Tw: Mentions death

The morning was cruel in its coldness, the kind of chill that crawls beneath your skin and makes the air feel like it’s made of ice. Professor Abigale stood near the doorway of the lecture hall, her eyes distant, her heart heavy with the weight of what she knew she had to say. The room emptied slowly, students filing out with little care for the winter biting at their cheeks. She watched them go, her gaze lingering on one student—*him.* He was almost out, nearly beyond reach, when she softly called his name.

He stopped. Something in her voice made him hesitate. He turned to face her, confusion flickering in his eyes. But there was something else in her expression that made his breath catch—something fragile, broken.

“Could you come here, please?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but enough to cut through the distance between them.

He took a few slow steps toward her, his heart beginning to pound in his chest. “Is something wrong?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. He could see it written all over her face.

She looked down for a moment, as if gathering her courage, her hands shaking slightly. She took in a breath, but the words didn’t come easily. How could they? What she was about to say would shatter his world.

“During the lecture this morning,” she began softly, her voice trembling, “I got a call from your mother.”

His heart skipped a beat, then another. His blood turned to ice, and he stood frozen, his mind racing to piece together the puzzle, though part of him already knew. He swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he felt the room closing in around him.

“She… uhm…” Abigale’s voice cracked, the pain in her words unmistakable now. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she couldn’t let herself fall apart. Not yet.

“She what?” he asked, his voice fragile, almost pleading. His breath came faster, his chest tightening as the realization began to sink in. He could feel the truth lurking just beyond her hesitation, and it terrified him. His father. It had to be about his father—the man who had been missing for days, the man who had vanished without a trace.

“Your father…” she began, her words so slow, so heavy. “He was… found.”

There was a brief silence, a moment where everything stood still. And then, all at once, the world collapsed.

“Oh God,” he gasped, his voice breaking as the panic clawed its way up his throat. “He’s dead?”

Abigale nodded, her own heart breaking as the truth shattered the last of his composure.

“No… please…” His voice trembled, his legs giving way beneath him as he collapsed onto the cold, unforgiving floor. The pain hit him like a wave, drowning him, and before he could stop it, a scream tore from his chest—a raw, primal sound of agony, a sound that ripped through the quiet of the hall and echoed off the walls like a howl of a wounded animal.

His body shook with violent sobs, each one more painful than the last. He gasped for air, his breath coming in jagged bursts, his chest heaving as the grief ripped through him, relentless and merciless. It was like his entire being was unraveling, torn apart by the unbearable truth. His father was dead, and nothing—*nothing*—would ever be the same again.

Abigale dropped to her knees beside him, her arms wrapping around him instinctively. She pulled him close, pressing his trembling body against her chest, holding him as if she could somehow protect him from the storm of grief that had swallowed him whole. He pressed his face into her shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably, his hands clutching at her as though she were the only thing anchoring him to this world, the only thing keeping him from slipping away into the endless void of his sorrow.

At first, he resisted her touch, his body stiff with shock and disbelief. But then the pain became too much, too heavy to carry alone, and he gave in, clinging to her like a drowning man reaching for anything that might keep him afloat. His sobs grew louder, more desperate, until they became deep, gasping cries that shook his entire body. Each one felt like it might tear him apart.

The tears streamed down his face in a flood, soaking through her blouse, his chest heaving as the pain poured out of him in waves. His breath hitched between sobs, his lips trembling as he gasped for air, trying and failing to steady himself. His heart felt like it was being crushed inside his chest, and he could feel it—this gaping, endless loss—ripping him open from the inside.

Abigale said nothing, her own eyes stinging with tears as she held him tighter, feeling every shudder of his body as if it were her own. She let him sob, let him collapse in her arms, knowing there was no comfort she could offer, no words that could mend what had been broken. She was only there, bearing witness to his grief, holding him together as best she could while he unraveled.

His sobs came faster now, ragged and raw, echoing in the empty hall, filling the silence with his sorrow. It was a sound so painful, so full of loss, that it felt as if the world itself might break under the weight of it. His tears were hot against her skin, his face flushed with anguish, his body trembling uncontrollably as the grief took him under again and again, like a wave that wouldn’t let him surface.

Time lost all meaning as they stayed there, on the cold floor of the empty lecture hall, surrounded by the unbearable weight of what had been said. The morning light that filtered through the windows seemed cruel, indifferent to the pain that filled the room. The world outside kept turning, kept moving, while inside, his world had stopped.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his sobs began to slow, his body too exhausted to continue. His breathing was ragged, broken, but the tears had stopped falling. He lay there, limp and hollow, the weight of his grief still pressing down on him, but quieter now, more distant.

Abigale didn’t release him. She stayed, her arms still around him, her hand gently stroking his hair, offering what little comfort she could. She knew this pain wouldn’t leave him, not today, not ever. It would live in him, carve itself into his soul, and he would carry it with him for the rest of his life. But for now, in this moment, she would carry it with him.

“You’re not alone,” she whispered, though she knew her words wouldn’t reach him yet.

He didn’t respond, his eyes glazed with a faraway look, as though he were no longer there. He had drifted somewhere beyond reach, lost in the fog of his grief. But she stayed with him, holding him close, her own heart breaking for him.

The world outside remained cold, indifferent, but here, in the quiet wreckage of a life forever changed, there was at least the comfort of being held. And sometimes, in the face of unimaginable loss, that is all there is.


//


Hope you enjoyed the fiction I wrote! This is the first every fiction I’ve ever posted so I’m a little nervous!