A Night in Ilbretsava

I

How strange! You bumped into Mrs. Liva, your lecturer, at the park this morning? What were you doing there? You saw her dressed in a tight shirt and jeans, but then she covered up with a long coat. It is summer, isn't it? That was odd. Even stranger, the lake was frozen. Yet, somehow, a couple of ducks were swimming on it, and a tree inexplicably bloomed with spring colors, even boasting a beautiful Sakura branch. Why weren't you going closer to it?

Instinctively, you reached for Mrs. Liva's hand, eager to share the beauty of the blooming Sakura trees. The setting sun, ablaze with vibrant hues of blue and red, cast a warm glow on the scene. As you turned to speak, your breath hitched. The woman beside you wasn't Mrs. Liva! A jolt of shock coursed through you as recognition dawned - it was Gina, the Belarusian girl who had so cruelly broken your heart.

Gina smiled at you and reciprocated your handhold. She pulled you closer to the Sakura tree. There, she gazed at your face with a passionate look. You were speechless. To your even greater surprise, Gina confessed her love for you. She then wrapped her arms around you tightly, as if she never wanted to let you go. You could feel the warmth of her embrace enveloping your entire body, bringing comfort.

Wasn't she the woman who had dumped you disrespectfully? She left without a word and married a man out of the blue. They even traveled around Europe and took pictures in front of the Taj Mahal, the symbol of eternal love. Then, they shared moments of them kissing, hugging, and holding hands there with the world. Yes. You had witnessed it all.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reminisced about the joyous moments you once shared with Gina. However, the book of memories had been reduced to ashes, buried deep within the chambers of your mind, often leading you to a sense of hopelessness.

Ten seconds later, you heard a faint whisper in your ear, the words unintelligible. The entire scene dissolved – Gina, the lake, the Sakura trees, the unusual sun – everything vanished. You were plunged into darkness, the woman's voice still echoing in the distance.

Shaken by Gina's sudden appearance, tears streamed down your cheeks. The woman's voice grew louder, taking on a seductive tone, smooth and almost flirtatious. She leaned closer, whispering in your ear in a way that sent shivers down your spine. A gentle touch grazed your knee, sending a wave of goosebumps erupting over your skin.

Just as you were processing these unnerving sensations, the voice abruptly shifted, morphing into a deep, masculine one. Panic surged through you. A man? Were you being touched by a man? This was turning into a full-blown moment. To top it all off, a searing pain suddenly shot through your leg, rendering it immobile. You were trapped, unable to react.

A whirlwind of emotions engulfed you – hatred, anger, sadness, and pain. They crashed over you in an overwhelming wave, demanding to be released. Unable to contain them any longer, you let out a primal scream, flailing your arms towards the perceived source of the male voice. Your blows met only air.

Gradually, your eyes fluttered open, revealing the spinning ceiling of your bedroom. The harsh glare of the bedside lamp threatened to pierce your skull. Had it all been a terrifying nightmare?

A groan escaped your lips as you realized your leg was hanging off the edge of the bed. A sharp pain shot through your body, forcing you to gasp. For a few moments, you tried to straighten your leg, but the excruciating pain made any movement impossible. As you raised your hand to wipe away the tears streaming down your face, your fingers brushed against your damp cheeks, confirming that you had indeed been crying.

Your heart hammered in your chest, still reeling from the unsettling nightmare. As you gently massaged your throbbing leg, a sharp pain speared through your head, like a thousand needles pricking it simultaneously. What an awful way to begin the day.

You struggle to sit up, propping your head up higher. "Ugh..." you groan, continuing to massage your aching leg. You look up at the ceiling, groaning in pain from your headache. You gasp for air as you try to reach for your smartphone. Where could it be? You can't find it around you. Under the pillow? No luck.

Your body slumps back onto the bed. You try to sleep again, but as you close your eyes, the world seems to spin. Groaning, you open your eyes, unable to return to sleep. You change position to lie on your stomach. Slowly but surely, your eyelids begin to droop. You drift back off to the dream.

