surprise, a tall man with golden hair and glasses walks in, striding towards the main desk by the board. Shock hits me like a bolt of lightning.What the hell? What is he doing here?
It’s been two years since I last saw him, and his changes are subtle but striking. There's a newfound depth to his charm, a maturity etched into his features. His dark blond hair falls casually over his forehead, and a hint of a beard adds a touch of rugged allure. His blue eyes, always bright with curiosity, now hold a hint of professionalism that wasn’t there before. That makes sense if he’s teaching a college course.
I really can’t believe it.
Dressed in tailored slacks and a casual button-up with a suit jacket, he exudes easy sophistication, a blend of classic style and contemporary flair. Once standing behind the desk, his confident and smooth voice fills the lecture hall.
“Morning, everyone. I’m Johan Bentinck, your substitute for today. Professor Kimberly Foster is on sick leave, so I'll replace her until she’s back with us.”
His smile is warm, putting everyone at ease. There's something approachable about him, a natural aura of mentorship that makes him more than just a teacher. He hasn’t noticed me yet; instead, he picks up the flyer about the exhibition from his desk and looks at it briefly. As he dives into discussing the Cabinet of Curiosities, his passion for the subject is contagious, captivating the entire class. “I suggest everyone to go and see the exhibition. It’s not every day you’ll see so many treasures from the Victorian Era in one place.”