Chapter 36 The new room
Lila was already asleep.
Her body was curled on the edge of his roommate’s bed, one arm tucked under the pillow, her breathing soft and uneven like she’d fought sleep until it finally claimed her. Strands of hair clung to her forehead. The faint light from the hallway traced pale shadows across her face.
Asher stood there for a long moment, just watching her. She looked so small, so fragile. Like saying her name too loudly might shatter her.
Quietly, he pulled the blanket higher, tucking it around her shoulders. She murmured something, a name maybe, or a dream but didn’t wake. He turned off the light and crossed to his own bed, lying down slowly so the mattress wouldn’t creak.
For a while, he couldn’t sleep. He could hear the faint rhythm of her breathing, the occasional rustle of sheets. Outside, the wind tapped against the window in uneven beats. He closed his eyes, letting the sound of her quiet steadiness replace the chaos he’d been living in since Ruby’s death.
She was safe tonight. That was enough.
Lila didn’t stir until late morning.By the time her eyes opened, the sun was already high, spilling pale gold across the floor. For a few seconds, she didn’t know where she was. The ceiling above her wasn’t hers, no floral poster, no stack of Ruby’s old art prints.
Just clean white paint, faintly cracked near the corner. Then she remembered Asher. The night before and the fear.
Her pulse quickened, but then she saw him, sitting at the desk, scrolling through his phone, hair messy, eyes half-lidded with sleep. When he noticed her looking, he smiled faintly. “Hey. Welcome back to the world.”
She groaned softly, rubbing her eyes. “What time is it?”
“Almost noon,” he said, standing. “You didn’t move all night.”
She sat up slowly, stretching her sore neck. “I can’t believe I slept that long.”
“You needed it.” He walked over to the small table near the fridge. “I ordered breakfast. Pancakes. Or lunch, technically.”
She blinked, surprised. “You didn’t have to.”
“Yeah, I did,” he said simply. “You haven’t eaten properly in days.”
Her lips parted, but she didn’t argue. The smell of maple syrup drifted from the takeout box, warm and faintly sweet. She realized she was starving. Asher handed her the plate and a bottle of orange juice.
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“Eat,” he said with mock sternness, sitting back at the desk. “That’s an order.”
She laughed quietly, the sound a little rusty from disuse. For the first time in a long while, the world didn’t feel like it was closing in. Just two people in a sunlit dorm, the smell of food, the sound of pages turning as he flipped through a notebook.
By one o’clock, Lila had finished eating and was tying her hair back, preparing to face her own dorm again.
Asher grabbed his keys. “You ready?”
She hesitated. “Not really.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to be.”
They walked together through the courtyard, the day brighter than it had been in weeks. The wind carried the smell of wet grass and coffee from the student café. Groups of students laughed by the benches, their normalcy almost alien to her now.
When they reached her dorm building, she slowed again. Her hands went cold. The last image she remembered from last night, the flickering light, the silence that pressed against her skin came rushing back.
Asher noticed the way her shoulders tensed. “You’re safe,” he said quietly.
“I know,” she whispered, though her body didn’t quite believe it.
Inside, everything was still. The faint smell of cleaning solution lingered. Someone down the hall was playing soft music, something slow and sad. Lila kept her eyes on the floor as she walked.
Her room door looked ordinary again. No note. No petals. No shadow waiting.
She turned the key and stepped in.
The air inside was stale. The bed she hadn’t touched since Ruby’s funeral sat perfectly made, the sheets cold. Ruby’s old side of the room was empty now, her posters gone, desk cleared, closet door left slightly ajar like a half-finished goodbye.
Lila walked to the window and opened it, letting in a rush of fresh air. The curtain lifted and fell again like a slow breath.
Asher stood in the doorway, watching her. “Are you okay?”
She nodded faintly. “It feels different.”
“Different good or different bad?”
“I don’t know yet,” she admitted.
He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “We’ll make sure you don’t have to find out the hard way. Let’s go talk to housing.”
The accommodation office was tucked near the administration wing, a small room with fading posters about “campus life” and “mental wellness.” The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead.
Behind the desk sat a middle-aged woman with reading glasses perched on her nose, typing with slow, deliberate movements. Her name tag read Mrs. Harding.
When Lila stepped in, the woman looked up, polite but distant. “Yes?”
