That morning, the sky was clear, but not blinding. On the same park bench, Andini waited, rereading her work.
The story had been completed the night before, but there was one part she kept returning to, the one she had written in secret, carefully.
"Fani never asked for the world to be kind. But she always knew how to make a small corner of it feel enough to come home to." – Fani.
Andini closed her laptop just as she heard Fani's footsteps approaching. As usual, Fani sat quietly. But today, there was something in her hand— a brochure.
"I found this contest last night," Fani said, handing it to Andini."I want you to join."
Andini scanned it quickly. A National Short Story Writing Contest. The deadline in two weeks. The theme: "Someone Who Changed Your Life."
Andini looked up, her gaze searching Fani's eyes. "Are you serious?"
Fani nodded. "Write the one you wrote last night, the one about me. Enter it. I know you're scared, Din. But sometimes, the only way to be brave… is to believe."
Andini paused. Of all the people in the world, why was it Fani who believed in her most?
She gripped the brochure tightly, then smiled—not because she was certain of winning, but because she knew: the story had finally found its home.
And that home wasn't a stage, or a trophy.It was someone beside her, who quietly had always been the reason for her to keep writing.
***
If sadness had a form, it would perhaps resemble Fani's steps that day—slow, head bowed, and trying not to be seen.
The campus corridor was never this empty, yet it never felt so silent, either.
The small smiles that once appeared were now gone, replaced by vacant stares, indifference, or even a faint laugh that could be heard when her back passed by.
Today, something was different. Not just the whispers that grew louder, but also the small scraps of paper scattered on her bench—papers with cruel, mocking words in harsh capital letters:
"Pitiful, your life's already broken, still pretending to be active!" And another one, "Wanna be a writer? Funny. Write about your failed life."
Andini only realized when she entered the classroom and found Fani picking up those torn pieces with trembling hands.Her eyes were red, but she held it together. Andini sat next to her silently.Sometimes, silence works better than a thousand words.
"You don't have to carry all this alone," Andini finally said, quietly.
Fani turned to her, offering a small smile. A smile that no longer held any light.
"I don't know what to do either. I reported it, but the professor said... 'Don't be so sensitive, just let it go.'"
Andini looked at her, disbelief in her gaze."That's not the wind, Fan. That's a wound. A wound you've been carrying alone every day."
***
In the cafeteria, a group of students sat, laughing loudly.
One of them, Nisa, a student from another department, had recently started hanging around that circle. She, who had once been indifferent, was now the most vocal when talking about Fani.
"You know, I'm really puzzled... why does this campus give space to someone like her? Trying to build a social image, or just looking for sympathy?" Laughter followed her words.
A new student, Dito, looked uneasy in his seat. He didn't join in the laughter.
A few days ago, he saw Fani sitting alone in the park, holding a letter from home, one that expressed disappointment from her older sister, just because Fani hadn't attended a family event.
"Don't bother with the outside world, Fan," the letter had said."You've already caused enough trouble at home."
Dito wasn't close to Fani. In fact, they had never really talked.
But there was something in Fani's eyes that made him uneasy—eyes that screamed, but the world turned a deaf ear.
That night, Fani sat before her laptop screen. She tried to write, but every word felt hollow.
On the other side, Andini quietly worked on something—not a story, but a proposal for a program at the campus.
The title: "The Forgotten Voice." It was a proposal for an open forum for bullying victims, complete with testimonies, and an effort to make the campus stop turning a blind eye.
"If the system can't hear, maybe our voices have to be louder," Andini muttered.
***
A few days after the contest, Fani began to skip classes more frequently. At first, Andini thought she might be exhausted or dealing with family matters.
But the unanswered messages, and the empty seat in class, began to make her uneasy.
She tried waiting outside the classroom. But Fani didn't come.Until one afternoon, when Andini left early and passed through the small garden behind the faculty, she saw a figure she knew too well.
Fani sat alone, her head bowed, wearing a jacket despite the hot weather.In her hand, a crumpled letter. Andini approached slowly, careful not to startle her.
"I thought you were sick," Andini said softly, sitting beside her.
Fani hastily folded the letter, but it was too late for Andini not to notice: it was a letter. Neatly written, but cold.
"From my sister," Fani said without being asked, her voice flat."She said... I'm too spoiled. Too quiet. Too... troublesome."
Andini took a deep breath. Words like that, from your own family, could never truly be forgiven.
"She thinks I'm using my condition to seek attention," Fani lowered her head."Funny, right, Din? Even my family thinks I'm the one to blame."
Andini stared at her friend. Then, slowly, she moved closer.
"You know? When you told me I should enter the contest, I felt... like there was someone who believed I could. And I wrote about you, not because you pitied me. But because you... saved me from drowning, Fan."
Fani remained silent. But her eyes spoke volumes. There was an old wound, wide open, and Andini knew, that wound couldn't be healed with sweet words alone.But presence—yes, presence could be the start of healing.
That night, in her room, Andini opened her laptop.She opened a blank document, typing with fingers that still trembled.
Proposal for an Anti-Bullying Awareness Forum.
The title was simple. But its content would become something more than just a campus assignment.It was about giving voice to silent wounds that had been ignored for too long.
***
The evening began to fall slowly through the library window. Orange light danced through Andini's hair, left loose.
Before her, Fani still sat with her head down, staring at a journal page she no longer read. Her face was somber, almost silent.
Andini silently watched her friend. There were so many words she wanted to say, but most of them never found their way to her lips.But that afternoon, she knew, silence wasn't enough.Silence didn't save anyone.
She reached into her bag. Pulled out a clear folder, half-filled with papers.
"I'm going to submit a proposal to the campus. About... literacy, freedom of expression, and a safe space for anyone who feels alienated," Andini said slowly.
"We can't wait for others to care. Sometimes, we have to be the beginning."
Fani looked up. Her eyes held traces of exhaustion, but also a flicker of confusion. "You mean...?"
"I know we can't change the world overnight. But maybe... we can create one small space, one place, where people like you don't feel alone. Where words can be louder than mockery."
That afternoon, the sun sank slowly behind the campus building. And in its last rays, Fani smiled—a small smile, nearly invisible.But enough to shake Andini's world.