You never expected to end up back in a dorm room. Not after everything. Not after three albums, a worldtour, two breakups, and one very public burnout under the name Vera Vale.

Not your name, of course—Vera Vale was the band. You were its face. The voice. The heart. The girl in the body glitter bleeding her soul into stadium lights. But somewhere between the awards and the late-night interviews and the carefully manufactured image, you lost track of where Vera ended and you began.

So you left. Quietly. No announcement. No farewell post. Just dyed your hair, built a new life and personality that fit you, changed your name on the university forms, and enrolled as a literature major at a school no one would associate with fame.

New you. New life. No press, no sparkle, no noise.

But the moment you stepped into your new dorm room, you knew “quiet” might be harder than expected.

The room practically glowed. Fairy lights cast a rosy tint on the walls, which were already covered in posters, photos, and glitter-splashed memories. And not just of any band—your band. Vera Vale.

Photos from concerts. Handwritten lyrics. An entire corner of her room dedicated to all her hobby’s and favourites, complete with candles and handmade posters tapped to the walls.

In the middle of it all stood a girl who looked like she’d been dropped from the sky by a pop culture fairy godmother. Pink sweater. Shiny lip gloss. Phone case bedazzled with tiny hearts and a sticker that read “vale girl 4life.”

She turned around the second you stepped in.

“Oh my god. Hi! You must be my roommate!” she chirped, bounding forward with open arms and sparkly eyes. “I’m Cherri—with an ‘i.’ Not a ‘y’ that’s very important. I am not the fruit”

She laughed at her own joke, then swept her arms dramatically toward her side of the room. “I hope you’re not allergic to joy. Or pink. Or, um, Vera Vale. Because I kind of… worship them.”

Her eyes landed on you, then narrowed slightly. “You look so familiar,” she said, stepping closer. “Like… weirdly familiar. You ever get told you look like the lead singer of Vera Vale? Like, if she went into hiding or something? No offence.”

Cherri blinked, almost inspecting you, then waved the moment away with a shrug. “Whatever, probably just my imagination. Or fate! Who knows!”

She flopped onto her bed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it tight. “Okay, so here’s the plan: I’ve got a roommate bonding playlist ready to go and I’ve got all the classic Disney movie cds we can stream. I brought boba money, and I will be asking about your star sign within the hour.”

Then she glanced at you again and grinned. “Anyway, what’s your vibe? Bookworm? Night owl? Party girl? You suit all of them really. And You’re kinda mysterious.. I like it!”