Chapter Two: Ghosts in the Morning
994 Words
The first official morning of her new life began with gray light pouring through thin dorm curtains and a heavy ache in Aria’s chest that felt too old for her eighteen years.
She sat on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around herself, listening to the low hum of campus waking up—the sounds of water running through pipes, doors opening and closing, footsteps in the hallway, laughter from somewhere far off. It was all a little too loud, like the world was already asking too much of her.
Still, she got dressed.
Black jeans. A muted sweater. Her mother’s silver bracelet, the one that never left her wrist anymore.
When she stepped into the hallway, it smelled like cheap air freshener and something burnt from the shared kitchen. The other students were moving around in small clusters—friends, roommates, laughter she didn’t belong to. She didn’t try to insert herself into it. She couldn’t remember how to.
She headed for orientation.
---
The campus auditorium was already half full. Bright lights. Folding chairs. A banner across the front that read, “Welcome to Crestwood University: Where Your Story Begins.”
Aria sat in the back row, next to a girl with strawberry-blonde braids and a bubbly energy that filled the space like sunlight.
“Hi!” the girl whispered. “I’m Lacey. Political science major. You?”
Aria offered a tight smile. “Aria. Literature.”
“Ooh, a reader. I like that.” Lacey leaned closer, her voice playful. “You don’t talk much, huh?”
“I—uh…” Aria stumbled, flustered.
Lacey winked. “That’s okay. I talk enough for both of us.”
The speech began—a long-winded welcome from the dean that talked about opportunity, independence, growth. Aria tried to listen, but her mind kept drifting. Her fingers traced the edge of her bracelet, memories threatening to press through the cracks she’d carefully patched.
She thought about the café. About the boy with the stormcloud eyes and sharp tongue.
You’re in my seat.
His voice echoed, but not just because of his rudeness. There had been something else. A hollowness that mirrored hers.
She hated that she noticed it.
---
After orientation, Lacey insisted they get lunch together. Aria followed her to the student café, a glassy modern building with huge windows that overlooked the sea. The food was average, but Lacey made it feel like a celebration.
“So, do you have any roommates?” Lacey asked between bites of pasta.
“No,” Aria said. “I asked for a single.”
“Oh, smart. I’m stuck with someone named Danielle who’s already mad that I talk in my sleep.”
Aria gave a small laugh. It felt foreign. Like a language she hadn’t spoken in a while.
Lacey grinned. “See? You can smile.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
“Challenge accepted.”
---
Later that day, Aria wandered into the library, which stood like a quiet cathedral at the edge of campus. It was beautiful—high ceilings, spiral staircases, old wooden tables worn smooth by generations of students. She ran her fingers across the spines of books like they were old friends.
She found a small reading nook in the corner and curled into the chair, opening her notebook again. Just like before, the page remained empty. Her mind buzzed with words she couldn’t reach. She tapped the pen rhythmically, trying to coax them out.
“You write with your left hand,” a voice said behind her.
She startled, heart jumping. Turning, she found him—the boy from the café.
Luca.
His hair was slightly tousled, eyes unreadable, but less sharp today. He carried another classic novel—Wuthering Heights this time.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, more defensive than she meant to be.
“Reading. This is a library.” He raised the book slightly like it proved something. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Aria narrowed her eyes. “Should I be flattered or leave?”
“You can do what you want. But for the record, I’m not always an asshole.”
“That implies you were one before.”
“I was,” he said plainly.
That disarmed her.
Luca sat down at the table opposite her, flipping the book open. Silence settled between them, awkward but not unbearable. Aria looked back down at her blank notebook and, to her own surprise, finally scribbled a line:
> “Some people are hurricanes in disguise, blowing through without warning.”
Luca looked up at the sound of her pen.
“Are you a poet?”
“Not anymore,” she said.
He didn’t ask why. And she was grateful.
---
By the time she returned to her dorm, the sun had started its descent behind clouds, casting the sky in watercolor pastels. She stood at her window watching it fade, wondering if her parents ever imagined she’d be here—starting over, trying to breathe through the ache of what she’d lost.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number:
Hey, it’s Lacey. I stole your number from the dorm registry. You’re stuck with me now. We’re friends. Deal with it. :)
Aria smiled before she could stop herself.
Then she glanced at her notebook. One line on an otherwise blank page. But it was something.
She reached for the pen again.
This time, the words came slower, but they came. Lines about waves and memory, about silence and grief. And in the middle of it all, a boy with stormcloud eyes who didn’t ask too many questions.
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That night, as she lay in bed, Aria felt the faintest flicker of something she hadn’t felt in months.
Not happiness. Not yet.
But the possibility of it.
And for now, that was enough to keep her heart beating through the dark.
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- Writer
