LESSONS IN SHADOWS (GL)

The evening breeze crept softly through the dorm windows, brushing along the curtains like the a whisper. Cynthia lay curled on her side, face turned toward the wall, the pressure in her stomach pulsing low and stubborn. 

She had not spoken much all day. Neither had Jennifer.

Jennifer sat near the edge of her bed, head down, eyes unmoving on a textbook she clearly wasn't reading. Since returning from the staffroom, she'd been quiet-too quiet. Like something had been locked behind her silence.

Cynthia sat up slowly, legs heavy beneath the blanket. The usual comforts were missing-no warm flask beside her bed, no chocolate hidden under the pillow, no note taped to her locker. Angela had always remembered. This time, nothing.

And that absence...it echoed.

She pulled on her sweater and padded softly out of the room, one hand still pressed to her side.

...

The corridor was quiet. She stepped out onto the open balcony at the far end of the dorm block. The evening sun had dipped low, setting the skies in hues of lavender and peach.

Across the garden, near the trimmed green hedge-Angela sat with Christine.

They were laughing.

Christine leaned towards her, grinning. Angela threw her head beck, eyes squinting in delight, her laughter soft but clear enough to carry across the distance.

Cynthia stilled.

She watched them-her hand still resting over her stomach-and felt something tighten inside. It wasn't anger. It was...unfamiliar.

Angela hadn't laughed like that with her in a long time.

She blinked.

Angela had always remembered this week-the chocolate biscuits, the warm tea sachets, the packet of painkillers she'd quietly slipped into her desk drawer. Even the spare pads folded neatly in a paper pouch tucked inside her locker.

And not just this term.

...

Flashback

Junior school class six-their second term. 

Cynthia had cried that day. The stain on her uniform, the whispers behind her, the shame pressing into her chest.

Angela hadn't said a word. She just tied her own sweater around Cynthia waist, held her hand quietly, and sat beside her through the whole break. Later, a folded packet appeared in her desk drawer. Pads, a small piece of chocolate, and a note: "I asked the nurse for you. it's normal."

Since then, Angela had never forgotten.

...

Present

Cynthia looked down at her empty hands. No biscuits. No thermos. No note. Not even a glance from the garden.

She wasn't angry.

But something had shifted-gently, quietly-and she didn't know how to name it.

She stepped back inside.

...

Angela clicked the dorm door open. stepping inside quietly with a small carrying bag in one hand.

Cynthia lay curled on her side on the lower bunk, her face half-buried in her pillows. The room was still, filled with the soft hum of evening settling in.

Angela didn't speak at first. She walked over to the small wooden stand beside Cynthia's bed and gently placed the items from the bag down-a box of warm biscuits wrapped in tissue, a simple mini cake in clear wrapping, and folded set of clean panties with a faint scent of strawberry soap.

"Here," she said softly, brushing imaginary dust off the mini cake as she set it upright.

"This is for you my girl."

Cynthia didn't lift her head immediately. She just stared ahead, expression unreadable.

"You're late," she finally muttered, voice low.

Angela smiled faintly, crouching down to her level. "I know," she replied. "But I didn't forget."

A quiet breath passed between them before Angela turned slightly, catching a glimpse of the other bed.

Jennifer was seated at the far end of the room, her back straight, a physics book spread open across her lap. But she hadn't turned a page in minutes.

"Hey, Jen," Angela offered, soft and casual.

No answer.

Jennifer didn't even blink. Her eyes were fixed on the book, but the tension in her shoulders gave her way. She wasn't reading. Her mind was elsewhere-far, far away.

Angela didn't push.

She simply glanced at Cynthia once more, then settled on the edge of the lower bunk and unwrapped the biscuits, their sugary scent rising into the room.

...

The words on the page never settled. Her eyes passed over them again and again, but they didn't stay.

She could still the brush of Maria of Maria's shoulder against hers-the quiet clink of that coffee cup nearly tipping.

