The Other Name

Chapter 3

The gate stood taller than it should’ve. Iron and silence.
Above it, engraved in stone:
St. Ilaria’s Cloister

No welcome. No colour. Only grey walls and trimmed shadows.

I stood still.

“Baba,” I whispered, “this is where I’ve landed.”
My hand brushed the place near my chest where the vase used to be.
The light shines within you, he had said once.
I held on to that.

Inside, the halls were empty. The air didn’t move. The quiet wasn’t peace—it was rule.
Arabella walked ahead. I followed.

They made me wait on a bench outside the principal’s chamber.
A name carved into brass:
Sister Bellaris

The name struck me—Bellaris.
Too smooth to be kind.
Too strange to forget.
It sounded like stone dipped in silk.

Arabella disappeared inside with her usual mask of warmth and polish. I could hear her tone—sweet, practiced, false.

I looked around. Even the light here was clean. Too clean. Like it didn’t want to touch you.

This place didn’t ask who you were.
It told you who to become.

But I still had Baba’s words.
And I still had myself.

So I sat. Still. Silent.
And waited.

A nun opened the door just as Arabella stepped out with her carefully polite smile still sitting on her lips. She didn’t even look at me.

“This way,” the sister said softly, and I followed her down a long, narrow hallway that smelled like stone and polish.

She didn’t tell me her name. Just walked, fast and efficient. I had to keep up.

We stopped at a small wooden door. She unlocked it and nodded for me to enter.

My dorm.

The room was narrow, quiet, and cold like the rest of the place. The curtains didn’t move. The window barely opened.
There were three beds, not one.
Mine was the one by the wall.
The other two were made already — sheets tucked, pillows placed just right. That meant I had roommates. But they weren’t here yet.

The thought of sharing this grey room with strangers didn’t comfort me. It felt more like a slow sentence.

“You can leave your bag here,” the sister said. “And this is your uniform.”

She handed me the folded cloth.
Grey. Like everything else.
Not just grey. Pale grey, charcoal grey, ghost grey. Even the thread looked like it had given up trying to be anything else.

I changed quickly, folded my old clothes like they mattered, and placed them at the back of the cupboard.

The sister was waiting again when I stepped out.
Wordless.
Like everything here.

And then she took me to class.

When I stepped into the classroom, the silence was the first thing I felt. It wasn’t just quiet — it was still. Contained. Like everything had been drained of color and sound.

The sister’s voice rose, clipped and controlled.
“This is Azra Kailan. She will be joining you from today.”

I didn’t look at her. My eyes had already drifted elsewhere — to the corner near the window, where one desk sat empty.

In front of that desk was a boy.

And something about him made me pause.

He wasn’t like the others.
There was no stiffness in his shoulders, no urgency in his posture. He leaned slightly to the side, his fingers playing absently with a pencil. His hair curled at the ends, dark and untamed, and his eyes — even across the distance — held something sharp. Something alive.

It wasn’t that he was handsome, though he was.
It was that he seemed untouched by the grey.

He looked like a whisper of another world — one that hadn’t folded itself to the rules of this place.

And for a brief second, I forgot where I was. I forgot everything.
There was only this strange tightness in my chest, like something shifting.

“Introduce yourself,” the sister said again.

I didn’t speak. I just kept looking.

Then she snapped, “I only say it once. If you don’t speak, you’ll be punished.”

Still, nothing came out of me.

My silence hardened into something deliberate, and the sister’s voice followed like stone hitting glass.
“You’ll work in the library. Four days.”

Only then did I look away.

But even as I walked to the desk near the window, I could feel the weight of his presence.
Like he saw more than he was supposed to.

And that unsettled me more than any punishment could.

The day dragged itself to an end like a grey thread unraveling slowly. By the time I stepped out of the classroom, my body ached with silence. The kind that sinks deep into your skin when you haven’t spoken all day.

I walked through the pale corridors, past clean walls that didn’t allow fingerprints, past windows that let in only flat light. The whole place felt like it had been drained of sound, of laughter, of color. Even the air tasted like rules.

I reached my dorm, not expecting anything.

But the door creaked open to voices.

Two girls stood inside — my new roommates.

One of them turned to look at me. She was beautiful in that polished, untouchable way — with flawless skin, long dark hair tied back with a grey ribbon, and eyes that held a strange quiet confidence. Everything about her screamed money. The kind of girl who had never been told no.

The other was shorter, wore thick-framed glasses, and had her hair in a practical braid. She didn’t even glance at me. She’d already made herself at home, seated at the desk with her notes spread out, already scribbling something down. Her expression was calm, focused, like the chaos of the world couldn’t touch her here.

The beautiful one had changed out of her school uniform and was sitting before the mirror, brushing her hair slowly. Even her after-school dress was grey. Light grey top, darker grey skirt. And yet somehow, she made the dull color look expensive. Like it belonged on a runway.

