What We Found In The Dark (where grief meets us)

This university looks too ordinary and normal for a place that killed someone I loved. Students walked past me with cups of coffee and their bags, laughing crazily like nothing has ever gone wrong here. I wasn't supposed to come back here. That was the promise I made at the funeral, sitting close to a closed casket, staring at flowers that would never be enough. I had sworn never to come back here again but promises is nothing when the truth is buried with the dead. They said Noah took his own life. They said there was no sign of struggle, and there's no reason to dig deeper. They spoke in careful voices, trying to make me believe them. But I didn't. I still don't. I stopped just a few steps away from the iron gates of Northvale University and tightened my grip on the strap of my bag. My fingers trembled, and I assumed it's the cold, even when the sun warms my skin. I stood rooted to the spot as my eyes scanned the whole area. Every building looks familiar from the pictures Noah sent me. I recognize every area of the school. My phone vibrated in my pocket. For a millisecond, my heart lifted painfully, before I remember. I don't need to check the screen to know it isn't him. Still, I do. It's a class reminder, freshmen orientation. Welcome to Northvale. By the time I looked away from my phone, I saw a female student walking towards me. "Hi, are you Sophia Brown?" she asked, and I nodded. "Please come with me," she said, "To where please?" I found myself asking. "The vice-chancellor requested for your presence at her office, and I doubt you know where that is located. So please, follow me." the girl said, and began to walk away. I let out a scoff. I actually know where the vice-chancellor's office is, but I pretended not to know. Noah literally showed me every single part of this university. "Are you not coming?" her voice brought me back to reality. I walked up to her, and together, we headed to the vice-chancellor's office. **** The girl led me into the office. There, a woman who seemed to be in her mid-forties was sitting on the chair, regally. "Thank you Olivia. You can go." she said to the girl who bowed slightly before walking out of the office. The vice-chancellor returned her gaze to me. I kept a straight face. My mind kept on screaming "Why am I here?!", but I dare not ask that out loud. "Please be seated," she pointed at the chair in front of her desk, and I sat down quietly. "Miss Sophia, is it?" "Yes ma'am." "Alright. Let me go straight to the point. What are your goals after class? What makes you unique? And what can we improve?" I stared at her in confusion. Seriously?? "Is this why you summoned me here??" I screamed in my mind. I cleared my throat as I began answering her questions. **** I stepped out of the vice-chancellor's office. The meeting with her was irrelevant. I don't need all the things she was lecturing me about. I let out a heavy sigh and my legs began to find their ways to the Quad. My feet remember the way even when I pretended I don't. My eyes were full of grief, and my mind full of unanswered questions. Standing by the entrance of the Quad, my eyes scanned through every angle — wide grass, tall trees, students in every corner, sunlight penetrating through leaves. It's beautiful, and my anger deepens. How could everything look so normal?? After what had happened here. Close to the center is a wooden bench with a small bronze plaque fixed to its back. I didn't think I'd come here first. My body chose it for me. I walked slowly towards the wooden bench, and I noticed something awkward. It feels off. People are staring at me. Literally everyone. Once my gaze meets with some, they looked away immediately. There, I knew rumours must have spread. Maybe they knew who I was. Or maybe not. Nevertheless, I continued my walk to the wooden bench. Someone has left a white rose on it. It's petals are starting to curl at the edges, already wilting. I looked at it longer than I should. I wonder how long it's been there. The plaque is a general dedication — in memory of those we've lost. Safe, vague, and easy to forget. I ran my fingers through the words, and imagined Noah's name there, carved deep enough to last. "It still looks the same," a masculine voice said behind me. I turned swiftly, startled. He was standing a few steps away, his hands tucked in his pockets, and his dark hair slightly rough like he had ran his fingers through it so many times. His eyes looked tired in a way I recognize. Grief recognizes grief. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—you know—just—this bench is—" "I know," I said, surprised at how steady my voice came out. "It does that," I added. He nodded once, as if relieved that I understand. Silence followed as we stood rooted to the spots. The noise of the campus getting too loud. Students passing by, oblivious of what's happening. "You knew him," he finally said. That obviously is not a question. "Yes," "So did I," Hearing that, I glanced at him again, really stare this time, and I realized that I've seen him before — in pictures Noah sent, talking about classes and friends and everything he was building here. "You're Theodore," I said. His eyes widened in surprise, "And you're Sophia," Hearing my name from a stranger feels strange. Dangerous. "I'm sorry," he said, and this time, it didn't sound automatic. It's intentional. "About everything." "Me too." Silence followed again. Few miles away from us, someone laughed. A bird took off from the trees. The wind blew the leaves to and fro. Life goes on, unapologetic. "I don't believe it really was a suicide," I muttered quietly. Lowering my gaze, I started playing with my fingernails. That's what I do when I'm sad or confused. Theodore didn't say anything at that moment, but when he looked up, "Neither do I," he finally said. The breeze blew my hair to my face, and I used my fingers to brush it back. Whatever this is, whatever I've come back for — I know one thing with absolute certainty. The truth didn't die with Noah. And I'm back here for answers, not for closure.