A few weeks after the Forum of Awareness began to take shape, something shifted in the air around campus.Not dramatically. Not miraculously. But just enough.
Tiny posters began appearing on notice boards. Light conversations floated from the corners of the garden.
Some lecturers—those who had once chosen silence—now began to open space in their classrooms for voices that had long been ignored.And among all that, Fani found herself walking with a little less of a slouch.
***
That morning, she woke up earlier than usual. Not because of a nightmare, but because the air felt crisp, clean.Outside her window, the sky looked like a blank page waiting to be written on.
She pulled on a jacket and left without much thought.The path to the bus stop felt quieter than usual, and for the first time in a long while, she didn't feel like she was being chased.
***
Room 2.12 was a little livelier than usual that day. About eight people had shown up—two of them new faces.
One read a poem about loss. Another spoke softly about a brother who had gone silent after years of being mocked.
Fani sat in the corner, saying nothing.But for once, she didn't feel alone.
After the session, Andini caught up with her in the hallway.
"Next week, our advisor wants us to present the proposal again. Final round."
Fani looked at her, awkwardly. "Are you sure… we can do this?"
Andini smiled. "I don't know. But at the very least, we've made sure our voices aren't disappearing anymore."
Fani nodded. There was something warm returning to her chest, quietly.She was still scared. But she wasn't alone anymore.
***
Laughter echoed through the canteen as usual.
Nisa sat at the center of it all, slipping cynical remarks between bites of fried snacks and mindless chatter.
"Someone said they were starting a healing forum," she scoffed. "But it just looked like a bunch of sad people whining online."
The others laughed. Though not all of them.
Dito sat alone in the corner. He didn't laugh, nor did he comment.In his hands was a piece of paper he had found last week—a printout of a student blog post, about courage in the face of fear.
He found himself rereading a single line:
"Sometimes, all we need is one person who doesn't laugh at our wounds to survive one more day."
He didn't know who had written it. But deep inside, he felt… it might be about someone he'd once seen in the garden.Someone named Fani.
***
The afternoon wind brushed through the little park near the library.Fani sat on a stone bench, staring at the sky slowly shifting its colors.
Andini sat beside her, opening her laptop.
"Wanna see?" she asked.
Fani nodded softly.
On the screen was the blog they had created—posts from forum participants, and one written by Andini herself—about Fani, about bravery, and about a world that often pretended not to see.
Fani read quietly.And when she reached the final sentence, her eyes blurred with tears.
Not out of sadness.But because, for the first time, she saw herself… being fought for.
The sun dipped lower, casting warm orange streaks across the horizon.
Fani gently closed Andini's laptop. Her hands trembled slightly—not out of fear, but because something inside her had started to thaw.Something that had long been frozen.
"I've never seen myself that clearly," she whispered.
Andini turned. "What do you mean?"
"All this time… I just felt like a burden. At home, at school, everywhere. But your writing made me realize… I'm not just a wound. I'm also a story."
Andini smiled but said nothing.She knew that sometimes, silence was the highest form of respect for words born from such depths.
***
The next day, campus felt different.
Their proposal had been accepted for open discussion—a kind of limited forum where student initiatives were presented before faculty and student organizations.
Andini could hardly contain her excitement.Fani, on the other hand, felt anxious.But not the kind of anxiety that made her want to run.It was more like… nervousness because, for the first time, someone was hoping something of her.
Whispers still filled the hallway as Fani walked toward class.
Some students glanced at her—long enough to make her aware: her name and face were starting to become known.
Not as a victim. But as "the one with Andini" or "the one who wrote that forum blog."
But not all glances were kind.
Nisa, standing not far away with her group, narrowed her eyes.
"Look at her. Getting all confident now," she muttered.
One of her friends chuckled.
"Maybe she'll be the campus mascot next."
Nisa laughed too, but her eyes said something else—like an old wound refusing to heal, or an ego unsettled by the sound of a voice it couldn't silence anymore.
Dito saw all of this from afar.
He stood by the lockers, pretending to fuss with some papers.But his eyes followed Fani's steps down the corridor.