II

"Hey Lucas, meet Aldra!" Matt said, introducing the new arrival to his business partner. Matt is a wealthy guy who works as an antique dealer here in town. Lucas, on the other hand, is a successful entrepreneur with diverse ventures. One of them is Atractvative, a fancy restaurant located on Glamour Street, a prestigious area known for its high-end establishments.

"Sorry, I'm late." Aldra apologized to Matt. He was supposed to arrive 30 minutes before the event. But as usual, He often took a long time to "get ready." Whether it was forgetting where he put his shirt or his smartphone suddenly "disappearing." There was even a time when he was lost in his own thoughts and did nothing for five minutes!

Aldra, the thirty-year-old young man, had been working as a part-time interior designer for six years. Matt had recruited him for a job to renovate his new antique gallery about two years ago. The relationship between Aldra and Matt was actually nothing more than that of a service provider and a client. However, Matt often invited him to attend some events, including the opening night of his new gallery. And now it was his birthday.

The party was in full swing at Lucas's residence. Lucas and Matt were incredibly close, so much so that their closest friends had begun to suspect their relationship was more than just a business partnership. Their gestures hinted at a deeper connection. They would playfully tease each other, even embracing warmly in front of the guests.

Lucas frequently purchased antiques from Matt's gallery. Some were kept in his home, while others were displayed in his private office and restaurant. Not only that, three months ago, Lucas had won an auction for an ancient Persian pottery vessel worth $50,000! Where was it now? On display in Matt's gallery.

In honor of Matt's birthday, Lucas went all out to ensure the success of the celebration. Atractvative was entrusted with catering the entire event, providing a delectable spread of food and exquisite wines. The team comprised impeccably dressed servers, internationally certified chefs, and gracious hosts who ensured a warm and welcoming atmosphere for all guests.

"Lucas, do you remember the interior designer I've been telling you about?" Matt gestured towards Aldra, who stood nearby.

"Ah, yes... it's a pleasure to meet you, man. Your work is truly remarkable. The gallery is absolutely captivating!"

Aldra merely smiled, graciously accepting their compliments.

"Please... enjoy the evening!" Matt urged Aldra, before rising with Lucas to greet other guests.

Aldra embarked on a culinary adventure, sampling nearly every dish on offer, from the renowned Gobermann fish buffet to delectable Italian pasta. He concluded his exquisite dinner with a glass of fragrant and flavorful wine. Suddenly, a giggle tickled his ear. He realized that Huram and Barcus, his close college friends, were standing beside him.

"Calm down, mate! Don't forget your cigarette!" Huram reminded him.

"Ahh yes, bro. that's right," Aldra acknowledged, reaching into his sling bag to retrieve a pack of newly purchased cigarettes. Once full, he now lit one.

Unbeknownst to him, Aldra, along with his two friends, had consumed an unknown number of wine and cigarettes, as they burst into uncontrollable laughter. They were seated on the stairs leading to Lucas's mansion's lobby, oblivious to the numerous party guests passing by. Some bowed slightly as they passed, as if saying, "Excuse me! I'd like to pass." An elderly woman in an elegant gown even cast a disapproving glance at them. Perhaps she thought to herself, "These uncouth young men!"

III

A suffocating weight pressed down upon your chest, forcing your face into the pillow. You tried to struggle, but your body remained paralyzed, unable to move even a single centimeter. Ancient folklore claimed that malevolent spirits would often oppress sleepers who neglected to pray before bed. But hadn't you drifted off for the second time in broad daylight? Ah, that's right. You had no idea what time it was. And surely, supernatural entities didn't adhere to a strict schedule when tormenting their victims!

A wave of panic washed over you as you struggled for breath. You vaguely recalled your mother's advice to remain calm and gently shift positions if you were ever experiencing "sleep paralysis." How could you possibly remember that when you were completely unconscious? After a strenuous battle against the "supernatural entity" that had pinned you down, you finally managed to gasp in a precious breath of fresh air. You rolled onto your back, hoping to escape back into the realm of dreams. But instead, you found yourself staring wide-eyed at your surroundings, your mind still reeling from the ordeal.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, as if you had just sprinted across a vast field. Cold sweat trickled down your body, leaving a clammy trail in its wake. The throbbing ache in your head persisted, intensifying with each passing moment. You tried to rise from the bed, but your body refused to cooperate. All you could manage was to sit slumped on the edge of the mattress, groaning softly as you clutched your head in an attempt to alleviate the pain.

