But why

To complain was the only distraction for Mirha over the weekend that she stayed home. The food wasn't spicy enough, the clothes were too crumpled, why is the television still on, why is everybody home, my head hurts, don't talk to me. Aqsa suspected something was wrong, and said as much, but Mirha only snapped at her. It was more a reason to be convinced that something was definitely up, for she rarely acquired such behavior. But they gave her space after enough snapping and retorting back, and asked nothing more.

The weekend was up, sooner than she would have liked. Going back there was like jumping into the water even though you know you can't swim. But she had to, because she had three people depending on her, whose futures she had to secure.

She refused to go out of her room, even though nobody had yet returned from the break, and the college campus was almost vacant throughout the day. Work wasn't hard, she was getting used to being called up from her desk for small things, though going about the offices, up and down the floors,  she dreaded running into Hadi at any moment. It was his father's company, he could come any time he wanted.

But he didn't, and Mirha couldn't have been more relieved.

She liked being alone for the three weeks, where she went to her job during the day hours, and came back to study for the night. Going to the library was out of option, she didn't want to go to any place that would remind her of Hadi and what almost happened, as if staying in her room, trying to focus on the book and instead being subjected to various thoughts about him, and going to his office wasn't enough.

It was much later when the students started to return, the professors and the coordinators began taking frequent visits, and her roommate was back that Mirha found out what tragedy had transpired when she was away.

She was in her room, lying on her bed as she gazed out the window at the evening sky, after having exhausted herself  by reading the same paragraph repeatedly and not being able to comprehend a single word. The door to the room creaked open, and she heard her roommate come in, who would now be starting her junior year from tomorrow, when the classes would begin. Having only returned last night, her things were still packed, the burgundy suitcase lying on her bed.

"Yeah, it's fine." She was talking to someone on the phone. There was a pause, as she probably listened to the person  on the other side, and then she gasped.

"What?! Are you sure? … Who told you? … But why? . . . My god, I knew him, in fact, my roommate here," she threw a glance at Mirha, who got attentive at the mention of her name, "he pursued her for quite some time, and even got slapped . . . No, it couldn't be that. It's been almost a year. Yeah. . .Something happened over the break . . . Where was I three days before anyway. And why didn't the news break out on Facebook?  . . . It's tragic."

Mirha slowly got up, her heart was racing for some reason. She knew it was about Bilal. "What happened?" She heard herself say quietly, dreading the answer.

Her roommate turned to her, and said to the person on the phone, "Hold on for one minute, let me tell this to Mirha. She doesn't know apparently." Then turning to face her, she added, "Bilal Asif? He's dead. It was suicide."

As the words settled in, a shiver ran down Mirha's spine. She blinked, dropped her gaze.

No, no this can't be true.

Still in shock, she jumped to her feet, ran out of the room, exited the hostel, up on the gravel path, she crossed the garden, climbed the steps to the admin block, and halted in front of the notice board.

THIS IS TO BRING IN YOUR KNOWLEDGE THAT OUR STUDENT FROM THE DEPARTMENT OF BUSINESS MANAGEMENT, BILAL ASIF, IS NO LONGER BETWEEN US. YOU ALL ARE REQUESTED TO PRAY FOR YOUR FELLOW STUDENT, FOR HIS SOUL, AND FOR HIS FAMILY AND CLOSE FRIENDS.

She read it again, and then again. She was still panting, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

Why, why, why? She kept repeating to herself as she turned around to leave.

There was a sudden hollowness inside her. Nothing was making any sense. Nothing was straight anymore.

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