Monday, October 9th
In the days after the Academic Competition, something in the freshman grat shifted. It wasn't dramatic or loud- just a quiet, unmistakable change. Stutspoke to each other more easily, laughter came a little softer, and the hallways felt less like corridors and more like shared paths.
Even with midterms only a week away, there was a subtle sense of unity- like the cheering, competing, and supporting each other last week had woven an invisible thread through all of us.
The school felt different. Not brighter- just warmer. As if everyone carried the memory of standing together, even if we were on different groups. Students who barely acknowledged one another before now exchanged nods, half-smiles, small gestures of recognition. A silent understanding: We were there. We did that. Together.
During lunch, I sat beneath the oak tree behind the cafeteria, flipping through my History notes after finishing my meal. The breeze rustled the pages, it felt almost peaceful.
Emilia found me there, sitting beside me with a drink in hand.
"Can we have a study session this afternoon?" she asked. "After my Freshman Council duties. In the library?"
I hesitated. Studying with someone always felt distant. Like stepping into a rhythm I wasn't sure I could match anymore. But her expression had no pressure in it- just gentle familiarity.
"Yeah," I said quietly but sure enough. Her eyes brightened. "Gret. 5;00 P.M. then."
By the time I arrived, the library was already humming softly. Sunlight slipped through the tall windows in warm, golden sheeta. A few freshman had claimed tables, notebooks and worksheets spread in organized chaos.
I took a quiet corner table and began reviewing my notes. When Emilia walked in and sat across from me. I expected a familiar tightness in my stomach- the feeling of discomfort, the instinct to withdraw. But it didn't come. Not this time.
As we worked through equations and vocabulary, something subtle clicked into place.
I realized: I wasn't standing outside of the life anymore, watching it move without me. I was in it- even if only just beginning to step forward.
Midterm was coming- the stress, the late nights, the tired eyes. But for the first time in a long while, I didn't feel like I would have to face any of it alone.
The golden light drifted across our table, dust motes floating like tiny stars. Pens scratched, papers turned, our thoughts weaving in quiet, easy rhythm.
Then- while comparing math solutions- Emilia made a lighthearted comment about the problem. It wasn't meant to be deep, but it landed in me gently like a quiet knock.
A memory surfaced:
Vivian and I on her front steps in Starlight Hills- the two of us racing through math problems just for fun. She always won. Then she'd bumped her shoulder into mine and say:
"One day, I'll find someone who can keep up with me- not just in academics, but also in athletics. Maybe it'll be you."
I used to believe her. Before the accident. Before everything changed.
This time, the memory didn't hurt. It was warm. Soft around the edges.
Emilia noticed the shift in me. She didn't ask about it. She didn't filled the silence. She simply stayed quiet.
When we finally left the library, I felt like I gradually getting used to Emilia as a friend- something quieter, steadier. A beginning.
In the evening, when I got home, the house was quiet- not empty, just peaceful. My uncle was at the dining table, normally he came home late. Papers were spread neatly around him under warm light. He looked up, expression gentle, when I entered.
"How was school today?"
Weeks ago, I might have shrugged or answered with silence. But tonight-
"It was good," I said. "We're studying together for midterm coming next week."
A small, warm smile appeard- the kind of smile that didn't demand no expectations, no pressure- on his face.
"That's good," he said. "Things are easier when you have people beside you."
He didn't mention my parents. He didn't mention the company. He didn't mention loss. He just let the moment live.
And for the first time since I arrived, It didn't feel like I was staying in someone else's home.
I felt like somewhere I could return to.
Over the next few days, a rhythm formed: Early reviews in the library. Notes passed back and forth during lunch. Occasional laughter between sighs of exhaustion. I was tired. But we were tired together.
There were mistakes so ridiculous we burst out laughing, tiny victories that felt larger than they were, shared glances of we're trying- we won't give up. And slowly- the distance between us thinned.
We weren't just preparing for exams. We were learning- to trust eachother and to rely on eachother.
For me, it was slow. Fragile. Like stitching something back together thread by thread.
But the threads were holding. And that was enough. For now.