Renae POV
I was a nervous wreck. Like, I know I always act like I'm this cheer ball—which I am—but right then my tummy was twisting so bad I wanted to cry.
"I knew it!" I jumped excitedly, heart racing. "I knew I would like you. So since we're sharing secrets, I'm Professor X. I found my people!" I declared through over dramatic fake tears, trying to mask the nerves buzzing under my skin.
"Now that's how you do an act. You never picked a better major," Kevon said, walking over to shake my hand like I'd just landed a role. "See you bright and early Monday morning."
I grinned, but inside I was trembling. This was all so new, so big, and I wasn't sure if I was ready.
"But seriously, how did you know, Fabian?" Veronica asked, curious, her voice steady in a way mine wasn't.
"Honestly? Your acceptance packet," Fabian answered, pointing at the folder in our hands with a smile.
"Am surrounded by psychopaths," Veronica gasped, amused.
"You're surrounded by art, my darling," I corrected quickly, pulling her into a hug. My arms tightened around her like I was afraid she'd slip away. "Am gonna miss you," I said, and it felt like she was going away for five hundred years, not just a few hours.
"It's only for a few hours," she replied, hugging me back. I knew she meant it, but deep down, I was terrified of being without her.
"It feels longer… and we haven't separated yet," I whispered, my eyes glassy with tears I was holding back.
"Hey… we're gonna meet back right here and talk and be crazy, ok?" she encouraged, cupping my cheeks, kissing my forehead, and pulling me into a hug. The moment her arms wrapped around me, my nervousness melted. My breath released in relief, and for the first time that day, I felt like myself again.
"I love you… now go get those USC butts."
"They won't know what hits them," I said, forcing confidence into my voice, because she believed in me—and that was enough.
She laughed. "You're going to be the busiest person here."
"You mean we," I corrected, laughing with her. We hugged again, and then I waved wildly, trying to hold onto her presence as long as I could before following Mr. Alexander into the crowd.
And as I disappeared into the sea of faces, one truth burned in my chest: Veronica being here was the best thing that had ever happened to me. Without her, I would've drowned in my nerves. With her, I felt unstoppable.
"How are you feeling taking on two big majors in our fine institution?" Kevon asked.
"Definitely nervous," I answered rather too quickly.
"I normally tell my son that when he feels like the nervousness becomes too overwhelming, think about something or someone that makes you happy and feel at peace," Kevon spoke softly, encouraging as possible.
Stopping, I threw my back against the wall, clutching my acceptance packet against my chest that showed my majors:
University of Southern California
Acceptance Packet
Congratulations, Renae! You have been admitted to the University of Southern California.
• Major in Acting (School of Dramatic Arts)
• Major in Architecture (School of Architecture)
When I got this packet, I screamed out loud. Mom, Dad, and I jumped with such joy I knew the entire community heard us that night. It was one of the happiest moments. Then Mom sat me down to tell me about Veronica—how her family hurt her… not just hurt but abused her. How could people be so cruel?
"Your dad and I decided on taking her in, even if it's just for a little. Are you okay with sharing your space?" she asked.
"Can I see a picture of her?" I asked, wanting to know if I was gonna be sleeping in the house with an ugly troll.
"Sure, honey," Mom responded, taking out her phone.
I gasped. She looked like her whole world had crashed. She was beautiful, yet she looked so broken.
"I know it's sudden—"
"Mom, it's fine. I'll be okay as long as you guys are fine with it. I trust you and Dad with my life. So I trust that taking her in is a good choice," I responded in all honesty, praying her personality was just as pretty as her face.
That night I tossed and turned, upset with people I never even met—Veronica's family.
I didn't know when I fell asleep, but bright and early I ran from my room with a brilliant idea for Veronica, completely ignoring the fact I was barging into my parents' room unannounced.
"Mom… Dad…"
"Reni, nooooo!!!" Dad's voice came out in a panic.
"AHHHHHHHH… God, my eyes! Lord, please erase these last few minutes from my mind," I screamed, terrified, hands already over my eyes as I felt my way out.
"I keep telling you, knock," Dad spoke sternly, upset that his cuddle session was ruined.
"Lock the door," I clapped back, rushing to my room.
