27. Daphne

Chapter twenty-seven

Daphne

F or the last three days, a musty scent has lingered on my skin. It’s an unwelcome reminder of the life I’ve been neglecting, including showers, which I haven’t been doing because my heartbeat pulses louder in the suffocating silence of my room. Since Alex left me, or I left him—details seem so insignificant now—the world has reduced itself to this dimly lit box.

Consequently, classes are nothing but a blur, and shapes and sounds are something I glide through. It’s all motion without purpose. I’m there yet not present, a ghost haunting the halls of Whitmore University, with hazel eyes that see nothing beyond their own pain. When the final bell chimes, signaling the end of another day spent on autopilot, I retreat to this space where the shadows are familiar and the silence doesn’t expect polite lies.

“Alex called again.” Eden’s voice slices through the gloom as she enters, her auburn hair standing out against the darkness. “He’s worried about you. ”

I curl into myself even more, the bed sheets twisted around my legs. Despite this, it’s a cocoon that’s both a comfort and a prison. “I don’t want to talk to him,” I murmur, my voice sounding foreign to my ears, raspy from disuse.

“Three days, Daphne. Three days and no shower. It’s not like you. You need to eat something. Stand under the water. Let it wash away … this.” She gestures vaguely, encompassing the oppressive atmosphere of the room.

Given mother’s recent letter, going anywhere near water right now is not an option.

“No,” I whisper. My fingers trace the patterns on the quilt. The feeling is the only thing holding me together. The resolve in my voice crumbles. “I can’t, Eden. Not today.”

She sighs, a sound heavy with concern, and for a moment, I imagine the weight of my despair resting on her shoulders too. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. It’s not healthy.”

I scoff quietly at the word “health”, my lips playing a bitter smile. “Seems a bit trivial, doesn’t it? When every breath feels like drowning all over again?” How do you explain to someone that the mere act of living is the greatest challenge of all?

“Nothing about this is trivial, Daphne.” There’s steel in her tone now, a firmness that brooks no argument. “Get up. Shower. Eat. If not for Alex or me, do it for yourself .

“Eden.” Her name is a plea, a prayer for understanding. She can’t know, can’t comprehend the ocean I’m sinking in, the waves of memories pulling me under. Memories of Alex’s touch, the secret smiles we shared, the way he’d look at me like I was his anchor, and now I’m adrift in open water, anchorless and alone.

Mother was right. I’m poison, and I can’t be saved.

With a tremor in her voice that cracks the facade of strength, she says, “Please. I can’t watch you disappear into this darkness. I won’t.”

Her words are enough to make me want to move, to try, but my limbs betray me, heavy and unwilling. “Tomorrow,” I lie, a promise I’m not sure I can keep. “I’ll try tomorrow.”

“Dammit, Daphne.” The frustration is clear, but behind it, there’s love. Love that refuses to let me succumb to the night that beckons seductively from within. Eden may not understand the depths of my anguish, but she understands the language of the heart, the unspoken symphony of friendship that plays between us—a cello accompanying a harp in a melancholic duet.

Although she agrees reluctantly, I can hear the unspoken vow in her voice when she says, “Tomorrow.” She will return, and she will fight for me, tooth and nail, until I find the courage to fight for myself again.

Tomorrow comes too quickly.

“Despite the chill of the room, the numbness that has taken over my body and mind has made it a distant thought. That is until there’s a rush of cold air as Eden yanks the blankets off me. Before I can even curl into myself for warmth, her hands are on my ankles, pulling hard. My back hits the floor with a thud that rattles through me, and pain spikes at the base of my skull.

“Oh my God, are you okay? I’m so sorry.” Eden’s voice is high with panic, her green eyes wide as she hovers above me.

“Fine,” I mumble, despite the jarring sensation in every vertebra, my head throbbing in sync with my erratic heartbeat.

Suddenly, the door bangs against the wall, and Victoria stands there, lip plumper glossing her frown and dark hair framing her face like she’s the harbinger of some twisted news. “Jesus, what happened?”

“Accident,” Eden explains quickly, but Victoria’s brown eyes are locked on mine, reading the wreckage strewn across my features.

“You’re depressed too? Alex won’t get out of bed either.” There’s a note of accusation in Victoria’s tone as if my sorrow has somehow infected her brother, as if I’m the carrier of a heartache disease.

