The Way We Mend | Book 1 | Author AifiHwa

(2) Weight of expectations

I munched the bread and gulped on the last bit of my pumpkin soup.

"Andy, I am going back to my room. I have class at 2 pm", I got up and swung my backpack.

Andrea nodded repeatedly and gave me a thumb-up while slurping her miso noodle. Maya gave me a small waves. They will probably stay here until lunch time. I hastened my steps; thinking of my comfy bed and the much-needed shut-eye.

Sunlight flooded the living hall, casting a golden hue across the floor as the sheer curtains swayed gently in the morning breeze. The warmth of the room, the soft rustle of fabric, the quiet and gentle breeze wrapped around me like a blanket. Making my eyelids heavier with each step. Eva must have gone to the academic building or the library, her stacks of papers and documents were tucked neatly on one corner. I made my way to the bedroom, drawing the curtain closed and letting my bag drop to the floor. Kicking off my jeans and crawled into bed, the sheets felt cool against my skin. I shifted about, searching for that perfect familiar spot.

"I have 3 hours to nap", setting the alarm on my mobile phone and I turned on the air-conditioner.

"Hope I wake up on time", I snickered and trying to fall asleep.

-—-----—------—------—------—----—---

Inside the crowded lecture hall, where the air hummed with anticipation, I was lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. The supposed afternoon nap had done little to shift my mood, I guessed nothing ever does. My eyes were fixated on a blank space, trying to grasp the essence of the day. I tried to focus and to find something solid in all the haze. The professor's words floated past me; ghostly and untethered. Disappearing into the vast expanse of my contemplative mind before they could ever root themselves.

A sudden burst of laughter from the back row startled me back into focus. I blinked and came out of the fog. The professor had made a joke, evidently, but I hadn't caught it - only the aftermath. Around me, heads were nodding and pens scratching. Everyone else seemed to belong here, grounded and engaged. And then there was me, detached and drifting like I'd shown up in someone else's life by mistake.

My fingers tightened slightly around the pen in my hand, not to write anything, just to feel something solid. Telling myself that this is real and I must go through it. The class I'm attending now is Environmental Chemistry. The lectures hall was not as big as the amphitheatre because only students from Faculty of Geoscience attended.

"The formation of soil takes centuries as weathering erosion and deposition of rocks gradually break them down into smaller particles." Dr. Sophia Adler, the dean and one of the most senior lecturers in Geoscience Department - a cranky one too, started elaborating.

Dr. Sophia's marker squeaked against the whiteboard, tracing intricate webs of chemical formulas and diagrams that twisted and overlapped like tangled thoughts. Her voice flowed with the confidence of someone who lived and breathed the subject, each term rolling off her tongue effortlessly.

Across the lecture hall, students scribbled furiously, their pens scratching in perfect rhythm. As if they all spoke a language I'd never learned. I tried to keep up, but the symbols blurred, the words dissolved into meaningless noise. A tight knot formed in my stomach, churning until I thought I might lose whatever I'd eaten that morning.

The air felt heavier with every breath. 'I want to go home'. I muttered inside.

Eighty-five students filled the room but it might as well have been a sealed chamber. The walls seemed to inch closer, squeezing the air out of me. My pulse drummed in my ears... faster, louder. I gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles whitening, as if that alone could steady me. It has been a while since my anxiety resurfaced.