I slammed the door, back pressed against it, heart pounding like a drum. My eyes were still burning from the trauma. God, erase it. Please. Therapy forever.
But instead of sulking, my brain spun into overdrive. If I couldn't unsee my parents' cuddle fest, I could at least distract myself with something bigger. Something important.
Three weeks. That's how long until Veronica would finally arrive from the hospital.
I leapt off the bed, grabbed my sketchpad, and started scribbling ideas. Posters, fairy lights, new curtains, scented candles, even a bathroom makeover. If she was coming here, even for a short time, she deserved a space that felt like home.
Later that night, at dinner…
"Mom. Dad. I have a plan," I announced dramatically, slamming my sketchpad on the table like it was a business proposal.
Dad raised an eyebrow. "Please tell me this doesn't involve more anime posters."
Mom leaned forward, curious. "What kind of plan?"
I flipped the pages, revealing doodles of my room with reorganized furniture, a bathroom with soft pink and violet LED lights traced across the ceiling and walls, casting a dreamy hue over everything. The mirror above the vanity was outlined in neon pink.
"Operation: Welcome Home. Veronica's coming in three weeks, and I want her to feel like she belongs here. Even if it's temporary."
Dad blinked. "You're redecorating… for her?"
"Yes!" I said, voice rising with excitement. "New bedding, cozy lights, bathroom makeover. She's been through enough. She deserves a space that feels safe, warm, and hers."
Mom's eyes softened. "That's… actually beautiful, Reni."
Dad rubbed his chin, pretending to be skeptical but clearly impressed. "You're serious about this."
"Dead serious," I replied, pointing at my sketches. "I'll handle the design. You two just don't ruin it with your cuddle sessions. And provide your wallets for my expense."
Mom laughed. "Fair."
"My pocket will never recover from this," Dad cried, holding his heart like he was about to have a stroke.
Dad was terrified, shaking his head but smiling. Deep down I knew he was the type to take his old ass and throw it to Neptune. "Alright. We'll help. But you're not turning the bathroom into Disneyland."
"Too late," I grinned. "I already bought glitter soap."
"You already started… No wonder I got missed calls from the bank. I'm gonna be so broke. Have kids, they say," Dad spoke as if he was ready to explode. I could already see the grey hairs popping up from his head and a bald spot appearing.
Over the next weeks…
The house became a whirlwind of activity. I strung lights across her room, painted the bathroom, lined LED lights around the mirror frame, and argued with Dad over whether pink towels were "too much." Mom joined in, picking out plants and candles.
Every step, every laugh, every ridiculous argument was fueled by one shared goal: making sure Veronica had a good home to come to.
Final night before her arrival…
I stood in the doorway of her room, staring at the finished space. Posters neatly arranged, bed freshly made, bathroom glowing with soft light and lavender scent.
Mom came up behind me, resting a hand on my shoulder. "You did good, Reni."
Dad nodded, his voice steady. "She'll feel welcome here. Even if it's just for a short time, she'll know she belongs."
I swallowed hard, nerves buzzing but heart full. "That's all I want. For her to feel like she's not alone."
And in that moment, I knew — tomorrow, when Veronica walked through that door, everything would change.
And it did.
I gained the best, most amazing person in my life. Like, if I knew having a sister would be this amazing, I might have told Dad to cuddle more… Glad I didn't, because probably I wouldn't have met Veronica. To keep up with my crazy energy and willingness to beat the life out of anyone who messed with me like earlier—if I hadn't intervened creatively, she might've gotten kicked out of USC before she even started.
Feeling my nervousness tone down a bit, I smiled remembering Veronica's face, knowing she would be so proud that I'm following my dream the same way she is. Those conversations we had together the night I gave her the butterfly pendant necklace—half to my own—made me realize even more how grateful I am that Mom and Dad agreed to take her in. Because without that, I would never be able to share this wonderful journey with her.
Opening my eyes, I was holding my half of the pendant around my neck in the palms of my hands, my head resting on Mr. Alexander's shoulder. I hadn't even noticed he'd come beside me, his hands behind my back rubbing gently as tears flowed down my cheek.
"I did say happy thoughts," he spoke, worried.
"Believe me when I say these are happy tears… The ones I would cry any day, every day, because miracles are beautiful—especially when you are blessed with an amazing family, an amazing sister, and an amazing opportunity at an amazing university," I spoke with pure honesty.
Pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket, he placed it in my hands and smiled.
"Those are a lot of amazing," he teased, "and what's more amazing is knowing I will be helping you on your journey to being the best, most extraordinary person in your acting major," Kevon spoke proudly, standing to his feet.
Wiping my tears away, feeling much better, Kevon outstretched his hand to help me to my feet.
"Shall we, mah lady?" he spoke with a slight accent of Shakespeare.
I smiled through the last of my tears, slipping my hand into his. "We shall," I answered, playing along with his theatrical tone.
Together we walked across campus, the air alive with voices and footsteps, the hum of rehearsals drifting from open windows. The School of Dramatic Arts stood tall, banners of past productions fluttering in the breeze. Inside, the building was a world of its own—students reciting lines in corners, others stretching in studios, the smell of sawdust from set construction mixing with the faint glow of stage lights.
I paused, taking it all in. Costumes hung on racks, scripts scattered across tables, and the sound of laughter echoed from a rehearsal room. It felt like stepping into the heartbeat of performance itself.
Kevon guided me into his office, a space lined with shelves of plays, acting manuals, and photographs of past productions. He motioned for me to sit, his voice shifting from playful to purposeful.
"Here's how we'll shape your four years," he began. "Year one, you'll focus on foundations—acting technique, voice, movement, and the discipline of stage presence. You'll learn to control your body, your breath, and your emotions. Year two, we'll add depth—scene study, character development, and your first major productions. You'll begin to understand how to inhabit a role fully, not just play it. Year three, you'll balance advanced acting with electives that stretch your creativity—directing, playwriting, maybe even film acting. This is where you'll learn versatility. And year four, your capstone. A performance that defines you, something that shows the world your voice and your mastery."
I listened intently, every word painting a clearer picture of the journey ahead.
Kevon leaned forward, his tone softening. "My role is to keep you steady. I'll make sure you don't miss the steps, that you're challenged but never lost. Think of me as your compass. You'll do the walking, but I'll keep you pointed toward the stage you're meant to own."
I nodded, determination settling in. "Then I'll give it everything. Every class, every rehearsal, every chance. I want to leave here knowing I became the best version of myself."
Kevon's smile returned, pride flickering in his eyes. "That's all I ask. And when the curtain rises on your final performance, you'll know it was worth every moment."
The office fell quiet, but the silence was filled with promise. I stood, looking out the window at the campus beyond, and whispered to myself, "This is where it begins."
"It definitely is… Now unto your other major. I can quickly walk you there," Kevon spoke.
Renae skipped down the hall beside Kevon, their laughter echoing off the walls. He twirled his body like a sword, and I spun in circles, pretending to faint dramatically every few steps. Students stared, whispering, but neither of us cared. That was the magic of me—my chaos was contagious, and Kevon had caught it completely.
By the time we reached the School of Architecture, the energy was electric. The building loomed sleek and modern, glass catching the sunlight, models of bridges and towers displayed in the lobby. I burst through the doors like I was storming a stage, hands on my hips, voice loud enough to turn heads.
"Well, well, well," I announced, sassy and unapologetic. "The future architect has arrived. Please, contain your applause."
Students froze mid sketch, jaws dropping, some laughing nervously, others just staring in awe. Kevon shook his head, grinning, as I strutted forward like I owned the place.
My new advisor, Professor Abolo, stepped out of his office, eyebrows raised but clearly amused. "You must be Renae Richards," he said, voice calm but curious.
"That's me," I replied, flipping my hair. "Actress, architect, chaos enthusiast. Ready to build worlds and break expectations."
Abolo chuckled, motioning me inside. "Then let's talk about how we'll shape your four years."
Once seated, I watched him carefully as he took out my plans. "So, our advisor Lady Amara is ill, so we built these schedules to help pave and shape the way of your future."
"Lay it on me," I spoke, excited, almost bouncing with anticipation in my chair.
Smiling at my eagerness to dive into my major, he began:
• Year One: Foundations in design, drafting, and architectural history. Studio projects to teach discipline and precision.
• Year Two: Materials, construction systems, and sustainable design. Field trips to Los Angeles landmarks, learning from the city itself.
