Okay, so where do I even start? Maybe with the fact that my brain still feels like it's half swimming in saltwater and sunshine from the beach day we had, but also kinda drowning in the looming nightmare that is mock tests next week. Honestly, it's wild how one day you're laughing, eating way too much ice cream, and chasing seagulls, and the next, you're staring at a mountain of textbooks like they're about to swallow you whole.
I'm sitting cross-legged on Ethan's bedroom floor, my sketchbook balanced on my knees, pencil hovering but barely moving. I tried to capture the waves we watched yesterday—the way they curled and crashed like they had their own wild personalities. But the lines start shaking halfway through, because my hand's jittery, my mind racing, and the ocean I'm drawing feels more like a storm inside my head than anything peaceful.
Ethan's leaning against the doorframe, that calm, quiet way he has when he thinks I'm not noticing. I kind of am. "You really should get some sleep," he says softly, like it's advice but also a subtle challenge.
"I can't," I mumble, biting my lip. "There's so much to study… and I don't even know where to start."
He pushes off the doorframe, stepping inside. "Okay, how about a plan? Like, a real one. We make a study group. You, me, Amelia, and Jhonathan. We tackle this mess together."
I glance up at him, eyebrows raised. "A study group? Are you serious? Also, Jhonathan isn't even a student anymore?"
He shrugs but there's this spark in his eyes — the kind of hope that says maybe we don't have to do this alone. "Yeah. No more drowning solo."
Later that day, we all meet up at our dorm. It's cozy, messy in that lived-in way, with textbooks stacked on every surface and a faint smell of vanilla candles burning somewhere. The energy is lighter than I expected, considering the looming stress. Amelia is bouncing around, all bubbly and bright, while Jhonathan's this calm anchor, always there with a quiet smile or a reassuring nod. Even though he's already graduated and working as a psychologist, he's here because he cares—and honestly, having someone older and steady around makes everything feel less scary.
"So, who's ready to slay these mocks?" Amelia asks with a grin.
"Survive is more like it," Jhonathan says dryly, sliding on his glasses.
Ethan laughs, tossing a thick psychology textbook on the table. "Survive and thrive, man. Let's get this done."
I try to focus, but the anxiety bubbles under my skin. When I hit a snag on some theory, frustration floods in. "I don't get this," I admit, frustration clear in my voice.
Ethan leans over, explaining like only he can—calm, patient, and somehow making it feel less scary.
Amelia nudges Jhonathan playfully, and they exchange these glances, soft and knowing, like there's this quiet world between them I'm just starting to notice.
Hours pass in a blur of notes and laughter, but I feel it — the panic returning, tighter and sharper. My fingers tremble slightly, and Ethan notices immediately.
"You okay?" His voice is gentle, careful.
"Yeah, just tired," I say, forcing a smile that probably isn't convincing.
When my hands start shaking again, I swallow hard, trying to hold it together.
Ethan slides closer. "If you need a break, say so. No pressure."
Amelia's offering me tea, her eyes warm and encouraging. Jhonathan's steady presence feels like a rock. Together, they're a shield against the storm inside me.
Later, as we pack up,
my phone buzzed loudly against the table. Caller ID flashed Mom, and my chest tightened. I wasn't ready, but I had to answer.
"Hi, Mom," I said, voice calm but brittle underneath.
Ethan, Amelia and Jhonathan, pretended to do something and not hear a thing, but I knew they were listening.
Her tone was sharp, colder than usual. "Alexis, we've heard from your professor. The tests, the workshop, and this… Aditya situation. We expect better. We need you to focus. Your future is not something to gamble with."
I could feel her disappointment sharp as a knife. "I'm doing my best."
"You better be. We don't want any more surprises. We hope you won't disappoint us this time." Her words were heavy, loaded with unspoken threats and expectations that squeezed my heart. "Remember, the family's reputation is at stake. You're not a child anymore."
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. "I understand."
"Good. Make us proud." The line went dead before I could say anything else.
My hands trembled slightly, but I blinked the fear away. I wasn't alone here. Not with Ethan, Amelia, and Jhonathan around.
—
Later, I was at the doorway when I caught a glimpse of Noah in the hallway, talking with Amelia and Ethan. His face was half in shadow, lips moving as if in a serious conversation. I barely caught a glimpse, but something about the way Amelia's expression tightened made my skin crawl.
I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Ethan's eyes flicked between Noah and Amelia, wary and guarded. Amelia's usual easy smile was gone, replaced with something guarded and uneasy.
I turned away before I could eavesdrop more, but the tension lingered. Something was definitely off, and I had no idea what.
—
It was late. Like really late.
The kind of late where the candlelight felt warmer than the overhead bulbs ever could, where the textbooks were still scattered but everyone was too tired to pretend we cared anymore. Amelia had pulled her legs up onto the couch, head resting on Jhonathan's shoulder like she didn't even realize she was doing it. Jhonathan was still holding a pen but he hadn't written anything in the last twenty minutes. And Ethan… Ethan was across from me, long legs stretched out, one hand behind his head, looking way too calm for someone who had just helped me decode half the DSM-5.
We were surrounded by open books, empty mugs, and scribbled notes. The dorm smelled faintly of vanilla and burnt instant noodles. It was warm. It was safe.
Until my phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Then again.
It was sitting on the side table next to Ethan. I didn't even reach for it right away, too lost in trying to remember what Freud said about dream analysis.
Ethan picked it up without thinking, his brows furrowing slightly as the screen lit up. He stared at it for a beat too long, the light catching in his eyes, something unreadable flickering across his face before he stood and crossed the room to hand it to me.
