Chapter 37 The other side of the room
The new room smelled of detergent and something faintly metallic like coins or rainwater. Lila stood at the doorway with her duffel bag hanging from her shoulder, the key still in her hand. The walls were bare, pale cream, the kind that made every sound echo. The single window overlooked the courtyard, where the sun was already slipping behind the tall oak trees.
There were two beds, two desks, and a single strip of tape running across the floor dividing the space cleanly in half.
Her half was empty.
The other side was already claimed.
A neat row of books lined the desk, their spines perfectly straight. A silver lamp, switched off. A framed photograph turned face-down. Even the blanket on the bed was tucked so sharply that it looked untouched.
Lila swallowed. Her chest felt tight.
She’d been given a new room. A new start. But why did it already feel like someone else’s story?
She stepped in quietly, setting her bag down near the unclaimed bed. The floor creaked under her feet. Her heartbeat sounded too loud in her ears. She tried to tell herself this was good, that she’d finally left the ghosts of East Hall behind.
Maybe, tonight, she could actually sleep.
A faint sound made her turn.
The door beside the window opened, and a girl walked out. She was tall, slim, with pale blond hair that fell in waves to her shoulders. Her skin had that soft, cold tone of someone who didn’t spend much time in the sun. Her expression was unreadable, almost detached.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then the girl said flatly, “You’re Lila.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” Lila managed, forcing a small smile. “I guess we’re roommates.”
The girl nodded once. “Nora.” Her voice was low, quiet, and carried no warmth. She didn’t offer a handshake or even a smile. She just turned toward her desk, rearranging something small and metallic. The faint scrape of metal on wood filled the silence.
Lila shifted awkwardly. “I didn’t want to move in so suddenly,” she said softly. “I…uh..lost my old roommate.”
Nora’s hand paused for a second, then continued moving. “Yeah. Everyone knows.”
Lila blinked. “Oh.”
Nora finally looked up. Her eyes were a pale gray, almost colorless, and something in them made Lila’s stomach tighten not cruelty, but a kind of weariness that looked permanent.
“I’m not trying to be rude,” Nora said after a moment, “but just so we’re clear, that’s your side.” She pointed to Lila’s half of the room, her finger cutting through the air like a ruler. “Don’t move past the tape.”
Lila looked down at the strip on the floor, the thin blue line dividing them. “Got it.”
“Good.” Nora turned back to her desk, flipping the photo face-down again. The gesture was quick, almost protective.
Lila frowned. “I can stay out of your space,” she said quietly. “That’s fine. I just hope we can get along.”
“You seem nice,” Nora said, but it sounded more like a fact than a compliment. “But I don’t do the whole bonding thing. I like quietness. You keep your side; I’ll keep mine.”
Lila nodded, trying not to feel hurt. “Sure.”
Nora’s tone softened just a fraction. “It’s nothing personal. I just don’t want ghosts or killers following me here.”
Lila froze. “Excuse me?”
Nora glanced over her shoulder, her expression calm, almost bored. “You’ve been in the news, Lila. Everyone on campus has. Roses. Cameras. Your roommate.” She shrugged, adjusting her lamp. “Just don’t attract them here. That’s all I’m asking.”
Lila’s throat tightened. “I didn’t attract anything,” she said, a little sharper than she meant to. “I didn’t ask for any of that.”
Nora’s gaze lingered on her for a moment unreadable, heavy. Then she looked away again. “I’m sure you didn’t.”
The silence that followed was thick, uncomfortable. Lila busied herself unpacking, though her hands shook slightly. She placed her books on the small shelf, her notebooks stacked neatly beside them. The sound of drawers opening and closing filled the room with small, domestic noises that failed to soften the tension in the air.
From across the room, she could feel Nora’s presence like a quiet storm steady, but edged. She wanted to say something, to break the ice, but every word that came to mind felt wrong.
Finally, she whispered, “You don’t have to worry about me bringing trouble. I’m just trying to… start over.”
