Chapter 35 A place to breathe
Asher shifted beside her. “Lila?” His voice was careful, cautious. “What’s wrong?”
For a second, she didn’t answer. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Then she turned to him, her voice small, almost breaking. “Asher, I can’t sleep here. Not tonight.”
He frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t,” she said again, shaking her head quickly, like she was trying to make sense of her own fear. “Every time I close my eyes, I hear her. Ruby. I hear her humming, or calling my name and when I wake up, it’s like she’s right there. I keep thinking I’ll see her reflection in the mirror or hear her walking across the floor.”
Her breathing came fast, shallow. “I can’t stay here alone. I just can’t.”
Asher’s expression softened immediately. The worry on his face deepened, but there was something steadier behind it. that quiet, patience he always had when she unraveled.
“Okay,” he said, keeping his tone calm. “Then you won’t.”
Lila blinked. “What?”
“You’re not staying here,” he said again. “Come with me. My roommate’s gone for the weekend. You can crash there tonight.”
She hesitated. “Asher, I don’t want to”
“You’re not bothering me,” he interrupted gently. “You need sleep. You need somewhere safe.”
Her chest tightened at the word safe. It sounded foreign now, like something she’d once believed in but couldn’t define anymore.
He reached for her bag. “Come on.”
She let him take it. The weight slid off her shoulder, and for the first time in hours, she exhaled. A shaky, uneven breath, but enough.
As they started walking back across campus, the night felt heavier than usual. The lamps hummed softly, moths circling them like restless ghosts. Lila’s hands were stuffed in her pockets, her body tense even though the air was cool.
Her thoughts were loud, louder than the sound of their footsteps.
What if I never stop hearing her? What if it’s not just grief? What if something’s wrong with me now, something I can’t fix?
The questions tangled in her mind, thick and choking. She barely noticed the breeze or the faint smell of wet leaves from the quad.
Asher walked beside her, his stride even, but his eyes kept darting toward her, watching, checking, making sure she was still there. He didn’t try to fill the silence with small talk. He just stayed close, steady in a way that made her feel a little less like she was drowning.
After a while, he said softly, “We’ll talk to the dorm staff tomorrow. You shouldn’t have to stay there anymore.”
She glanced at him. “You mean, change dorms?”
“Yeah.” His hands were deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched slightly from the wind. “You can move somewhere else. Different buildings if you want. Somewhere with people around. Somewhere you can sleep.”
Her throat tightened again. “I don’t even know if that would help.”
“It’s a start,” he said. Then, quieter: “And you’ll report the gifts too.”
“What?”
“The chocolates. The roses.” His tone sharpened just a little. “You said it’s been happening for weeks, right?”
Lila nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. But maybe it’s nothing. Maybe just..”
“It’s not nothing,” he said firmly. “You said you found one on your pillow. Someone’s getting into your dorm, Lila. That’s not a prank.”
She stared at the ground as they walked, gravel crunching underfoot. “I’ll tell the police,” she murmured. “Tomorrow. I promise.”
“Good,” he said. “We’ll go together if you want.”
The word together lingered between them. It steadied her more than she wanted to admit.
By the time they reached his dorm, the campus had gone quiet. Most of the lights in the building were off, a few thin beams spilling out from under random doors. The air smelled faintly of rain.
Asher unlocked the door and gestured for her to go in first.His room was simple. two beds, one desk cluttered with papers, and a shelf lined with worn-out books. It was messy, but it felt real. Lived in. Not like the hollow stillness of her own room.
Lila stepped inside slowly, like she was crossing into another world.
Asher dropped her bag on the empty bed, his roommate’s bed. “You can sleep here,” he said. “It’s not much, but at least it’s quiet.”
She looked around, unsure what to say. The window was cracked open slightly, the curtains moving in the faint breeze. A hoodie was draped over the chair by the desk, and a half-empty coffee cup sat beside it.
It was ordinary, it felt normal. And somehow, that made her want to cry.
Asher walked to the small fridge in the corner. “There’s water if you want,” he said. “Or tea. You haven’t really eaten.”
She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
He turned back to her, leaning against the desk. “You don’t look fine.”
She tried to smile, but it faltered. “You sound like Roy.”
“Good. He’s right.” He crossed his arms, studying her. “You’ve lost weight.”
Lila sighed. “Can we not talk about how miserable I look?”
He smiled faintly. “You still look like you.”
She looked away quickly, her face warming. “That’s not comforting.”
“I meant it as one,” he said softly.
The silence stretched again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable this time, just fragile, full of things unsaid. Lila sat down on the bed, fingers knotting in the blanket. The mattress dipped slightly under her weight, and she realized how tired she really was. Every muscle in her body ached from holding itself together.
Her voice came out barely above a whisper. “I keep seeing her in my dreams, Asher. Every night. Sometimes she’s standing by the lake. Sometimes she’s in the mirror. Sometimes she’s just… humming.”
Asher’s expression softened. “That’s not your fault.”
“I know,” she said quickly. “But what if it’s not just in my head? What if she’s trying to tell me something? What if I didn’t listen before?”
“Lila,” he said gently, “you can’t keep living in the what-ifs. They’ll eat you alive.”
She rubbed her eyes. “Maybe they already are.”
He crouched slightly so he could meet her gaze. “You’ve been through too much, and you don’t have to face it alone anymore. You’re here now. That’s enough.”
Something in his tone made her chest tighten again not fear this time, but something closer to relief. She nodded slowly.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Just tonight.”
“Just tonight,” he agreed.
She took off her shoes and sat back on the bed, watching as he walked to the desk and turned off the lamp, leaving only the soft glow from the hallway spilling through the crack in the door. The air was cool, calm. For the first time in what felt like forever, the quietness didn’t feel like it was waiting to hurt her.
Asher moved around the room, picking up a few scattered papers and setting them aside. His voice was calm, almost conversational. “You know, you used to fall asleep in class sometimes,” he said, smiling faintly. “Beckett would pause mid-lecture just to glare at you.”
Her lips twitched. “I wasn’t sleeping. I was resting my eyes.”
“Sure,” he said. “You and half the class.”
For a moment, they almost sounded normal again like two students, late at night, trading old jokes to keep the world away. She let herself relax a little, leaning back on the bed, watching him move. His presence filled the space quietly, grounding her like gravity.
But somewhere in that calmness, she felt herself drift not into sleep, but into that strange half-state between exhaustion and awareness, where every sound and shadow blurs. She thought about Ruby’s voice again, her laughter way it used to carry laughter even when she said something mundane. She thought about the way the campus had changed, how every corner now felt like it was waiting.
She thought about how strange it was to feel safe in someone else’s room, when her own dorm, her supposed home, had become unlivable.
Asher was talking again, something about tomorrow’s schedule, about the paperwork for dorm reassignment. His voice was steady, warm, and familiar.
But she didn’t answer.
He turned a little, noticing her silence. “Lila?” he said, half-smiling. “Are you asleep already?”
No reply.
He frowned, setting the papers down and glancing toward her.
“Lila?” he tried again, a little louder this time.
Still nothing.
He turned around.
And froze.