This is grief story chapter 6

cotext of earlier chapters so that you dont feel confused - her little bro had died in chapter 2 so from that day she is been suffering a lot and she transferred to new university there she starts facing bullies . once she got locked up by them in a room and this senior was the one who unlovked the door.

The sunlight was fighting to get in, but my room stayed stubborn. It had been dark for so long that the curtains felt more

like skin than fabric. For the first time in days, I wasn’t miserable— was just... drained.

It was 6:57 AM. Eva’s name was already flashing on my screen. She had this habit of texting and calling me like it was a full-time job.

"You okay?? Reply to me. How is university?"

I stared at the glowing letters until they blurred. "I’m okay," I finally typed. It was a lie, but it was a start.

"Gosh, it’s a miracle! You’re actually replying," the bubbles popped up instantly. "Have you had breakfast? How is the new university really?"

"I’m fine, Eva. It’s just... not what I expected. I can’t explain it all in a chat. About breakfast i will just grab a coffee from uni"

"Are you going to call your parents? Just once?"

I looked away. I wanted to call them, but I was terrified of what I’d hear—or what I wouldn’t. I was terrified of their silence.

"I’m coming to your dorm this weekend," Eva’s final message read. "Don’t even try to stop me."

"Fine," I muttered, clicking the screen black. "Fine.”

I spent the rest of the morning doomscrolling through old chats with my parents. My thumb hovered over the call button, but I couldn't press it. I didn’t want to give them a reason to hate me, but more than that, I was terrified that if I didn't make a move, the silence would finally swallow me whole.

Maybe I should just leave a text.

My fingers faltered. What would I even say? That I’m okay? Or ask how they are? Every word felt like I was betraying their son. I didn’t want to hear their pity, and I certainly didn't want to hear their cruel truths.

I gave up on the phone and shoved myself into a black hoodie. Every step toward campus felt like I was dragging a heavy chain. I avoided the main paths, skirting the edges of the garden until I found a bench behind the library. It was a sea of color—flowers I couldn't name and students whose laughter felt like shards of glass.

I sat there, staring at a coffee I had no intention of drinking, watching the "popular" girls gossip near the fountain. I told myself I didn't care. I told myself I was too lost to even notice them. But the truth was, I was just too hollow to face them.

Then, a shadow stretched over my lap.

"So, let me guess... alone again?"

I looked up. It was him—the Senior. He was with a group of friends, but he’d drifted away to find me.

"Wow, wasn't that obvious, Senior?" I said, my voice edged with a cold, sharp sarcasm.

“Edric,” he said, “call me edric” He swiped my bag aside and claimed the space next to me as if he owned it. I didn't want anyone getting close enough to see the cracks in my armor. “And why would I call you by your name?” I asked. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, mocking drawl that made my skin prickle. “Fine, if you are going to be so formal, you might as well go all the way and call me ‘sir’. It suits you better. “It's because names are for people I actually plan on remembering, senior.” he suddenly looked at me with wide mock offended eyes, “ouch. I think my soul just got a paper cut.”

His sarcasm made me look at him properly. “Come on, ghost,” he said, pushing off the bench. I'll drop you to your class, not because I want to, but because my block is near yours.”

clearly.

He snatched up his bag and, before I protest, grabbed mine too. The walk wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't awkward either. As we reached the door to my lecture hall, I hesitated. I should have said something. a thank you, or even a 'go away'but the words clotted in my throat. I got my bag from him and went inside.

Inside, the room was already a hive of whispers.

The conversation died the second I stepped in. All eyes pivoted toward me like heat-seeking missiles.

"Move," I muttered, my voice barely a thread.

To my surprise, they parted, though not without a price. One of them let out a jagged, mocking laugh. "Careful," she whispered as I passed. "Don't trip over your own shadow."

The comment bit, but I kept my face a mask of stone. It wasn't until I reached the safety of the back row that my composure slipped. I sat down, my fingers white-knuckled as I gripped my pen so tightly I thought the plastic might snap.

Once the professor started the lecture, the whispers faded into a dull hum. Their words didn't really sting anymore. I was used to the insults. What actually hurt was the erasure. The way I was treated was like a piece of discarded trash that everyone just walked around.

By 2:36 PM, the morning block was finally over. We had a one-hour gap before the afternoon session, but the thought of the canteen made my stomach knot. Sitting alone in a crowded hall felt like being a specimen under a microscope. A "ghost" that everyone was trying not to see.

I skirted the edges of the campus and headed for the garden behind the library. There was no food there, but I wasn't hungry for anything but silence. I was searching for a corner to disappear into when a shadow flickered beside mine.

"Hey!"

I turned, and for a heartbeat, the world felt real again. Ava. My brain couldn't even process how she was here before she crashed into me. She pulled me into a hug so fierce it felt like she was trying to stitch my soul back together. It was a physical weight I hadn't realized I was craving.

"You said you were coming on the weekend," I said, finally unpeeling myself from her.

"I know," she said, her eyes searching mine. "I changed my mind."

She didn't give me a chance to protest. She grabbed my hand and led me toward the same stone seat I had shared with the Senior that morning. "Fiya, you're going to tell me everything. Now."

"I'm fine," I lied.

"You're a terrible liar," she countered softly.

Ava and I had been friends for so long that she could read my emotions like a worn-out book. "I'm okay with waiting," she added, her voice a warm blanket against my cold interior. Just being near her made the heavy tiredness in my bones begin to dissolve. She was my safe harbor. The only person who knew the girl I was before the grief took her.