As you struggled to regain your composure, a wave of discomfort washed over your body. Your stomach churned with nausea, and the sensation of a full bladder added to your distress. With a heavy heart, you slowly rose from the bed, reaching for the doorknob. Emerging from the room, you stumbled towards the bathroom, your body swaying precariously. Several times you nearly lost your balance, unsure of what you were tripping over. The hallway floor was a smooth, level expanse of polished wooden parquet.

Upon reaching the bathroom, you hastily slipped down your pants and lowered yourself onto the toilet seat. The contents of your bowels and bladder emptied simultaneously, providing a momentary sense of relief. However, the throbbing pain in your head intensified, causing your vision to blur and your nausea to surge. A heaving convulsion racked your body, and vomit erupted uncontrollably. It splattered across the floor and soaked a sickening patch onto your shirt. Utterly drained, you slumped back onto the seat, every ounce of energy stolen.

With a weary body, you rinsed your backside with water. But your work was not over yet. You still had to clean up the vomit that was scattered on the floor. You also needed to wash your vomit-stained shirt before putting it in the washing machine. Without hesitation, you stripped down in the bathroom. First, you cleaned the floor, then moved to the sink to gargle and clean your mouth. You looked at your reflection in the mirror: dark under-eye bags, red eyes, a listless expression, messy thick hair, and a pale, sickly complexion. Occasionally, a small groan escaped your lips due to the pain in your head. You wiped your face a few times with water. Then, a thought crossed your mind, "Why not take a shower while I'm at it?"

You stepped into the shower stall. The water gushed out, drenching your head. You flinched at the cold sensation that enveloped your body. Enduring the throbbing pain in your head, you continued showering. You lathered your thin body and face with soap. You longed to rush back to bed and close your eyes again, hoping it would ease the ache in your head. However, your stomach growled. Summoning you with a grumble, it said, "Hey! Do you not need to eat apparently?! Have something to eat right away!"

When you finished showering, you stepped out of the stall feeling disoriented. Oh, right, you forgot to bring a towel. What would you use to dry yourself off? There was your used shirt lying on the floor. But it was already wet. There was also a bath mat, but did you want to equate your body with the floor? Of course not. There was also toilet paper nearby. But you could end up using a whole roll to dry yourself off. You then looked towards the towel rack on the bathroom door. A small towel hung there. You immediately used it to dry yourself, even though you knew it wasn't enough to dry your entire body.

Wait a minute. Didn't you use that towel two days ago to wipe your genitals after masturbating? How disgusting! Oh well. It didn't matter, it was already dry, even though it was soiled with your lust!

IV

It was a cloudy evening, and Aldra was strolling casually after doing his work and lunch at the café. This was perhaps one of his favorite places: a former colonial house with unique Art Deco architecture from the early 20th century. The beauty of it brought him a sense of joy; what a delight it was. The architect clearly had a deep understanding of design, creating such a beautiful home. Not only that, but the layout was also well-thought-out, with a clear distinction between private spaces and areas for social gatherings. However, he knew he should hurry. Other customers were waiting for a table. So, he packed up his things, placed them in his bag, and left the café.

He doesn’t even remember what time it is, what schedule he has, or the appointments he made. He forgets it all. The only thing he focused on today was working at the café. For him, work is his top priority. He’s unsure of what his ultimate goal is—it's not money, but perhaps he feels motivated when he's working. However, at times, this intense focus leads to exhaustion, even to the point of illness.

Aldra is not the type of person who prioritizes maintaining his health. He doesn’t exercise in the morning or engage in sports. The last time he participated in any physical activity was in high school. After picking up the habit of smoking, he stopped taking part in intense exercise altogether. His love for cigarettes has become stronger than anything else. They are his constant companion—whether he’s watching a movie, working, or socializing, cigarettes are always by his side.

