In the heart of Harvard, Alessia Gilmore is ready to embrace her second year and the independence it brings. After a summer spent reconnecting with friends and discovering herself, she's determined to step out of her twin sister Rory's shadow and ca...
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Harvard moved around Alessia like a film set — voices echoing, people laughing, shoes clicking down halls — all of it muffled, like she was hearing it underwater.
She hadn't slept.
Not really. She'd laid in bed staring at the ceiling for most of the night, headphones in, volume up, eyes open. Her alarm went off at 7:00 a.m., but she was already dressed and sitting on the edge of her bed when it buzzed.
Her body moved on autopilot. Coffee. Backpack. Class.
But her face — god, she could feel it — looked exactly how she felt. Wrecked.
She barely made it through her film theory lecture without dissolving. Her professor's voice was a monotone drone, the fluorescent lights above flickering with a quiet, ceaseless hum. She blinked too long. Bit her tongue too hard. Clenched her fists in her lap so no one would see them shake.
When the class finally ended, Alessia started packing up slowly, hoping to disappear before anyone noticed she'd barely spoken, barely existed.
But as she turned to leave, her professor called out gently, "Alessia?"
She froze. Looked over.
Professor Langston was standing by the desk, eyes soft behind her glasses. "Could I talk to you for a moment?"
Alessia hesitated, then walked over, arms still tight around her books like a shield.
Langston glanced around the emptying lecture hall, then lowered her voice. "Are you okay?"
Alessia opened her mouth — the lie already halfway formed — but she couldn't get her face to cooperate. No smile. Not even a twitch of one.
"Yeah," she said, barely above a whisper. "I'm alright."
It was automatic. The kind of reply you give without thinking, because you don't want to talk about it. But the words sounded hollow in her own ears, and Langston clearly didn't buy it either.
The professor didn't press. She just nodded, gently, with a kind of knowing weight. "If you need time, or space — just let me know, okay?"
Alessia nodded once. She couldn't even say thank you. Her throat felt tight.
She turned and walked out quickly, her face hot with a shame she couldn't quite place.
Someone called her name — maybe a classmate, maybe one of Riley's friends — but she didn't turn. Couldn't. If she did, the tears stinging behind her eyes might actually fall. And then she wouldn't be able to stop.
She skipped her next class entirely. Found an empty bench behind the library, away from foot traffic, and just sat there. Hoodie up. Hands in her sleeves. Face blank.
People passed by. No one noticed her. Or if they did, they didn't stop. She didn't blame them.
She was sharp-tongued, sarcastic, cool. She didn't do vulnerable. Not publicly.
So she stayed quiet. Just breathing through the lump in her throat, trying to pretend like she wasn't coming apart at the seams.
Later that afternoon, she sat through another lecture, eyes unfocused, pretending to take notes. She wasn't even sure what the subject was. Her pen tapped nonsense in the margins of her notebook — circles, slashes, an accidental tear through the page.
When the professor dismissed them, Alessia didn't move.
She sat there as the room emptied, finally resting her forehead against the cool surface of the desk. Just for a second. Just to stop holding herself together.
But the second passed, and she stood up.
She walked out into the dull gray of the overcast evening, hands still shoved into her sleeves. Everything felt heavy. Her limbs. Her lungs. Her name, if anyone said it.
She didn't respond to texts. Not even Riley's. Not even Logan's. Not even Beau's.
The dinner was tomorrow night, and she already felt like she was walking into a trap she'd set for herself. A room full of people who'd smile too wide and drink too much champagne and look at her like she was an outsider pretending to belong.
And Logan...
She didn't even know what they were.
She didn't know who she was when she was with him.
That thought stung more than she wanted to admit.
Alessia climbed the stairs to her dorm slowly, her vision blurred from exhaustion. She didn't cry. Not once. That would've required letting the feelings out. And she was far too practiced in bottling them up.
She unlocked her door. Let it shut behind her.
Dropped her bag.
And then she crawled into bed, fully dressed, shoes and all, and stared at the ceiling.
Silent. Still. Tired in a way that no amount of sleep could fix.
—————————— AN: wrote this chapter based off how i felt today🥰
