Two weeks later
The afternoon was quiet at the university. There were only a few students around—tired, hungry, or just trying to push through the final stretch of the semester.
As I was walking to the library, I ran into Anton.
"Hey, heard the news?" he said, taking a bite of the sandwich in his hand.
"About what?" I asked, though I already had an idea. Almost everyone in our department had been on edge since this morning.
"Axel and Samantha? They're gone. Officially withdrew. Transferring schools."
I stopped walking and looked at him.
"Are you sure?"
"Confirmed. The registrar assistant told my classmate's cousin. Sam hasn't been to school since that confrontation on date night. Axel was seen crying at the admin office yesterday." Anton shook his head, still in disbelief. "Crazy, right? They used to act so high and mighty. And now, poof. Gone."
I raised an eyebrow. "Gossip spreads faster than light on this campus. It's like everyone's mouth is a walking CCTV."
Anton laughed. "Honestly, I don't even know who the original source is anymore. But here's the kicker—apparently, they left a letter. For Aira."
I froze.
"From who?"
"Not sure. It was just handed over by the admin staff. One envelope. One letter. From both of them. Want to see it? She still has it."
---
Later that evening, at the boarding house
Aira sat quietly, holding the letter. It was sent through the guidance office—forwarded by the registrar staff. Apparently, Samantha had left it behind, and Axel signed it too.
I sat at the edge of the bed as she read.
She was silent as tears rolled down her cheeks. But they weren't heavy tears anymore. They felt like something long held back… finally being released.
"Do you want me to read it to you?" she asked softly.
I nodded.
She opened the envelope. One sheet of paper—white stationery, neat handwriting. Clearly, they had put thought into it.
---
Dear Aira,
We know we have no right to write to you. We don't even know if you'll read this. But we're not writing this to ask for forgiveness.
We're writing this to tell you how deeply we regret everything.
We have no excuse. Everything we did—planned, prolonged, laughed about—nothing can erase the pain we caused. And every time we remember your reaction that night during the "date," it feels like we're rotting inside.
Aira, we ganged up on you. For fun. For that illusion of control. But the truth? We were the ones who had no control over ourselves. Our insecurities, our envy, our pride.
We thought you were strong, that you could take it. We thought your tears weren't real. But that night… you made us realize just how low we had sunk.
We can't face you. So we chose to leave.
And there's something else we want to confess—about the day we almost hit Kiera with the car. We had no respect back then. We didn't stop. We didn't apologize. Instead, we blamed her, like we had nothing to do with it. We still carry the weight of being heartless and arrogant in that moment.
There's no excuse. We were wrong. And we know we don't deserve to face her… but if you can, Aira—please apologize to her for us. So she'll know that we're truly sorry. It may not be enough, but our remorse is genuine.
Please also thank her for us.
If it weren't for her, we wouldn't have woken up. We wouldn't have realized how deep the pain we caused really was. We wouldn't have seen that there are people willing to stand up for others—not just themselves.
We're not asking for your forgiveness. But we hope you understand how much we regret what we did. This isn't to make ourselves feel better—it's to let you hear, even just once, how much we hurt you… and how blind we were not to see it.
You were always stronger than the two of us.
We're sorry. And thank you, Aira.
Samantha & Axel
---
Aira sat quietly after reading.
"I don't know if I should be happy or angry," she said in a hushed voice.
"That's normal," I replied. "But at least now… it's really over."
She took a deep breath and placed the letter in her drawer.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."
I smiled. "I didn't do this to make you happy. I did it because I wanted to help you find your strength again. Because even I—learned something from all this."
We sat silently, gazing out the window. No yelling. No drama.
The battle was over.
And at last, we had won—not through pain… but through rising again.