Lila’s voice caught for a second before she found it. “I… I wanted to request a room transfer.”
Mrs. Harding adjusted her glasses. “Room transfer. Any specific reason?”
Lila hesitated, then spoke quietly. “My roommate passed away a few weeks ago. I haven’t been able to sleep properly since then. The room doesn’t feel right. I just can’t stay there.”
The woman’s face softened immediately. “I’m very sorry to hear that, dear.” She clicked through a few files on her screen. “You were in East Hall, Room 214, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you’d like to be moved as soon as possible?”
“Yes, please,” Lila said quickly. “Anywhere else.”
Mrs. Harding nodded. “I’ll see what’s available. You’ll need to sign a form and bring your key in once you’ve packed.”
Asher stayed quiet beside her, his presence steady. His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets, his eyes on Lila the whole time.
After a few minutes of searching, Mrs. Harding looked up. “We’ve got an opening in West Hall. It’s a smaller dorm, but quieter. You’ll have a roommate, a film student, I believe. She moved in last week.”
Lila’s stomach tightened slightly at the word roommate. She forced a small smile. “That’s fine.”
“Perfect. Room 308.” Mrs. Harding slid a key across the counter. “You can move in today. Just let maintenance know when you’re done packing.”
Lila took the key slowly, feeling the cool metal press into her palm. “Thank you.”
“Of course, dear. And.” Mrs. Harding paused, her tone softening again. “If you need to talk to someone, we have counselors on call. Grief can take strange shapes.”
Lila nodded. “I’ll think about it.”
They stepped out of the office into the mild afternoon light. For a moment, Lila just stood there, looking at the key in her hand. The small tag attached to it read 308, West Hall.
“New room,” Asher said, trying to sound upbeat. “New start.”
She nodded absently, twirling the key once between her fingers. “Yeah. New start.”
But her chest still felt heavy. The closer they walked to West Hall, the more her thoughts scattered into fragments of memories brushing past like static.
What if the new room feels just like the old one? What if it smells like roses again? What if the silence follows me there, too?
She shook her head quickly, forcing the thoughts away.
Asher was still talking beside her, something about helping her pack. She tried to listen, but her mind was somewhere else, back in that small, airless room that had once been full of Ruby’s laughter.
When they reached the steps of her old dorm again, Asher stopped her. “Hey,” he said softly. “You’re doing the right thing.”
She gave him a tired smile. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
“It will,” he said. “Sometimes getting away is the first step.”
Lila nodded. She knew he meant well, but deep down, it didn’t feel like she was escaping anything. It felt like running in circles, new walls, new beds, same ghosts.
That evening, after packing her clothes and the few books she hadn’t been able to touch in weeks, she stood in the empty room one last time. The air was cooler now, the fading light stretching across the floor in long, orange lines.
She ran her hand across the edge of Ruby’s old desk, tracing the faint marks left by her camera tripod. A small indentation where she used to rest her elbow. A faint scratch near the corner.
For a moment, Lila smiled. She’d hate how quiet it is now.
Then she picked up her bag and left, locking the door behind her for the last time.
Asher walked her halfway to West Hall, helping carry her things. “Are you sure you’ll be okay from here?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yeah. I’ll text you once I’ve unpacked.”
“Good. And if you need anything.”
“I know,” she said softly. “Thank you.”
He hesitated, then smiled. “Get some rest, Lila.”
She watched him walk away before turning to the new building. West Hall stood taller, the bricks cleaner, the windows wide and bright. It felt new with less history, fewer whispers.
Inside, the hall smelled faintly of detergent and fresh paint. Her shoes squeaked against the polished floor as she climbed the stairs to the third level. She paused in front of Room 308, key in hand.
Her reflection shimmered faintly in the metal door plate. She could see the exhaustion in her face, the dark circles, the strain that never left her eyes.
She slipped the key into the lock.
The door clicked open easily.
For a long second, she didn’t move. Her thoughts drifted to something soft, uncertain, caught between relief and unease.
Would this room be quieter? Warmer? Would her new roommate be kind? Funny? Would she fill the silence the way Ruby once did? Would she be lively, the kind of person who made everything brighter? Or red-haired too?
Her fingers tightened around the key.
A strange shiver ran down her spine not fear exactly, but something close.
Lila’s thoughts lingered on that last question, if her new roommate was red-haired too.