The sun had risen with the sort of beauty that made poets write odes and painters capture light. Its rays fell gracefully across Hannah’s floor, casting warm stripes on her tiles and sliding slowly up the cream walls. The lilies on her window sill drank in the gold, blooming slightly wider as if whispering gratitude for the morning. But none of that beauty touched Hannah.
She sat on her bed, arms curled around her knees, her face hidden in the fold of her oversized T-shirt, the same one she always wore when comfort was still on. She sat there frozen in time, staring at the phone in her hand that ended her world. The night had stolen more than sleep. It had taken her breath. And the morning had come with no mercy.
She blinked, eyes adjusting to the brightness spilling through the sheer curtains. The world outside was oblivious. It was Saturday, a day promised with laughter, brunches, and relaxation. But in her room, there was only silence and the lingering smell of lavender from the nightstand diffuser she had forgotten to turn off. She reached for the lamp and turned it off. Her body felt foreign, like it had betrayed her by continuing to function while her soul felt like it had bled out.
Her phone buzzed with a message from Clare.
“Hey girl, how are you doing? I am getting ready hope you are too? Bus leaves by 10.00am.”
Hannah saw the message, all she could do was recall the conversations she had with Clare the previous night
"Don't pick a place we can't afford and end up embarrassing ourselves," Hannah said, her voice muffled by the pillow she was half buried in.
Clare’s laughter echoed through the speaker. “Well, we’re going to help them clean their dishes and mop the floor afterwards anyway, so they better let us in free!”
They both burst into loud laughter.
“I’m not even joking, Clare,” Hannah said, still laughing. “We can't just show up somewhere that charges ridiculous gate fees like what are we...rich?”
“Nope,” Clare replied. “We’ll keep it simple. A picnic at Eden Gardens. No entrance fee, no fuss, and plenty of trees for the ‘aesthetic.’ You know, for the photos we’ll never post.”
“That’s better. But we’re leaving early. I am not sitting under the sun waiting for you,” Hannah said.
“10 a.m. bus, right?” Clare confirmed.
“Yes. And please don’t be late Clare, don’t spend a hundred hours dressing up like you’re about to walk the Met Gala carpet.”
Clare gasped dramatically. “How could you say that?! I have to look good for the cameras, darling. Besides, you never know when I might meet my future husband. Never to be caught not fresh, dear.”
Hannah rolled her eyes playfully, even though Clare couldn’t see it. “Choose any outfit. You don’t have to be perfect.”
“Says who? This might be the day I appear in someone’s destiny dream.”
Hannah laughed again, the sound bubbling. “Okay, Miss Future Wife.”
“Speaking of husbands to be…” Clare stretched her words, teasing. “How is Levvviii?”
There was silence. Just a second too long to be casual.
Clare waited.
“He’s been... distant,” Hannah finally said, voice low.
Clare’s voice softened. “Oh, Han.”
“I don’t know what’s going on,” she admitted. “He doesn’t reply like before. When we talk, it feels... thin. Like we’re both trying, but nothing’s really there.”
Clare sighed. “Maybe he’s stressed too. Or scared. Boys act weird when they’re catching real feelings.”
“Or when they’re losing them,” Hannah murmured.
There was another pause, and then Clare quickly changed the subject, her tone lifting with artificial cheer. “Enough about moody men. Let’s talk about you. Are you through with your project writing?”
“What project?” Clare asked innocently.
Hannah sat up. “Clare Montgomery!”
Clare burst into laughter. “Girlll, I’m tired, okay?! Like, mentally, emotionally, academically tired.”
“You’re going to fail,” Hannah said with mock sternness.
“I know, right?” Clare giggled. “I might just sleep through the defence and wake up unemployed.”
“Haha You’ll be fine.”
“Hopefully. But anyway, enough about school. How are we planning our picnic?”
They drifted back into ideas, light hearted chatter filling the space.
“We’ll bring rice, chicken, doughnuts, and those chicken pies from Day Bake,” Clare listed.
“I love how you’re skipping fruit like it’s not essential.”
“Girl, please. This is a picnic, not a hospital diet. I’m coming to enjoy myself.”
“Alright. Don’t oversleep. I will text you when I wake up” Clare warned.
“I won’t. Don’t overdress,” Hannah teased back.
“Bye, lover girl.”
“Bye, Miss Future Wife.
Her phone buzzed beside her and brought her back to reality. A moment of irrational hope flickered in her chest. Maybe it was all a mistake. Just maybe.
She picked up the phone and answered the call without thinking.
The voice on the other end was calm. Familiar.
“Hannah… I just heard. I am so, so sorry. I can’t believe it. My heart breaks for you.”
She didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. The words pierced through her like needles.
“You don’t have to talk. Just breathe, okay? Just… breathe. I’m here, and you’re not alone.”
Her lips trembled.
“It’s okay to fall apart,” the voice said again, lower now. “No one expects you to be okay. Just… take it one breath at a time.”
She listened to the voice from the other end and it was over the silence returned, louder than ever. Her breath caught in her throat.
She stared at the framed quote on the wall that read “You are stronger than your fears.” What a joke.
A sob clawed its way up her throat, but she bit it back. She walked into the bathroom and splashed water on her face. Stared at her reflection. Red eyes. Pale skin. Cracked lips.
Time began to move strangely after that. Minutes stretched into hours, but nothing changed inside her. The pain didn't lessen. The confusion didn’t settle. She stared at the ceiling fan, spinning lazily, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. As if the world hadn’t cracked open and swallowed her whole.
Her phone buzzed again. She picked it up with trembling hands and pressed it to her ear, not even checking the name.
“Hello?” she whispered, her voice shaky.
“Hey babe, how are you? I hope you are ready the bus leaves by 10.”
“Han? Babe, are you there? what’s wrong?” Clare’s voice was soft but alert.
“Nothing… I’m fine.” Her voice cracked on the last word.
A pause.
“No, you're not. You don’t sound fine at all. Did something happen?”
Hannah was quiet. Swallowed.
“Clare, I… I can’t talk right now.”
“Don’t do that,” Clare said gently, but firmly. “Talk to me. You do not sound okay, talk to me girl.”
She could hear Clare shifting, maybe already reaching for her bag.
“Han, if you don’t say anything in the next ten seconds, I’m coming over.”
Silence.
“Alright. That’s it. I’m coming.”
Before Hannah could protest, Clare had already hung up. The phone remained pressed to her ear long after the call ended.
At some point, she moved to the floor, sitting cross-legged with her head against the edge of the bed. Her grief had finally broken through.
Her body shook with sobs she had fought too hard to suppress. Her shoulders trembled. Her breath hitched. And still, she made no sound. Not a single one. The room was filled with light, but inside her was nothing but darkness.
She cried until her chest ached and her throat burned, until her heart bled out with pain and her soul felt wrung out. She cried until there were no more tears left. Then, like a machine that had exhausted its fuel, she went still.
A message popped up on her phone from Clare:
“I’m on my way. 15 mins tops. Don’t lock your door.”
Hannah didn’t respond. She couldn’t respond.
The silence returned, heavier now, thicker. But in that silence, something else came. The realization that this was not a moment. It was a beginning. Of what, she didn’t know yet. All she knew was that something in her had cracked last night. And now, she had to figure out how to live with it, knowing that no one prepared her for grief. No one.
Her mind kept replaying another voice, the one from last night.
“Don’t baby me, Han. Life’s already soft on you. I’ll take my dose raw, thanks.”
And now…Gone.