Two weeks had passed. Fourteen days stretched into a dreary, gray eternity. Time had lost its familiar structure for Seline, becoming a viscous substance where morning blended into evening, and nights were long and hopeless.
Her world had shrunk to the size of a small apartment shrouded in dust and unwashed dishes. The air hung heavy, as if saturated with sorrow and melancholy. The curtains were half-drawn, admitting only pitiful rays of light that didn't illuminate but merely emphasized the gloom.
Seline sat—or rather, existed—on the edge of the sofa, wrapped in an old, stretched blanket the color of wet asphalt. It was beneath this blanket that she tried to hide, to shelter herself from the world, returning each day from university. Her golden hair, usually shining with cleanliness, was now dull and tied back in a messy, tangled ponytail.
Her face seemed paler than usual, with dark crescents under eyes that stared blankly into the emptiness before her. Her gaze was glassy, unfocused. An open textbook lay before her, but the letters swam, refusing to form words. Meaning slipped away like water through fingers.
Studying had become torture. She skipped lectures. On the rare occasions she made it to class, she sat detached, not listening to the professor and not participating in discussions. From a top student whose academic performance was held up as an example, she’d plummeted to "just passing."
Her world had narrowed to a single point – the memory of him. Of his calm, confident stride. Of his eyes, black as the night itself, that had looked at her differently than anyone else ever had. With protection? Interest? Of how his cold fingers had closed around her trembling hand. Of how he’d saved her life.
And of how she had run away. Disappeared behind the iron door of her building entrance. Like an idiot.
This thought lodged itself like a nail in her brain, triggering fresh waves of profound frustration. She was angry. But she didn't know at whom more.
"He forgot. I was just a fleeting episode for him. Saved me – and forgot. I ruined everything. We'll never see each other again". These words spun in an endless, exhausting carousel in her head. The future seemed an endless gray plain, devoid of landmarks or meaning.
She couldn't stand being outside for long. A walk after university? No. Faster home. Faster to hide. Evening? Even worse. Stepping out after sunset triggered fear that rose like a lump in her throat. But it wasn't just fear of attack that drove her back within four walls. Every dim streetlight, every dark alley on the way to university or the store painfully reminded her of *that* night. Reminded her of him. Without him, the world seemed hostile, vast, and terrifyingly empty. She was already shy, but now this trait was elevated to an absolute. And if not with him, then with whom? She had no friends, no brothers, no sisters. No one to pull her out of this gray world. She had lost her parents in a distant childhood, in a car accident.
Only her uncle, her father's brother, had taken guardianship. But it couldn't be called care; it was more like a duty to his deceased brother. He didn't give her attention or time; he simply existed. A man who left in the morning and returned late at night. Often drunk. In that state, he saw her only as a catalyst for memories of his brother; he blamed her for his death and often, in drunken delirium, voiced his thoughts and beat her.
And as soon as she finished school, entered university, and moved into the apartment her parents had willed to her while they were still alive, her uncle vanished. But the constant beatings had left an indelible mark. Perhaps that was why she couldn't stand being touched. Because every time someone touched her, she felt guilt and pain.
She stopped believing and trusting people, shunned them, and avoided them. Any communication was minimized. Her classmates had long since stopped trying to befriend her and shunned her too. She didn't pay it any mind. It was even more comfortable that way. But not now. Now, less than anything in the world, she wanted to be alone.
*Buzz… Buzz… Buzz…*
The sound was sharp, intrusive, like the crack of a whip in the silence. The vibration of the phone lying on the sofa beside her thigh sent a fine tremor through her numb body. Seline blinked, slowly, as if awakening from a long sleep. "Who was it? Another loan offer? Spam?"
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A weak, apathetic irritation stirred somewhere deep inside. Reluctantly, as if her limbs were filled with lead, she reached for the device. Her eyes remained half-closed, her gaze sliding over the bright screen and…
…stopping.
An unknown phone number flashed on the screen. Not the bank. Not the clothing store with its constant discounts. Not a classmate asking about homework. A message banner from a number she’d never seen before.
From: Unknown
Message: want to take a walk? Dan.
“No,” she thought and tossed the phone back onto the sofa. “don’t want to… Dan…”
Silence. “Dan?!”
