99 Days Left

The Weight of Silence

The morning sun slipped through the curtains, painting golden lines across Luna's bedroom. It should have felt warm. Instead, it only made the room seem emptier.

She had been awake for hours.

The alarm on her phone rang at exactly seven o'clock. She reached over, silenced it, and stared at the ceiling. Another day had begun, but nothing inside her had changed. The heaviness in her chest was still there, just as it had been yesterday...and the day before that.

Her room was neat, almost too neat. Books were stacked perfectly on the shelf. Clothes hung in careful rows inside the closet. On her desk sat a small cactus that hadn't grown in months. Everything looked alive, except the girl who lived there.

Luna slowly sat up and glanced at the calendar pinned to the wall.

Today.

She circled the date with a black pen.

Not because it was special.

Just because crossing out another day had become a habit.

Downstairs, the smell of breakfast drifted through the house.

"You're going to be late," her mother called.

"I'm coming."

The words left Luna's mouth automatically, empty of emotion.

At the breakfast table, silence settled between them like an invisible guest. Her mother scrolled through work emails while her father read the morning news. No one asked how Luna had slept. No one noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes.

"Don’t forget your umbrella," her father said without looking up.

"It might rain."

"I won't."

That was all.

No "Have a good day."

No smile.

No conversation.

Luna quietly finished her toast, slipped on her shoes, and walked out the front door.

Outside, the streets buzzed with life.

Children laughed on their way to school. A street vendor greeted customers with a cheerful smile. Birds gathered on electrical wires, singing without a care.

Luna watched them for a moment.

She wondered what it felt like to wake up excited about another day.

At school, she moved through the crowded hallways like a ghost. Friends chatted around her, teachers greeted students, lockers slammed shut.

"Luna!"

She turned.

Her classmate, Mia, hurried toward her with a bright smile.

"You disappeared after class yesterday. Are you okay?"

Luna forced the corners of her mouth upward.

"I'm fine."

It was the easiest lie she'd ever learned.

Mia looked at her for a second, as if she wanted to ask something more. But the school bell rang, and the moment slipped away.

Classes passed in a blur.

Words filled the whiteboard.

Pens scratched against papers.

Student laughed.

Luna heard everything but listened to nothing. When launch arrived, she climbed the stairs to the rooftop instead of joining everyone in the cafeteria.

It had become her hiding place.

From there, the city stretched endlessly before her. Cars looked like tiny toys. People hurried below, each carrying lives she would never know.

The wind brushed against her face.

For the first time that day, she closed her eyes.

The silence felt kinder than people did.

Sometimes she wondered if anyone would notice if she simply stopped showing up.

Would her empty seat stay empty?

Would anyone remember the quiet girl who always smiled just enough to convince everyone she was okay?

A single tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.

She quickly wiped it away.

"No crying," she whispered to herself.

"You've gotten good at pretending."