WHISPERS IN THE DARK,

chapter 16

Noelle woke with her body already heavy, as though sleep had not rested her at all. Her head throbbed faintly, her stomach unsettled, her limbs slow to respond. The cold had not left her; instead, it had settled deeper, threading itself through her chest and bones.

‎She sat up slowly, scarf slipping from her shoulders, and listened to her breathing. It was shallow. Uneven.

‎Not today, she thought. Just not today.

‎Still, responsibility tugged at her. She gathered her school things,notebooks, calculator, pens moving carefully, deliberately. She didn’t want to worry her roommates, didn’t want questions she didn’t have the energy to answer.

‎“I’m just going to drop my things in my locker,” she said softly, almost as an afterthought, as she pulled on her coat.

‎Lia looked up immediately. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

‎Noelle nodded, though it wasn’t entirely true. “I’ll come back after.”

‎Samantha frowned but didn’t press. Asle only watched her, eyes thoughtful, as if she sensed something Noelle hadn’t said.

‎The walk to the school felt longer than usual. The hallways were quieter, the echoes sharper. Noelle unlocked her locker slowly, placing her belongings inside with care, aligning everything neatly. The small, metallic space felt strangely reassuring order in a world that felt increasingly unstable.

‎When she closed the locker and turned the key, her hand trembled.

‎That was enough for today.

‎She didn’t attend class. She didn’t linger. She turned around and walked back toward the hostel, each step heavier than the last, her stomach tightening with every breath.

‎By the time she reached her dorm, the world tilted.

‎She barely made it inside before nausea surged violently. Noelle dropped her bag, stumbled toward the bathroom, and vomited until her throat burned and her vision blurred. Her body shook uncontrollably, knees weak, hands gripping the sink as if it were the only thing keeping her upright.

‎When it stopped, she didn’t clean up properly. She didn’t think. She staggered back to her bed, collapsed onto it fully clothed, and curled inward, clutching her scarf like a lifeline.

‎Her chest felt tight. Her breathing shallow. Tears slid silently into her pillow, not from pain alone,but from exhaustion. From grief. From being strong for too long.

‎Then the room grew still.

‎The darkness deepened not frightening, not cold, but familiar.

‎And for the first time, the voice didn’t whisper.

‎It spoke.

‎“Noelle…”

‎Her breath caught.

‎The voice was soft. Warm. Gentle.

‎Just like her mother’s.

‎“It’s alright,” the voice said, close so close it felt like arms around her. “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

‎Her lips trembled. “Mama…?” she whispered, barely audible.

‎“I know,” the voice replied, tender and patient. “I know you’re tired. I know your body hurts. I know you miss me.”

‎Tears spilled freely now, soaking the pillow. Noelle clutched the scarf tighter, as if it might anchor the voice there.

‎“I tried,” she sobbed. “I really tried.”

‎“And you did,” the voice said gently. “You’re doing so well, my brave girl.”

‎Her breathing slowed. The tightness in her chest eased, just a little.

‎“But you don’t have to do this alone,” the voice continued. “Not anymore.”

‎Noelle’s brows furrowed weakly. “I… I don’t know how.”

‎“You already do,” the voice said softly. “There are people near you who care. Let them in. Speak. Smile. Be kind to them and to yourself.”

‎Her mind flickered to Lia’s concern. Samantha’s warmth. Asle’s quiet watchfulness.

‎“I’m scared,” Noelle whispered.

‎“I know,” the voice said. “But you are safe. You are loved. And you are not meant to disappear into the dark forever.”

‎Noelle squeezed her eyes shut. “Please… stay.”

‎There was a pause. A tenderness so deep it almost hurt.

‎“I can’t,” the voice said gently. “But you don’t need me the way you did before.”

‎Her heart sank. “Why?”

‎“Because now,” the voice replied, softer than ever, “you are not alone in the world anymore.”

‎The warmth began to fade. The presence loosened its hold.

‎“Mama..” Noelle cried.

‎“I’m proud of you,” the voice said. “Rest now. And tomorrow… be a little more open. Just a little.”

‎And then silence.

‎The room returned to its ordinary quiet. The heater hummed softly. The light from the hallway slipped faintly under the door.

‎Noelle lay still, breathing slowly, tears drying on her cheeks. Her body was weak, but her heart felt… steadier.

‎After a while, the door creaked open.

‎Lia peeked in first. “Noelle?” she whispered.

‎Samantha followed, holding a mug. Asle stood behind them, eyes full of concern.

‎They saw her pale face. Her curled posture. The scarf clutched tightly in her hands.

‎“Oh,” Lia breathed. “She’s really sick.”

‎Samantha stepped closer, setting the mug down carefully. “We’re here,” she said softly.

‎Noelle opened her eyes.

‎For the first time, she didn’t turn away.

‎“I’m… not okay,” she whispered.

‎And they stayed.

‎