Coffee.

Not in the dining area. Not in a tray. Maria was taking coffee to Miss Emily.

As if it were her job. As if she had the right.

That's for the cook to do, Jennifer thought. Not her. Not a student.

She blinked slowly, heat pressing behind her eyes.

Since when did Maria start taking coffee to her?

How long have they even known each other like that?

Her mind searched for any sigh. Any whisper of warning.

Nothing.

And then those trending pictures-the ones of her and Kevin. Jennifer had watched Miss Emily carefully, waited for some flicker of jealousy, a question, even just the usual coldness.

But nothing.

No reaction.

Just a distant, polite glance.

Professional.

As if she felt nothing at all.

Jennifer swallowed. Her chest hurt, but not the kind she could touch.

But lately-

No.

No more eyes that lingered. No more tension.

No more anything.

Just plainness. Distance.

Like Jennifer was just another student now.

Another name in the register.

And Maria...she said Emily.

Not Miss Emily. Just Emily. Like they were close. Like they were allowed.

And Miss Emily Didn't even correct her.

Jennifer's stomach tightened.

"So it wasn't special."

That first night-

She stopped herself. Again.

She wasn't going to think about that.

But now it felt like all of it was just...fluttering. Empty gestures.

Maybe Miss Emily had been playing with both of them.

Maybe Maria wasn't just part of it.

Maybe she was the one.

Jennifer turned another page. Her eyes didn't read a word.

Her phone buzzed.

Jennifer slipped it out beneath the sheets without thinking. The light was soft, and the massage was already open.

Clara:

Hey, I bought everything-all the stuff you asked.

And you didn't tell me what Miss Emily needs. I told you to ask her, remember?

Anyway, see you tomorrow. I feel good.

Good for the trip.

Can't wait to hang out with you, my little sister. Bye. ❤️

A small warmth stirred in her chest.

Clara's voice in her head-always fast, always kind.

Jennifer smiled, a real one, but faint.

Then her eyes returned to the middle line.

"You didn't tell me what Miss Emily needs."

It stayed there, quiet.

She hadn't told Clara because she couldn't even ask. Not anymore. Miss Emily barely looked at her now. Not like before.

Clara's message didn't make her cry.

But it made her bleed.

Softly. Without sound. The kind that happens under the skin.

The door clicked open, and a few girls came in, laughing softly as they kicked off their shoes. One of them turned to Cynthia with a little grin.

"Cynthia, I heard St. Peter's and St. Andrew's are coming."

She dropped her bag on the floor. "The ones who were interested-they're free to join us. They're coming for the thing."

Cynthia perked up from her bed.

"Oh, I hope Brian will come too," she said, almost dreamily.

"I can't wait... to walk with him, sit close, joke a little..."

She let the sentence trail off, smiling to herself.

The other girl laughed, loud enough to draw attention. 

Eeeeh, look at you! Just don't freeze again like last time."

Then she looked across the room, eyes landing on Jennifer.

"And you-Jennifer and Kevin, huh?"

She raised her brows playfully.

"You two are like, what-the school's super favorite couple?"

A couple more girls giggled, one even nodding.

"For real. Even the teachers know it already."

The laughter around her faded slowly, but the words lingered.

"You two are like...the school's super favorite couple."

Jennifer kept her eyes on her book, but her grip on the page had stilled.

Kevin.

Of course they'd say that.

He was liked-fan-based, even. a lot of girls talked about him. Friendly, calm, easy to be around. It made sense.

And her?

She had walked next to him several. Sat near him. Their names paired together in conversations she never started.

She let the word "couple" float through her mind.

She didn't fight it.

Didn't hold it either.

Maybe the only reason she thought so much about Miss Emily...was because she'd never tried anything else.

Anything normal. Anything right.

Maybe she didn't even like women.

Maybe she just-

No.

She blinked.

Something inside her didn't agree. But something else stayed quiet.