Nora didn’t turn around. “Good,” she said softly. “Then let’s keep it that way.”
Later that evening, Lila lay on her bed staring at the ceiling.
The overhead light flickered slightly every few seconds, a faint buzz filling the quiet. Nora sat at her desk with headphones in, typing something on her laptop. The steady rhythm of the keys was oddly soothing, a reminder that she wasn’t completely alone.
Still, Lila’s chest ached.She thought of Ruby the way she used to hum under her breath while brushing her hair, the way the room used to smell faintly of her perfume, like citrus and paper. Now there was only the sterile scent of detergent and Nora’s faint trace of mint shampoo.
Lila turned on her side, facing the window. The view outside was calm with soft yellow lights scattered across the courtyard, the sound of wind brushing through leaves. For a moment, she closed her eyes and tried to breathe.
New room. New start. No ghosts.
She whispered the words to herself like a prayer.
Nora spoke suddenly, startling her. “You always talk in your sleep?”
Lila blinked, turning toward her. “What?”
“You said something,” Nora said, eyes still on her laptop. “Sounded like a name.”
Lila’s mouth went dry. “Oh. I…I'm sorry.”
“I don’t care,” Nora replied simply. “Just asking.”
Lila studied her for a moment. There was something strange about her not mean, exactly, just cold, as if she’d built walls so high that warmth couldn’t reach through.
Still, a part of Lila wanted to understand her. Maybe they were both tired of the same thing, of loss, of noise, of the kind of fear that lived quietly inside you.
She shifted slightly on her bed. “Thanks for letting me move in.”
Nora didn’t look up. “Do you have a choice?” she asked. Then, softer, “But you’re welcome.”
Lila smiled faintly. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
By ten, the lights were off. The room sank into half-darkness, lit only by the thin strip of moonlight through the window. The blue tape dividing the floor gleamed faintly, a quiet reminder of distance.
Lila lay awake again, eyes open, tracing the shapes of shadows on the ceiling. She could hear Nora’s steady breathing from the other bed, slow, even, like the rhythm of someone who never dreamed.
Lila wished she could sleep like that without fear.And without remembering.
She rolled onto her back, whispering Ruby’s name once under her breath.
The sound barely filled the air, but she felt it echo somewhere deep.
Would Ruby have liked her new roommate? Would she have teased her for being quiet, tried to make her laugh?
She smiled sadly to herself. Ruby would have hated the silence.
Her thoughts drifted again to Asher, to how kind he’d been, to how strange it felt not to wake up afraid for once. She closed her eyes, her hand resting loosely on her blanket.
And then, she heard a soft sound.
A drawer sliding shut. Nora’s.
Lila turned slightly. Nora was sitting on the edge of her bed now, her face half-hidden by shadow, looking straight ahead not at Lila, not at anything specific, just into the dark.
Lila’s voice was a whisper. “Can’t sleep?”
Nora didn’t answer right away. Then, in that same even tone, she said, “I don’t like quiet rooms.”
Lila almost smiled. “Me neither.”
Nora didn’t reply. She just lay down again, turning her back.
The room went silent once more.
The clock ticked softly toward midnight.
Lila finally began to drift, her eyes heavy, her body sinking into the mattress. For the first time in a long while, sleep came without the weight of nightmares.
The hum of the radiator filled the space between breaths. The world outside was still.
Everything was still.
Until, she heard a faint tap against the window.
Lila’s eyes snapped open. She stared toward the sound, heart thudding fast. The curtains swayed slightly, the night pressing close against the glass. She held her breath, waiting, but the noise didn’t come again.
She let out a shaky exhale. Probably the wind, she told herself. Just the wind.
Slowly, she turned onto her side, facing the dark line of tape that split the room.
On the other side, Nora’s outline was motionless, her breathing steady.
Lila whispered, “Goodnight,” even though she knew Nora couldn’t hear her.
No answer came.