Page 108 of Shadowed Whispers

I bite my lip, mentally chastising myself. Skipping class was a bad move, but my final paper was already submitted. “Right, okay,” I murmur, forcing a smile. I grab my backpack and sling it over my shoulder, following Matteo out of my room.

Honestly, Professor Blackwood gives me the creeps, and he is the last person I want to talk to, but it’s the last meeting before winter break.

The corridors are quiet, students tucked away in their rooms or packing up to spend time at home for the holidays. The storm outside mirrors the turbulence inside me, but Matteo’s steady presence is a welcome distraction. The faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzes above us, and the scent of rain wafts in through the slightly open windows, adding to the sense of unease.

“So, Matteo,” I begin, trying to break the silence, “I realized I don’t know much about you. Where are you from?”

“India,” he replies, his voice steady. “My parents are traditional. I’m their only child.”

“Traditional?” I echo, my curiosity piqued. “What does that mean for you?”

“It means a lot of expectations,” Matteo says, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I was always expected to excel and uphold the family name. There’s a lot of pressure.”

“Sounds tough,” I say, empathizing with the weight of his words. “Did you always want to study here?”

He nods, his expression thoughtful. “Yes. Coming here was a way to prove myself and show that I could succeed on my own terms.”

We walk in silence for a few moments, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the hallway. The storm rages outside, but inside, I feel a growing sense of calmness. Matteo’s honesty is refreshing, and I want to know more. The soft patter of rain against the windows and the distant rumble of thunder provide a backdrop to our conversation, adding a layer of intimacy to our exchange.

“What about your family?” I ask. “Do you miss them?”

“Of course,” Matteo says, his tone softening. “But they are proud of me. They understand why I had to come here.”

His openness is disarming, and I realize how little I’ve scratched the surface of who he really is. “What’s it like being an only child?” I ask, genuinely curious. I feel like we can relate on being alone.

At least I think I’m an only child. It’s hard to think that I might have a sibling that my parents dropped at a different orphanage, but I give the people I don’t know the benefit of the doubt, because that’s just a shitty thing to do.

“Lonely sometimes,” he admits, “but it also means I’m very close to my parents. They’ve always been there for me, supporting me.”

I nod, absorbing his words. “Do they know about... everything that’s been happening here?”

Am I being pushy? Maybe a little, but now that I know my shadows aren’t just hallucinations or my imagination, I want to know more. Well, maybe a little. Just not completely.

Fuck, I’m a mess.

Matteo’s eyes darken slightly, a shadow passing over his face. “They know enough. I didn’t want to worry them too much.”

I glance at him, sensing there’s more he’s not saying, but I don’t push. Instead, I change the subject. “What do you like to do when you’re not buried in books and assignments?”

A genuine smile breaks across his face. “I enjoy playing the drums. It’s a way to unwind and let out stress.”

I blink, surprised. “Really? I never would have guessed.”

The image of Matteo behind a drum set, completely in his element, flashes in my mind. It’s an unexpected and intriguing fact about him. I can almost hear the beats and feel the vibrations.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Frankie,” he says, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

I laugh, the tension in my shoulders easing. “Clearly. I’ll have to ask you more often.”

We reach the end of the corridor, and Matteo holds the door open for me. The wind howls outside, but inside, the warmth of our conversation lingers. I hesitate, not wanting to go outside, but I do, and luckily, it isn’t raining yet. The smell of ozone hangs heavily in the air, an electric charge that prickles my skin.

“What about you?” Matteo asks as we step into the next building. “What do you do to unwind?”

“Jogging,” I say without hesitation. “It’s my escape, my way of making sense of the world.”

Matteo nods, his expression understanding. “I’d love to jog with you someday.”

A blush creeps up my cheeks, and I duck my head. “Maybe one day.”

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