Page 175 of Rosetti Family New York
It feels too soon to be back here, too soon for anything except the empty space Maddy left behind. It's been only three weeks since she died, yet the library still seems to whisper her name with every soft murmur and rustling page. I lean my forehead against the table, trying to breathe through the tight ache in my chest while her laugh rings in my ears. I almost scream, but instead I scroll to Lucas's last text: "Are you getting this?" I'm not sure I can face Maddy's brother yet, but I know I've got to start somewhere.
All around campus, the usual buzz of student life continues, the chatter and clatter that Maddy once brightened up with her energy. Now, she's like a gentle ghost lingering in every corner, and I feel swamped by memories: late nights studying together with coffee cups scattered on our table, her random little comments that always managed to draw a smile out of me.
Shifting in my hard chair, I try to focus on the notebook in front of me, letting the steady rhythm of writing offer a little comfort. But just when I settle in, her face slips between the lines like an unexpected visitor. It's as if the silence around me fillsup all the space she used to occupy, leaving my lungs tight with longing. Even though the pain is still too fresh, I remind myself I need to live with it. I wrap my arms around this loss, letting it crash through me until it dulls and reshapes. I have to know who killed her, and that means coming back to this place, this life, even when her memory seems to pop up around every corner.
My phone's screen glares brightly in the dim light, a reminder of all the people I've been ignoring, condolences from folks who barely knew her, sent as if they understood how deep she ran. But then there's Lucas, his texts short and hurried, filled with growing desperation. "Are you getting this?" he asks again. The guilt of making him wait stings, so I type a simple, "Yes," let it hover for a moment, and hit send.
Later, I head over to the cozy coffee shop just off campus, a familiar refuge during exam weeks, even if now life feels split between me and Maddy's brother. I see him before he sees me: a jumble of dark hair and eyes locked onto the table. He's in his usual hoodie, though today it seems to swallow him up completely. My heart jitters between relief and a nagging worry that maybe it's too late. Still, I force myself to walk over.
I almost don't recognize him. In just three weeks, Lucas has transformed, his face gaunt and hollow-cheeked, like grief has been physically carving away at him. The dark circles under his eyes suggest he hasn't slept in days. He's lost so much weight that his hoodie, usually snug, hangs from his shoulders like it belongs to someone else.
"Hey," I say in a warm, friendly tone. I was always the cheerful one in our little trio, but it feels like a burden now.
He jumps a bit, his raw brown eyes meeting mine. His face is sharper now, etched with fresh grief, which twists something inside me.
"Hey," he replies, his voice rough as sandpaper. "I thought... Shit, Sloane, I wasn't even sure if you'd—"
"I'm sorry," I interrupt softly, easing into the chair beside him.
It feels odd sitting here without Maddy's infectious laugh and the way she filled the space with warmth.
I try again: "I should have… I'm really sorry."
He lets out a long, shaky exhale and runs a hand through his hair. It's greasy, unwashed. Another sign that he's barely holding it together.
"I didn't know where else to go."
I study him, Maddy's brother, a friend I've known almost as long as Maddy. He's breaking, and it's like looking into a mirror of my own pain.
"They're saying it was drugs," Lucas says, his voice fast, overlapping with doubt. "I don't—I don't believe it. Do you?"
"Of course not," I reply with more steadiness than I feel. "She'd never do that. She—" I pause, lost in the memory of Maddy curled up at her desk, totally absorbed in work she loved. "No. It wasn't drugs. I know it wasn't."
"Do you?" Lucas's tone turns sharp, and I flinch. "Do you really?"
He looks down, regret softening his anger for a moment as silence settles between us, a silence as messy as everything has felt since Maddy died.
His phone buzzes against the table, the screen lighting up with a text. Lucas snaps it up so quickly he almost knocks over his coffee. His eyes scan the message, and I watch as all the color drains from his face. His hand trembles as he shoves the phone into his pocket.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
"Yeah," he says too quickly. "Just... landlord. Rent's late again."
He laughs, but it's hollow and forced. "Can't seem to keep up with anything these days. They're threatening to evict me if I don't pay by Friday."
I lean forward, my heart beating faster.
"Lucas, they're wrong. We're going to prove it."
He shakes his head slowly, running his hand through his hair again. It's a nervous tic I've never noticed before.
"You didn't hear what they said, Sloane. They sounded so sure, like they really knew." He hesitates, glancing toward the door like he's expecting someone. "I... I thought maybe you'd heard something, that you really knew her. I thought..."
"I didn't know she was in trouble," I confess quietly. "But she wouldn't have been into drugs. Please, you have to believe that."
He sinks back in his chair, exhausted, angry, and frightened.
"I don't know what to believe anymore."
