“What are you doing?” The voice cut through the rush of water below me. My fingers were tightening around the rough stone parapet. One foot rested on the ledge; the other remained behind, undecided. I imagined the water folding over my head, muffling every sound until even my heartbeat disappeared. Yet, hearing distant chatter from my classmate going to school, I couldn't move. “What are you doing?” His voice felt like a rope dropped into a hole. “Emily! Catch my hand.” I tried to answer, but no sound came. Calling my name, he climbed over the parapet. Teetering beside me, he squeezed my hand. “The water sounds good,” he whispered. “I want to jump.” “Stop! I will get down.” I panicked. He smiled faintly. “This time I saved you, so let's walk together.” I stepped back down to safety. “I said go, Jordan.” The school bell still echoed as I hurried into class. My foot caught on a desk, and I crashed violently to the floor. Cruel laughter burst through the room. A sudden, loud bang shattered the mockery. Jordan had slammed his books onto his desk, glaring at the room. “Oh! It was an accident,” he scoffed. The teacher slammed his hand on the desk. “Enough!” he thundered, and the room fell silent. “Each one should choose his partner for next week's presentation.” Jordan raised his hand, staring right at me: “Emily and I, we are a group.” Whispering rippled across the room. The teacher turned to me. “Emily?” Knowing Jordan was the class troublemaker, the room held its breath. Under my breath, I whispered, “Okay.” “Get in, Emily,” Jordan called out over the rumble of the engine. The hum of the motor instantly pulled me back to that rainy night—the screech of metal, the shattered glass, the crushing silence that took my parents. My knees went weak. I gripped my bicycle handlebars until my knuckles turned white. “I don't ride in cars,” I choked out, pedaling away as fast as I could. Stepping inside, the warm scent of fresh bread greeted me as my grandma called from the kitchen. But the doorbell abruptly ruined the warm moment. I opened the door to find Jordan. “Hi, Emily!” I slammed the door in his face. My grandma reopened the door. “Welcome! I'm Jordan—Emily's friend—and we have to work on our presentation, so can I go with her?” She took him to the reception. Moments later, Jordan led me outside and flicked his bike bell: Ding-ding! “What do you think of mine?” He smirked: “Follow me.” As we rode, he peppered me with questions, but only one stuck: ‘Why won't you ride in my car?' “Can we return?” I whispered. “I'm sorry; really, I didn't mean anything. Can we just ride?” A silent war raged inside me as memories flooded back—the violent crash that took my parents. We arrived at a hidden lake. The water murmured endlessly, carrying the wind's secrets across its glassy surface. This simple whisper eased the tension from my body, leaving me completely at peace. Over the next few weeks, we returned often, talking and laughing. Then one afternoon, Jordan dived underwater and didn't come up. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty. “Jordan! Jordan!” I screamed, but the surface gave back only silence. When his head finally broke the water near the bank, I reached down and dragged him onto the shore, trembling. “Don't ever do that!” He sat beside me, shivering. “My whole life, people only saw a troublemaker. I come here because underwater is the only place where the noise stops.” Looking into his eyes, I realized the troublemaker everyone saw wasn't who he really was. I took a deep breath and finally revealed the truth about the car crash that took my parents. The next day in the cafeteria, somebody seized me by the hair. “The sweet girl with the troublemaker,” he sneered. Jordan's patience snapped. A heartbeat later, he lunged, sending the bully sprawling backward with a split lip. Panic filled my mind—the fear that he was destroying his life because of me. I snapped, “Stop, Jordan! You're going to ruin your life for me—please stop!” He froze, hurt flashing across his face, before turning and running away. Days slipped by. Every afternoon, I went to Jordan's house, but his sister always gave the same answer: he refused to see anyone. On the fifth day, no one answered. I went to the lake. On the damp shore lay his folded shirt, shoes, and wallet. On top sat a paper weighted by a stone. Emily, You didn't push me away. You were the only light in the room that was already dark. I tried to hold on, but noise got too loud. Please, don't carry this grief like you carried the rest. Love, laugh, and live for both of us. You aren't broken, Emily. Thank you for seeing me. Goodbye. I fell to my knees, screaming his name into the silence. Jordan was gone. But standing by the water where I once wanted to end my life, I realized the true gift. He had taught me how to feel again. Now, I am alive, not forgetting him, but honoring his memory.