Their voices had dropped the moment I entered.

No one spoke to me.

I dropped my bag by the empty bed and sat down, quietly. I didn't want to be seen, but somehow I knew they were both aware of me. Watching me out of the corners of their eyes.

In that moment, I missed Isla more than anything.
The way she would’ve made a joke right now.
The way Baba would’ve called me his little warrior, reminded me that light shines within you, Azra.

But here, everything felt heavy. Even the light.

Even me.

The girl at the desk suddenly turned her chair toward me, the legs scraping lightly against the floor.

“I’m Aveline,” she said, her voice surprisingly warm. “A-V-E-L-I-E-N-E, in case you were wondering. Everyone gets it wrong.”

I blinked at her.

She adjusted her glasses and nodded toward the other girl still at the mirror. “That’s Maelis. She’s kind of… well, the crown jewel of this place. Smart, stunning, terrifying in debates. Everyone either wants to be her or be on her good side.”

Maelis didn’t react to that. She just kept brushing her hair slowly, like she already knew every word Aveline was saying.

Aveline leaned a little closer, lowering her voice just enough to sound conspiratorial. “If you ever want to know anything — about the teachers, students, who got detention last week for sneaking a chocolate bar into math class — I’m your girl. Walking bulletin board. Or, as some like to say, the unofficial morning newspaper.”

She smiled again, not in a mocking way, but more like someone who had made peace with the fact that she knew everything and saw everything — and couldn’t help it.

I managed the faintest nod. I didn’t trust my voice just yet.

She didn’t seem to mind.

“We don’t get many new faces,” she added, softer this time. “So… welcome, ...she paused."Azra" I supplied "Azra" she repeated.

My name sounded strange here. Like it didn’t belong.
But at least someone had spoken it.

And that was a start.

After Aveline finished talking, I stood up slowly, my body still carrying the weight of the day. Without saying much, I picked up the bag I hadn’t even unpacked and walked into the bathroom to change.

I hadn’t planned anything. I just pulled out the first thing I could find—an old soft top in pink, the kind of color that always made Baba smile when I wore it. When I stepped back into the room, I felt both girls’ eyes land on me.

Aveline blinked. “Uh… Azra?”

I looked at her, brushing my fingers through my hair.

“No colors are allowed here,” she said, a little softer now. “Even after school hours. We still have to wear grey.”

I stared down at my pink top, suddenly aware of how loud it looked in this room drained of all color. “I… I don’t have anything grey.”

That’s when Maelis stood from the mirror, walking over to the wardrobe. She didn’t say anything for a moment—just opened a drawer and pulled out a folded grey set, light ash in shade, almost too perfect. She walked over and handed it to me.

“This should fit you,” she said, her voice calm, steady. “I don’t wear this one much.”

I looked at her, surprised. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower, her skin glowing under the white light of the dorm. She looked like someone sculpted to belong here—beautiful, untouchable, controlled.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, and took the clothes.

After changing, I came back out, and Aveline was back to her book again.

“Do you know where the library is?” I asked.

She glanced up. “Ah, right. Your punishment.”

I didn’t reply.

She pointed toward the corridor. “Go out, take the second left, there’s a staircase. Down that and to the right. If it smells like old dust and the air feels judgmental, you’ve found it.”

A hint of a smile almost tugged at my lips. Almost.

The library smelled like old wood and older secrets. Rows and rows of shelves stood like silent guardians, some books stacked neatly, others slouched tiredly against each other, waiting to be returned to their rightful places. It was dim inside, just enough light from the tall, arched windows, as if even the sun hesitated to shine here too brightly.

The librarian, an older woman with her hair tied so tightly that it looked like it hurt, looked up from her desk. Her voice was dry and brief.
"All the books taken today by students are on that table. Put them back where they belong. And quietly."

I nodded, saying nothing, then turned to the table she pointed to. There was a pile of books, some thin, some thick, all marked with faded codes on their spines. I started with the easiest ones, moving through the aisles carefully, scanning the dusty labels, replacing them where they belonged.

While I was placing one of the thicker books back onto a middle shelf, I saw him.

He sat at a long table to my right, fingers gliding over the pages of a textbook as if he could read by touch alone. His hair was shaved close on the sides, clean and sharp, his glasses resting perfectly over his nose, his profile cut like something deliberate. Focused. Untouched by whatever noise the world made.

I hesitated for a moment, holding a book I didn’t recognize. It had no clear section code, and I couldn’t figure out where it went.

“Hey,” I said softly, stepping a little closer. “Do you know where this one belongs?”

He didn’t even look up.

I blinked. “Can you hear me?”

Still nothing.

No acknowledgment, not even a twitch of his shoulder. He just kept reading, eyes moving steadily across the page.

A flush crept up my neck. I wasn’t used to being ignored like that.

