You look around the room, heart hammering in your chest. Your gaze landed on the empty seat next to you, and your blood turns to ice. There, shimmering faintly in the dying light, sits a figure – Aisha. Her ghostly form, barely discernible, seems to seep out of the shadows. Her face is buried in her hands, her shoulders racked with silent sobs, the soundless wails echoing through the quiet classroom like a sad song.
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