Kitty... or Kathy..?? It was a name I was still confused about, even now.
Kitty was never the loudest person in the room.
At Campus 2, where confidence was often performed and attention was chased, Kitty existed differently. She didn't enter spaces expecting to be noticed, yet people always noticed when she was there. Conversations softened. Noise settled. Things felt more balanced, even if no one could explain why.
She sat near the aisle during lectures. Close enough to participate, far enough to leave quietly if she needed to. Her posture was relaxed but attentive, like someone who listened with her whole body. When lecturers spoke, she didn't rush to write. She listened first, then wrote only what mattered.
Her notebooks were neat, but not rigid.
Lines guided her handwriting, but she didn't obey them strictly. Important ideas were circled gently, never boxed aggressively. Margins held short reminders written smaller, personal notes meant only for her future self.
In anatomy, she followed the Atlas of Human Anatomy, 20th Edition slowly, tracing structures with her finger as if she was mapping something sacred.
In physiology, with Berne and Levy open in front of her, she asked questions that went past memorization.
"What changes function first?""What does this feel like in a real patient?"
Lecturers noticed. Not because she demanded attention, but because her questions came from care, not competition.
Kitty believed learning had to mean something to someone eventually.Even if she didn't know who yet.
During practical sessions, she moved with quiet confidence.
When practicing blood pressure measurements, she adjusted cuffs gently, explaining as she went.
"It shouldn't hurt," she said softly. "Tell me if it does."
People listened to her without realizing why.
In glucose testing, her hands were steady. She paused when someone flinched. She never rushed. She never made people feel embarrassed for being nervous.
"You're really good at this," HS once said.
Kitty smiled, a little shy. "I'm just careful."
Care, she learned, was its own kind of strength.
She used Apple products exclusively, long before anyone else at Campus 2 did.
iPhone. iPad. MacBook. White cables always neatly coiled. Her desk looked clean, almost intentional, like it had been curated rather than assembled.
TR once squinted at her setup and said, "Why does your life look sponsored?"
Kitty laughed softly. "I just like it when things work together."
JP nodded in approval. "Ecosystem loyalty."
When files wouldn't open or group chats lagged, Kitty waited patiently. She trusted her devices completely.
Everyone teased her for it.Everyone borrowed her charger.
There was a time Kitty avoided mirrors.
Before Campus 2, before most people knew her story, she had lived with thyroid-related eye swelling. One eye slightly more prominent than the other. Not dramatic. Just noticeable enough to become aware of every lingering glance.
She never made it a story.
After surgery, her eyes returned to normal quietly, without announcement or celebration. When someone once said, "You look different now," she only replied, "I feel lighter."
That was all.
She never asked for sympathy.She never explained unless someone genuinely wanted to understand.
Not long after, Kitty became the first student at Campus 2 to fully switch to contact lenses.
At first, it was convenience. Then confidence. Then suddenly, everyone noticed.
"Doesn't it hurt?" PL asked once.
"No," Kitty replied gently. "You get used to it."
Within months, half the campus followed her lead.
No announcements. No trends. Just quiet influence.
Somewhere along the way, people started saying it.
"She's like… the uncrowned queen of Campus 2."
Nobody ever said it to her face.
And if they had, she would have laughed it off.
Kitty never ruled rooms.She balanced them.
She blended into the friend group effortlessly. She laughed at TR's jokes, but never encouraged him when he crossed lines. She listened when PL talked too fast. She noticed when NS went quiet and gave him space instead of questions.
She remembered birthdays. Deadlines. Who hated cold classrooms. Who forgot lunch.
When studying together, Kitty helped without announcing it.
"Try it this way," she'd say gently.
And somehow, things became clearer.
She didn't compete loudly.
But she didn't shrink either.
When ED talked about Europe and timelines and leaving fast, Kitty listened carefully. She didn't interrupt. She didn't compare.
Later, when someone asked her what she wanted to do, she paused longer than expected.
"I want to be useful," she said.
It wasn't vague.It was honest.
Kitty was also one of June's closest friends.
Not inseparable. Not dramatic. Just genuine. They understood each other's silences. Kitty understood June's intensity. June understood Kitty's restraint.
Two different kinds of gravity.
Kitty never competed with that.
She didn't need to.
She liked small comforts.
Warm soup after long classes. Cheap snacks shared on campus steps. Walking instead of riding when the weather allowed. Sitting near windows where sunlight softened everything.
She liked music that didn't try too hard. Songs that felt like conversations.
Sometimes, when the group grew too loud, Kitty drifted slightly aside. Still listening. Still smiling. Protecting a small piece of quiet for herself.
XH noticed.
He noticed the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when thinking.The way her smile changed depending on who she was talking to.The way she leaned forward when something mattered.
Kitty noticed him too.
The way he listened without interrupting.The way he remembered small details.The way he didn't rush silence.
Their conversations were often simple.
Classes. Food. Being tired.
And that was enough.
In social work lectures, when the lecturer said, "You are not here to fix people. You are here to listen first," Kitty underlined the sentence once.
Later, she copied it again at the back of her notebook.
Friends sometimes mistook her kindness for softness.
They were wrong.
Kitty knew how to hold boundaries without raising her voice. She knew how to leave situations that felt wrong, even if she couldn't explain why. She knew empathy did not mean obligation.
At this point in her life, Kitty was balanced, but not settled.
Warm, but observant.Gentle, but firm.Present, but thoughtful about where she stood.
At Campus 2, among shared lunches, long lectures, and laughter that came easy, Kitty was exactly who she needed to be for now.
An uncrowned queen.A careful learner.A quiet force.
And for the moment, that was enough.