I press my palm against the back of my head, the dull ache a reminder that I am, despite everything, painfully alive. In a whispered admission that feels like betrayal, all I manage to say is, “Yeah.” Because it’s not just depression; it’s the crushing weight of love lost, the hollow space where hope used to live.

“Typical,” Victoria mutters under her breath, but her gaze doesn’t leave mine, searching for something I can’t give—an explanation, a solution, absolution. I can’t hold her stare, the intensity too much when I’m this broken, so I let my eyes close, shutting her and everything out.

She adds, almost to herself, “Should’ve figured.” I can sense the judgment, with the unspoken blame, that hangs heavy in the air between us. It’s easier to think I’m the cause of Alex’s pain than to admit that he’s got his own demons to fight—demons I’ve touched but never tamed.

Eden’s footsteps fade down the hallway, a soft retreat from the charged atmosphere of my room. My heart drums unevenly against my ribcage as Victoria stands sentinel by the door, her arms crossed tightly over her chest .

“Promise me you’ll look out for Alex,” I murmur without meeting her gaze. I trace the pattern on my comforter, lost in its intricacies—anything to avoid the scrutiny of Victoria’s stare.

“Why?” Her voice is flat, suspicious. “What aren’t you saying, Daphne?”

To answer her question, I shrug, a noncommittal gesture that does nothing to ease the tension coiling in the air. “Just worried, I guess. You know, depression blues seem to be going around campus.” It’s a feeble excuse and we both know it, but I can’t bring myself to explain.

“Depression blues, huh?” Victoria huffs, not buying it for a second, but before she can press further, Celeste’s voice, like nails on a chalkboard, pierces through the quiet.

“Alex is depressed because he hasn’t gotten back together with me yet,” Celeste announces from the doorway. She leans against the frame, all exaggerated curves and pouting lips, a vision of self-assured vanity. “I’ll just go see him and tell him I’ll take him back. That’ll cheer him up.”

The words sting, a venomous bite, and something breaks within me—a dam giving way to a flood of unwanted emotions. Though my face remains an impassive mask, it betrays none of the turmoil that thrashes inside .

“Then do that,” I say quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. “If that’s what makes him happy.” It’s all I ever wanted for him.

Celeste’s laughter trills through the room. “Oh, I will.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder, a cascade of false gold, and struts away with the confidence of someone who believes she holds all the cards.

“Victoria…” I start, but the plea dies in my throat. What am I asking for? Validation? A reprieve? I’m not even sure anymore.

She doesn’t wait for me to finish, already following in Celeste’s wake, leaving me alone with the echo of their departure and the bitter taste of helplessness.

Alone once again, I trace the cool rim of the glass Eden brought. Only, I don’t drink, just savor the sensation, feeling detached from the gesture.

Celeste’s parting words still resonate in the stale air of my room, mocking me. If she can coax a smile onto his face, if she can mend even a sliver of his heart, then good for them.

I know that I’ll survive this episode. I always do. Except I’m not just mourning my relationship

with Alex, but his friendship too. Obviously, I’m cutting him off completely because I can’t take Victoria and Celeste’s bullying anymore either. He won’t have to bear the burden of guilt for not loving me, nor because his girlfriend and sister hate me so much.

In my own way, that’s how I’ll love him from afar. I’ll keep the women in his life at bay by avoiding any and all interaction. Realistically, I know that I’ll have to change suites. I’d rather get a full-time job, get an apartment off campus despite my scholarship paying for room and board, than crack my aching heart a second later.

I’m giving both Alex and me mercy. In a way, Victoria and Celeste as well.

I’m left to the echo of my own erratic heartbeat, to the memories of Alex’s touch—a searing brand against my skin—haunting me with the ghost of what we were. His scent lingers in my sheets, a cruel reminder of the nights spent entwined, lost in each other, surrendering to desires as raw as open wounds.

I think what hurts the most is that Mom was right. He’ll never love me. No one will. Just how I couldn’t make my own mother love me, I can’t make the man I love either.

The emptiness of the room suffocates me, and I curl into myself, arms wrapped around my knees. I close my eyes, trying to shut out the world, but all I see is him, Alex, and the agony of his absence tears through me like a blade, leaving me bleeding out on the floor of this loveless cage I’ve built around myself.