• Year Three: Advanced studios, urban design, and collaborations with engineering students. Opportunities to study abroad and join design competitions.
• Year Four: Thesis project—a full architectural design that defines my vision. A showcase that proves I can stand as both designer and dreamer.
"Also, I encourage you to get fully involved in clubs: the Architecture Student Association, sustainability groups, and design competitions that will push your creativity."
"I will! Just point me in the direction and I'll sign up right now," I spoke, so excited I jumped from my seat, my eyes glossing like a child's.
"I will show you the whole world of what being an architect really is. But first, let's go outside and view some designs my students are currently making," he encouraged, standing up and leading me outside his office.
Soon we were touring studios and workshops, each space buzzing with energy, models stacked high, and students bent over blueprints.
Kevon lingered at the doorway, watching me dive into the new world with the same fearless energy I carried everywhere. Finally, he stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder.
"This is where I leave you, mah lady," he said with a grin. "Professor Abolo will guide you through your architecture madness. I'll see you around when it's time to rehearse for your acting major."
I winked, already flipping through a stack of design sketches. "Don't worry, Kevon. I'll be extraordinary in both. Acting, architecture, chaos—it's all mine."
Kevon laughed, shaking his head as he walked away, leaving me in the middle of the studio, already commanding attention, already making the space my own.
Soon I said my goodbyes, excited to meet back up with Veronica to hear all about her day and to tell her all about mine…
This future of mine looked bright, and I was more than ready to dive in. No brakes. Full gas. Full energy, full determination. Fully geared to know that this will not be easy buuut the rewards will definitely be worth it.
"Can you believe Fabian is with that low life fucking slut," the eyeliner girl spoke, super pissed.
"Who… the girl from this morning with her crazy coke head personality sister that drove the GLE coupe?" another student asked.
Cocking my ears, catching on that the conversation was about Veronica and me, I felt a knot in my stomach. Did they hurt my sister? If that bitch laid a hand on her… I'll be using my heels to stab her eyeballs from her ball socket right through her cranium.
"Yes, that bitch… And Fabian had the audacity to—"
"Did you put your disgusting disabled hands on my sister, you dumb slut?" I spoke with lacing anger, eyes dark, completely knowing she was dead if her answer was yes.
Watching her step back as they watched me stride toward them, fire extinguisher in my hands that I had mounted off the wall, ready to smash someone's head in.
"Did… you…???" I spoke through gritted teeth.
The extinguisher hung in the air, heavy with the weight of my fury. Gasps echoed around us, the crowd frozen, waiting to see if I'd bring it down. My eyes locked on hers, daring her to answer.
She stumbled back, voice cracking. "I didn't touch her! I swear!"
The words rang hollow, but the fear in her eyes was real. My grip tightened, every muscle screaming to release the rage, but Fabian's voice cut through the haze.
"Veronica's fine," he said firmly, stepping between us. "She's shaken, but unharmed. Don't let her drag you into this madness."
I lowered the extinguisher slowly, breath ragged, the adrenaline still burning in my veins. The crowd whispered, the tension thick as smoke.
"You so much as breathe wrong near my sister again," I hissed, my voice sharp as glass, "and you'll wish this extinguisher had landed."
Her face twisted, torn between defiance and fear, but she said nothing. Fabian's hand closed around mine, grounding me, pulling me back from the edge.
The extinguisher clanged as I set it down, the sound echoing like a warning. The fight wasn't over—not by a long shot—but for now, the stage was mine, and she knew it.
"Where is my sister?" I spoke through gritted teeth, still pissed I didn't get to slam her head in.
"In front of the welcome centre… I left her there to look for you. And luckily I did, or you would have murdered her," Fabian spoke, completely traumatized that both sisters were fun as hell but vipers if messed with.
Walking away from them, I turned around one last time.
"Mess with us and so help me God, I don't care if you could be my great great great great ancestor… I will rip your brain from your skull. Got it?" I threatened with so much venom, already imagining doing it. Watching them nod, I smiled dangerously, running in the direction where I could once again see Veronica.
Running through the students, ignoring their whispers. I didn't care. I was on a mission.
All I wanted was to see Veronica, because no one was going to hurt her again. No university punk. Not her biological family again. No one!!!. And I'm damn sure of that. Not while I'm breathing.
And that was my sincere promise to her.