Light fell softly across the newly-paved walkways of campus, catching on scattered leaves and the edges of fresh steps. Students drifted past in loose clusters, voices blending into a distant murmur—bits of laughter, the shuffle of backpacks, the dull hum of city life beyond the university gates. It all moved with an easy rhythm, familiar and unremarkable to most people. Most people blended into it.

Simon didn't.

He stood apart without really trying to—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed mostly in dark layers that looked more practical than fashionable. His clothes weren't sloppy, just simple and functional, the kind chosen for comfort and habit rather than appearance. When students passed him, some gave quick, curious glances. Others avoided looking at all, their eyes sliding away as if they weren't quite sure what to make of him. Simon wasn't the sort of person people expected to see on a university campus. If you had asked his father years ago, he would've laughed outright at the thought. His father had always said Simon wouldn't amount to anything. Said boys like him didn't belong in lecture halls or libraries. Said he'd never make it past the streets he grew up on, never make something of himself—never make it this far. And yet here Simon was.

The irony of it didn't escape him, though he rarely let himself dwell on it. The past had a way of lingering if you gave it too much space, so he kept moving forward.

He preferred the quieter corners of campus anyway—the far tables tucked into the back of the library, the benches near quieter buildings where fewer people passed through. Places where the noise faded and the crowds thinned. Places where nobody paid much attention. Places where he could simply be, unnoticed and unbothered, just another person in a place he had never been meant to reach.