“Huh?!” With cat-like agility, she snatched back the phone she’d just discarded and gripped it in a death grip, greedily reading every letter in the message from the unknown sender. Her heart first clenched into an icy knot, then burst into a frantic, wild dance. Her breath caught. Heat flooded her face, instantly replaced by icy sweat. Goosebumps ran over her skin.
From: Unknown
Message: want to take a walk? Dan.
“AAAAAH! HE TEXTED?! HE TEXTED! HE REMEMBERED ME?!”
“Two weeks!!! Two damn weeks! And just: 'Want to take a walk?'?! Of course I want to! Why even ask? A little longer and I would've grown roots into this sofa!” Panic washed over her. “Why only now? Was he with others? Probably beautiful and confident ones... Did they all say no, so he remembered me?!”
“Stop! What if… he couldn't? What if he had things to do? Maybe he was looking for me all this time? And just found my number and… and… texted right away…?” A smoldering spark of hope flickered, swelling into a weak but warm little flame.
She reached for the keyboard, her fingers trembling feverishly.
Draft: "Decided to show up?? TWO weeks gone.... remembered me? What, other girls said no?!"
“Idiot!” – the thought pierced her brain like a knife. – “What other girls…! you know nothing about him! Seline, you idiot, don't ruin everything this time at least!”
She deleted the angry text. Contradicting her own last thought, she started typing a new message, stumbling, her fingers fumbling:
Draft: "How did you get my number?"
“Aah! Idiot, Seline you utter idiot!” – she groaned inwardly, pressing her palm to her forehead, feeling fury at herself pulsing under her skin, “You just decided you know nothing, and besides… he owes you nothing...and it doesn't matter where he got my number, the main thing is that he has it now! Pull yourself together!”
Deleted again. A deep, ragged breath. Emptiness in her head. And suddenly – a realization, striking with stunning, almost painful clarity:
“You like him! Him?! I barely even know him! Of course I like him!”
How else to explain this hell of the last weeks? She never paid much attention to men before, but now she couldn't look at them at all, afraid of betraying that single moment of Dan's attention. She stopped going out in the evenings not just out of fear of the street, but because without him, everything seemed empty, pointless, devoid of meaning.
Deep breath. Deleted everything she'd written again. Afraid that an extra word, an extra letter would scare him off, just like she’d scared him off at the door that time. Concentrated. Full control. Her trembling finger seemed to have a life of its own, typing one short, decisive word:
Sent: "Want"
The phone slipped from her hands, landing softly on the sofa. Seline squeezed her eyes shut, pressed her palms to her face, feeling how damp and cold they were. Then she grabbed the collar of her sweater and buried her head inside it. Emptiness, like after a long cry. And immediately – a new wave of adrenaline, crazy, overwhelming, sweet and bitter at the same time. “What if he… doesn’t reply? Maybe I shouldn’t have answered so curtly and coldly? What if…”
Buzz… Buzz… Buzz…
The reply came almost instantly. As if he’d been sitting there, staring at the screen, waiting for exactly that word.
She lunged for the phone, nearly dropping it again. Her heart froze in anticipation and fear.
From: Dan
Message: ok, tonight.
"Tonight" Seline reread the received message eight times to convince herself it wasn't a dream.
And finally, reading it for the ninth time, came the understanding:
“He replied… He’s coming… Today!” – a wave of wild relief washed away some of the tension, allowing her to take her first full breath in what felt like five minutes. But immediately, a new, icy wave of panic hit: “And tonight – when is that?! What to wear?” Her thoughts raced, colliding and splintering. “I look awful! My hair hangs like a rag and my face… God, my face looks like a truck ran over it!”
She darted to the mirror in the hallway, almost slipping on scattered belongings. Her reflection struck her self-esteem: a pale ghost, with sunken eyes in deep purple circles, framed by dull, disheveled hair.
“What a horror… Who are you? No. This won’t do!”
But deep within those eyes, beneath the weariness and traces of tears, a new fire flared – a fire of incredible resolve. “Shower first! Everything else later!”
She pressed the phone to her chest like a talisman and stared at her reflection.
"Tonight." One word, ringing and relentless, hung in the air like both a sentence and a promise. Time, which had dragged like molasses, suddenly surged forward at a terrifying speed. “How much time do I have? Hours? Minutes?” To come alive. To stop being a ghost.
War had been declared. War with her own reflection.