117. Glimpse of hope..
Three weeks of silence.
Three weeks where neither Aiden nor Chloe showed up in college.
Three weeks of dead phone screens, unanswered messages, and friends worrying nonstop.
Out of everyone, the one who worried the most… was Marcelline.
She kept calling once every few days — not too much, not too little — but enough to show she cared.
Aiden noticed her name every time.
And every time… he let it ring.
He couldn't talk.
He couldn't pretend he was okay.
He couldn't let her hear the brokenness inside him.
He barely spoke to his own family these days — how could he speak to an angel like her?
--
Aiden's phone buzzed again.
He didn't even look.
He was lying curled on the edge of his bed, hoodie covering half his face, eyes red but dry — he had cried so much earlier he didn't have tears left.
His phone rang again — second time.
He ignored it.
Again — third time.
Without checking the screen, exhausted and irritated, he grabbed the phone and pressed it to his ear.
"Hello—" he started, voice rough.
But then he froze.
Because the voice that answered was soft, gentle, warm — a voice that always made him feel safe.
"Aiden?"
Marcelline's angelic tone floated through the speaker, calm and comforting.
Aiden's throat closed instantly.
Tears filled his eyes without warning.
His lips trembled.
His breath hitched painfully.
He bit down on his teeth hard — really hard — to stop the sob rising in his chest.
He couldn't speak.
He couldn't.
He knew the moment he opened his mouth, he'd break completely.
So he stayed silent.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Five minutes…
He kept the phone pressed to his ear, breathing shakily, silently crying.
But Marcelline never hung up.
She didn't say "hello?", didn't question him, didn't disconnect.
She simply stayed… quietly, patiently… as if telling him:
"Take your time. I'm here."
Aiden squeezed his eyes shut.
Nobody had done that for him before.
Not one person had stayed on the line when he couldn't speak.
Everyone either asked too many questions… or hung up.
But she stayed.
She stayed.
And that broke him in the softest, gentlest way.
After five long minutes, Aiden inhaled a shaky breath.
"H… hello…" he whispered finally — voice broken, trembling, full of pain and exhaustion.
Marcelline's heart clenched instantly.
She recognized the weight behind that single word.
She heard the grief.
The fear.
The loneliness.
The trauma.
"Aiden…" she said softly, "You sound like you've been hurting."
Aiden closed his eyes tightly, tears escaping.
He covered his mouth with his hand, trying to muffle the shaking breaths but failing.
"S-sorry…" he whispered, ashamed.
"I—I didn't… mean to ignore you… I just… I couldn't— I… it's been—"
His voice cracked, breaking mid-sentence.
Marcelline listened in complete silence.
Not interrupting.
Not rushing him.
Not asking anything.
Just… listening.
Her presence through the phone felt like warm sunlight on a frozen heart.
Aiden took another unsteady breath, fighting the urge to sob.
"I'm not okay…" he finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm really… really not okay, Marcelline."
The moment he said it, he broke.
His breath stuttered, soft sobs escaping uncontrollably.
He tried covering the mic, but it didn't matter — she already heard the pain in every second of silence.
Marcelline's voice softened even more.
"You don't have to tell me everything," she murmured.
"Just… talk to me. Whatever you can. I'm here."
Aiden clenched the bedsheet, tears falling freely now.
"I-I can't tell you… you'll think I'm insane… you'll think something's wrong with me…" he whispered, words cracking apart.
"I won't," Marcelline said gently.
"You're hurting. That doesn't make you insane."
Her voice wrapped around him like a blanket — steady, patient, so painfully kind.
Aiden sobbed again, silently this time.
"Thank you…" he whispered shakily.
"For… for not hanging up."
Marcelline closed her eyes on her side of the call.
"Aiden," she whispered, "I didn't hang up because I could feel… you needed someone."
"No one else… stayed," Aiden whispered, voice breaking.
"Everyone hung up…"
"But I'm not 'everyone,'" Marcelline breathed.
Those words hit him so hard he felt another wave of tears rise.
She didn't know the details.
But she understood the pain.
She didn't know what happened that night.
But she sensed something terrible.
And most importantly—
She didn't let him feel alone.
---