Maya sat on the edge of her dorm bed, knees pulled close to her chest, the hum of the air conditioning above her the only sound in the hollow room. A single bag rested beside her feet -- her entire life packed into a duffel that once carried books, now holding pieces of herself. Tessa had left yesterday. No goodbyes, just a rushed farewell and a look that said you'll figure it out. Everyone else had gone. The dorms were nearly deserted, emptied out for the long summer break.
She knew since yesterday that she had nowhere to go.
But it wasn't until today, when she'd spent hours online, scrolling through booking apps and visiting nearby lodges on foot, that the weight of her reality settled on her chest like an anvil. Every room was either fully booked or criminally expensive. Even the dingy motels she'd passed while walking around downtown had rates she couldn't afford. The one she liked the most had floral curtains and a cozy front porch, but the price had her swallowing hard and turning away.
She'd tried not to panic. Tried to be rational. Told herself she had time. But as the sun dipped and the golden light of late afternoon seeped into her half-packed room, the panic refused to stay down. It rose like bile.
Her phone buzzed.
She picked it up with a flutter in her chest, hoping for something --anything -- helpful.
Mom.
The screen lit with her name, and Maya stared at it like it belonged to someone else. Her first instinct was to ignore it. The urge was almost physical. But she knew if she didn't pick up, there'd be voicemails. There'd be questions. There'd be consequences.
She answered on the third ring, bringing the phone to her ear with a slow breath. "Hello?"
Her mother's voice came through immediately, clipped and familiar. "You're done with exams, right?"
Maya leaned back against the wall, fingers gripping the edge of the mattress. "Yeah."
"Then come home. Your brothers are all here. I've been asking about your plans."
Maya blinked, a dull ache forming at the back of her head. Of course she didn't know. She never did. Not really.
"I can't," Maya said quietly.
There was a pause. "What do you mean you can't?"
"I registered for summer classes."
It came out smooth, practiced. The lie slipped off her tongue with the same precision she used to navigate conversations with her mother all her life.
"Why?" her mom asked, clearly irritated. "You never mentioned it."
"I didn't think I had to."
"You don't even like staying on campus. Why would you do that to yourself?"
Maya didn't reply. What was she supposed to say? Because you don't really know me anymore? Because the thought of being back home feels like suffocation in disguise? Because I don't belong there, not even in my own room?
Her mom sighed on the other end. "Fine. If that's what you want. But don't come crying when it gets lonely up there."
The call ended without a goodbye.
Maya stared at the phone until the screen faded to black. Her hand dropped to her lap, fingers curling slightly, thumb still resting on the side like she might call someone else. But there was no one else.
Except---
Her eyes flicked to the last unread text thread.
Damien.
The conversation from yesterday replayed in her mind. After the chaos at school, the whispers, the stares… after everything fell apart, he had said it in passing, like it meant nothing.
"How about you come stay with me?"
Just like that. No pressure. No follow-up. As if he didn't care either way.
But now? That careless offer clung to her ribs like a lifeline.
Her fingers hovered over her screen.
Maya:Is the offer still open?
Her heart thumped hard in her chest, a fluttery ache forming beneath her ribcage.
She stared at the message, considered deleting it. It was just a question. He could say no. Or worse -- laugh at her for taking him seriously.
But the message was already sent.
Seconds passed. Then a minute. Then another.
She stood up, paced the room.
Then her phone buzzed again.
Damien:Always was. I'm pulling up. Be outside in ten.
Just like that.
No fuss. No explanation. No questions.
Her chest tightened. She didn't know whether to be relieved or afraid. Maybe both.
She moved quickly, zipping up her bag, grabbing her charger, her hoodie, her toothbrush -- the things that made her feel like a person. She glanced around the dorm one last time. It looked foreign now. As though she'd never belonged here either.
She slung her duffel over one shoulder and slipped out the door, letting it close behind her with a soft click.
The hallway echoed with her footsteps. No voices. No music. No slamming doors. Just her and the empty quiet.
By the time she stepped outside, the sky had turned a dusky orange. Warm wind brushed against her skin, carrying the scent of summer -- grass, gasoline, faint cigarette smoke from the far end of the street.
She stood near the curb, eyes scanning the lot, nerves gnawing at her.
Then she saw it.
A sleek, black car glided into view. It was nothing like the one she'd entered before. That had been nice, sure -- clean, expensive-looking. But this…
This was something else.
The paint shimmered like obsidian under the fading sunlight. The windows were tinted darker than night, the body long and curved, low to the ground like something out of a luxury magazine. It didn't roar -- it purred.
It stopped in front of her.
The door unlocked with a soft mechanical click, and she moved toward it slowly, heartbeat rattling in her ears.
No words.
She opened the door, slid inside.
The interior smelled like leather and cedar. Cool air brushed her cheek. The seat molded around her like a cocoon.
She shut the door.
Silence wrapped around her like a second skin.
She looked forward, her face unreadable.
Damien said nothing.
And neither did she.
Because sometimes, the loudest moments are the ones where nothing is spoken at all.