"Your phone," he said simply, voice unreadable.
I grabbed it, thumbs swiping the screen automatically.
Three messages. From Aditya.
Did your mom call you too?
She sounded... weird this time. Said she'd "talk to you soon" and that she's already "planning ahead."
Alexis, what's going on? She's talking like we're— I don't even know.
My stomach dipped.
I stared at the screen for a second too long, not even blinking.
What was she doing? She'd just told me to "focus on my future." And now she's calling Aditya behind my back? Planning ahead for what, exactly?
There were more messages. I scrolled.
She mentioned some distant uncle and how the families are expecting something this year. I didn't know what to say. I didn't agree to anything, just so you know.
My skin prickled. My fingers tightened around the phone. The blood in my ears roared louder than the quiet hum of the dorm.
I suddenly felt seen in the worst possible way. Like someone had started arranging the pieces of my life without asking if I wanted to play.
I was so deep in the texts, I didn't see Ethan watching me from across the room. His expression unreadable, but his eyes weren't leaving me.
He had definitely seen the name. Maybe even the first line of the message. But he didn't say a word.
Instead, he turned back to where Jhonathan and Amelia were chatting softly about some random clinical study, like nothing had shifted.
I wanted to throw my phone across the room.
But I just locked it.
Tossed it into the pile of textbooks like it didn't burn my hands to hold it.
I tried to act normal. Like I wasn't seconds away from spiraling. I pulled my hoodie sleeves over my palms and leaned forward, flipping a page in the textbook I wasn't even reading anymore.
Amelia glanced at me but didn't say anything. She knew better. Or maybe she just felt it. That off-kilter tension buzzing in the space between my ribs.
Jhonathan shifted slightly, his hand brushing against Amelia's knee as he leaned to grab a notebook. She smiled, soft and tired, and tucked her hair behind her ear.
Ethan didn't look at me again. But he also didn't leave. He just stayed sitting there, quiet and still, like he was waiting.
Waiting to see if I'd talk.
Waiting to see if I'd break.
But I didn't.
Not yet.
___
It was too late at night to leave.
Jhonathan had offered to stay back and help us sort out the last few things. His jacket was slung over the back of Amelia's chair, and he looked like he'd done this a hundred times before — just blending into our chaos with this quiet steadiness that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, we weren't falling apart.
Eventually, it was Amelia who suggested it, saying, "You can just crash here, right? I mean, the floor's not gonna kill you." She tried to sound casual about it, but the way her voice dipped at the end gave it away. He just smiled and nodded like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He ended up on the floor of Amelia's room, a spare comforter and some couch cushions thrown together like it was a sleepover. Ethan had already passed out on the living room floor with an open book covering half his face. His hand twitched every now and then like he was still mid-debate in his dreams. The soft, steady rise and fall of his chest was the only sound in the room besides the faint humming of the fridge.
And I was still sitting there.
Alone. Cross-legged on the sofa with my books sprawled around me like they were an army that had lost the war. My highlighters were uncapped. My notebook had half a page of neat writing and then a wild, desperate scribble that bled off the lines. I'd stared at the same paragraph of the social learning theory for the past fifteen minutes, pretending that if I focused hard enough, the words would stop blurring and make sense.
But they didn't.
They just sat there. Still. Unmoving. Just like everything else around me.
It was in this exact kind of stillness that everything always hit the hardest. Like the world waited until everyone else was asleep to pour it all over me. There was something about 2:00 AM that made all the distractions disappear, like the day stripped itself clean, no masks, no noise, no bright lights to hide behind. And in that quiet, I could see everything I had been trying so hard to ignore.
The call from Mom — her voice still echoing in the back of my head. The sharp edges of her words: We hope you won't disappoint us this time. I could still feel the coldness of it, like she'd handed me a block of ice and asked me to hold it without flinching.
Then there were the tests. The stupid, looming mock tests that felt more like a ticking time bomb than an academic challenge. My brain was already fried and we hadn't even started.
Aditya's text. That weird but looming threat? From my mom to him, the weird warning sign she gave to him.
Then there was Noah.
Noah, who I saw earlier talking to Ethan and Amelia, his face serious and calm like he belonged in that moment. I'd only caught a glimpse before I turned away, but it was enough to lodge itself in my head. Enough to make me wonder what he was doing there, what he was saying to them. And why neither of them had brought it up to me.
Which brought me right back to Ethan.
Ethan, who was sleeping on the floor like it was no big deal. Ethan, who saw things I never said out loud. Ethan, who was always there — who made everything feel like maybe I could actually survive it. And yet I couldn't tell him everything either.
I was scared.
I was scared that if I spoke it all into existence — if I said out loud that I felt like I was crumbling — it would become real. Permanent. A truth too big to tuck away.
And then… there was me.
Just me. Sitting in the middle of this quiet chaos, the last one awake, the last one holding it all in. My hands were resting on my books, but I wasn't reading anymore. I was just… staring. Hoping they'd disappear. Hoping the weight pressing down on my chest would just lift, even for a second.
Because I didn't know how to hold all of it anymore.
How was I supposed to juggle the pressure of my parents' expectations, the growing distance between who I was and who they wanted me to be, these feelings I wasn't ready to name for someone who made me feel too much, too fast — all while pretending that I had it together in front of everyone else?
I could feel the tears prickling, but I didn't let them fall.
I just sat there.
Wrapped in the quiet of the night, surrounded by people who cared about me and yet still feeling like I was floating miles above them — like I was watching the world through a pane of glass I couldn't break.
How was I going to handle all of this?
I didn't know.
But for now… I just let myself breathe.