Fine.

I turned away without another word, gripping the book tighter, and went on searching the shelves by myself.

But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop thinking about how someone could seem so silent and yet so loud in their absence of words.

By the time I finished stacking the last book, my arms ached and my fingers were lined with fine dust. The librarian gave me a sharp nod, and I took that as permission to leave. The corridors outside were echoing with footsteps and voices—all heading toward the dining hall. My stomach felt hollow, but I didn’t feel like eating. Not here. Not with so many eyes watching.

I turned the other way and walked back to the dorm.

The corridor was quiet, the kind of silence that made your own breath sound too loud. I opened the door to my room. No one was there. Aveline and Maelis had probably already gone for dinner. Their beds were neat, the window half open, letting in the scent of night and a faint breeze.

I sat on the edge of my bed and pulled my knees close to my chest.

And then I heard it.

A faint thump.

I turned.

The window.

A hand gripped the ledge, followed by the quiet scrape of a shoe. I froze.

Within seconds, a boy hoisted himself up and swung into the room with the ease of someone who’d done it a hundred times before.

My breath caught.

It was him.

The boy from class. The one who sat in front of me.

I stood frozen. The boy didn’t flinch. He shut the window behind him like it was just another door, like he belonged in places he wasn’t meant to be.

He looked around the room lazily, then his eyes met mine like he’d only now noticed me.

"You’re not at dinner," he said again, voice smooth, almost amused.

"And you’re... definitely not supposed to be here," I said.

He leaned back against the edge of the desk like it was his, like the rules didn’t matter to him.

"Clearly," he said, grinning. "But you don’t seem like you follow them either."

I frowned. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Middle of the term," he said, walking past me, hands in his pockets. "New face. New uniform. Looks like someone got thrown in here for... good behavior?"

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure if I was annoyed or... just confused by him.

He smirked. "Let me guess. Expelled? Suspended? Or did you punch someone important?"

I folded my arms. "Do you always talk to strangers like this?"

"Only the ones who stand in their own room like they’re lost."

I hated that he wasn’t exactly wrong.

He tilted his head, eyes scanning mine for something—some reaction, maybe.

"Leith," he said finally, with a shrug. "In case you were going to ask."

"I wasn’t."

That made him smile wider. Like he enjoyed the challenge.

Just then, the door opened.

Maelis stepped in first, her hair now tied up neatly, grey cardigan draped over her arm. She stopped when she saw him, but only for a moment before walking straight to him like it was expected.

He smiled—so differently than he did at me—and opened his arms as she stepped into them.

"Long day?" she asked softly.

"Usual," he said, his voice suddenly warmer. "Sister Bellaris almost made me write the rules five times today."

Maelis rolled her eyes and laughed as she untied her scarf. "That’s what happens when you skip classes, Leith."

Just behind her, Aveline entered, balancing a tray of wrapped buns.

"Azra," she said, dropping onto her bed, "that’s Leith. And Maelis. They’re sort of a... thing."

She wiggled her fingers vaguely in the air like the word ‘couple’ didn’t quite cover it.

"He comes here most nights after lights-out," she added casually, "to whisper sweet nothings and corrupt the silence."

I didn’t say anything. I just stood there, watching the way Maelis smiled at him and the way he looked at her like the whole grey world could vanish for a second.

I suddenly felt more out of place than I already did.

And yet... I couldn’t stop glancing at him. At Leith.

He’d walked in through the window like a storm. And somehow, now the whole room felt different.

I didn’t say much after that. Just nodded vaguely when Maelis offered me her extra blanket, mumbled a quiet thanks, and climbed into bed.

The mattress was firmer than I was used to. The sheets smelled of starch and lavender, like they hadn’t been touched by anyone real in a while. I turned to the wall, away from the others. Their laughter and murmurs still danced in the air, but I let them fade.

My eyes wandered up to the ceiling as my fingers curled under the blanket.

Baba used to sit by my side until I fell asleep. Every single night, no matter how tired he was. He would brush my hair back, just lightly, with that soft touch only fathers had. And he would whisper stories that didn’t always make sense—about brave girls with bright eyes and fire in their hearts.

"Light lives inside you, Azra,". "Even in the dark, remember that. Even when no one else can see it."

I used to smile at those words. Now they just ached.

I missed the way his voice dropped when he got serious. I missed the way he folded my blanket just once at the corner like a signature. I missed... him. More than I ever let myself admit during the day.

My throat tightened, and I bit the inside of my cheek.

If I cried now, it would be silent. Because no one here would understand. No one had his voice. No one said "Azra" the way he did.

I closed my eyes and turned deeper into the pillow.

Just a little longer, Baba. I’ll figure it out. I’ll be strong.

And slowly, the heaviness behind my eyes took over.

I drifted off with the last echo of his voice in my head, like a lullaby only I could still hear.