There was a pause in him—a mix of curiosity and guilt.
He still didn't have the courage to speak.
But maybe… that day, something inside him shifted: a realization that silence comes with a cost. And he was growing tired of paying it.
***
The forum met again that afternoon.
One more participant had joined.Dito sat in the back corner, not saying much, just listening.
Fani noticed him from across the room. She wasn't sure if she recognized him.
But there was something in his gaze—something that didn't judge. That didn't laugh. And sometimes, that was enough.
When the session ended and everyone began to leave, Fani stayed seated.She looked out the window. At a sky that hadn't changed—but somehow didn't feel the same.
Andini walked over. "Tomorrow's the presentation," she said.
Fani took a deep breath.
"I know. And for the first time, I don't want to hide."
Andini let out a quiet laugh.
"Maybe you're becoming a new version of yourself, Fan."
Fani smiled.
"Or maybe… I'm just remembering who I really am."
***
That morning, seminar room 3.01 felt warmer than usual.
Not because of the weather, but because something was different in the air.It felt like the beginning of something that could matter.
Andini stood in front of the projector screen.
She held a tiny pointer, but her eyes faced the semi-circle of people seated before her.
Some professors. Some student organization reps. A few strangers.And Fani.She sat in the second row, clutching a notebook she hadn't yet opened.But she was there. Chin lifted. Fully present.
Andini began.
"Good morning. We're not here as heroes. We're here as students who once felt unheard, and who want to make sure others won't have to feel the same."
There was a pause.Someone at the back tapped a pen on the table, then stopped as Andini continued.
"We're not here to blame anyone. We're here to start a conversation. About silence. About wounds. About spaces that should embrace instead of suppress."
Slide by slide passed—not flashy infographics, but simple sentences. Quotes from their blog. Snippets from the weekly forums.
Anonymous voices, veiled—but painfully real.
When Andini finished, the room stayed quiet.Not out of boredom. But because no one quite knew what to say.
Until finally, a female professor raised her hand.
"I don't know whether to applaud or be concerned, Andini. But I… I heard you. And that's not something easy to ignore."
And like water seeping through a tiny crack, more comments followed.
Not all agreed. Not all understood. But no one laughed.And that was enough.
After the presentation, Fani met Andini outside the corridor.
"Din… you were incredible back there."
Andini let out a long breath.
"I don't know if they'll accept it."
Fani looked at her and spoke softly,"But you made them quiet. And sometimes, that's harder than making them speak."
***
That evening, the weekly forum resumed.
Twice as many people as last week.Fani was asked to share a few words.
She hesitated. Then stood.
"I used to just observe. But now I know… silence is a choice. And maybe, now I'm learning not to choose it anymore."
Soft applause. Not loud. But warm.
Dito watched from the back. Still silent.But his face seemed lighter—like someone seeing sunlight after hiding in shadows for too long.
Elsewhere, Nisa stared at her laptop screen.
She was reading the latest blog post from the Student Awareness Forum—about small acts of courage amid immense pressure.About spaces growing from scars.
Her eyes narrowed. Lips pressed tight.
"I won't stay quiet," she muttered.
"If they think tiny voices can change anything… let's see how long it lasts."
***
And night fell.
No explosions. No storms.
But something moved quietly beneath the surface—like an underground current, unseen yet ready to crash at any time.
That night, Fani sat in her room.The sky was dark, but the moon hung in halves—like the faint smile of a universe that never spoke much, but always showed up.
She opened the notebook she hadn't dared to write in all day.And with a pen slightly trembling in her hand, she wrote one line:
"If I can't change this world, maybe I can survive it just a little longer. Just a little stronger."
A gentle breeze drifted in, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant cricketsong.
Her phone buzzed—a notification from Andini's blog. A new post published.
And far away, Nisa shut her laptop with a blank face. But her eyes held something unfinished.
The world was quiet. But not truly still.
Because night is just a pause in the middle of a long, long day.
And in that silence, each of them began to ready themselves.For a tomorrow that might not be easier.
But would certainly be more real.