He doesn’t know how many cigarettes he smoked during his time at the café—perhaps half a pack—but it doesn't matter to him. Cigarettes are precious, helping him stay focused and inspired, or so he claims. Aldra doesn’t care how many cigarettes he smokes; when he runs out, he buys more. It’s a cycle that continues endlessly. His bag always contains cigarettes and a lighter. Once, he forgot to bring money but needed to buy cigarettes from a convenience store 200 meters from his house. Reluctantly, he had to walk almost a kilometer back and forth to get money from home just to get it. Since he’s not a sports enthusiast, it could be said that his effort was a kind of “exercise.”

He walked alone, surrounded by many pedestrians, as this was a busy area of the city. The district is also a popular tourist destination in the old town, with colonial-era buildings—some well-preserved, some replaced by newer structures, and others dilapidated and abandoned. This may be the part of the city that has experienced the most significant development. Indeed, it is a large city, the capital of Drevana, named Ilbretsava, the fourth-largest city in the country. With a population of around 4.5 million, the city is quite densely populated. People from the early 20th century could hardly have imagined that the city would experience such a population boom. Once a small town designed by the colonial government to accommodate only 200,000 to 300,000 people, it has transformed into one of the country’s major metropolitan areas. Many migrants from surrounding towns and rural areas came here seeking a better life, settled, and raised families. Over the years, this migration has only intensified. Yet, perhaps the local government could have done more to prevent it.

Aldra himself never really thought about it. He didn’t care. Sometimes he complained about the traffic, but in reality, he wasn't concerned about the city’s population. To him, this was a place offering interesting sights to observe while walking down the street. It was the people—those sitting by the roadside with gestures often overlooked—that caught his attention. Some would be lost in thought on a bench, staring at the ground, while others leaned against a streetlight, unknowingly exposing part of their clothing, perhaps because the heat of the day was intense. These were the people Aldra found interesting to observe—not those wearing fancy clothes, suits, or driving luxury cars, but the ordinary folks: a street cleaner, a taxi driver, or those simply hanging out by the roadside. These were the people often ignored by the majority.

Then, an elderly man, perhaps in his 60s, called out to him. “Oi, dude,” Aldra turned toward him. The man was a stranger. His clothes were worn, and he was carrying a plastic bag that appeared to be full of something. “Young man, please help me,” the old man said as he walked closer.

“Yes, sir,” Aldra replied.

“Please, young man… I need to get back home. Could you spare me some money for the bus?” he continued.

“I wish I could help you, but pardon me, sir, I didn’t hold any cash…” Aldra said to that man honestly.

"Ah, poor you, young man!" the old man exclaimed as he walked away, leaving Aldra behind.

This wasn't the first time Aldra had experienced something like this. He had once been approached by a woman who suddenly offered him a bunch of bananas. Another time, an elderly man dressed like a war veteran had asked for charity. It was a common phenomenon in the city, where people used various tactics to earn easy money. They might claim they needed it for medicine, to get back home, or just for food. In the end, it didn’t matter much to Aldra. He would help them if he had cash on hand.

Aldra was about to continue his walk when something caught his attention—a man shouting from a distance. He turned to see the old man being yelled at by a young guy and his girlfriend. The young guy appeared well-off, evident from his branded clothing and the iPhone 5 in his hand. His girlfriend, who seemed quite attractive, wore black eyeglasses along with gold earrings and a necklace. They likely came from a wealthy background.

The incident quickly attracted the attention of people nearby. However, as the crowd gathered, the couple simply walked away, leaving the old man. What happened next, though, was a display of solidarity. People began offering help—some gave him food, money, and water. A young man, dressed in a suit and likely on his way to work, stopped to assist the old man to calm himself. Yet, there were others who seemed to take pleasure in the moment of humiliation. They pulled out their phones, recorded the scene, and probably shared it on social media—an all-too-common reaction when something catches the public’s attention.

At that moment, Aldra felt a pang of guilt. He wished he had cash to help the old man, thinking that if he had, the old man might not have suffered such humiliation. But time had already passed, and it wasn't Aldra’s fault. Looking around, Aldra saw many hands reaching out to help the elderly man, who soon regained his strength. Perhaps, with the help of others, the old man would be able to buy a bus ticket to return to his hometown and reunite with his family.

For Aldra, the humiliation was not only experienced by the old man, but also by the couple. This came from those who chose to record the incident instead of offering help. The young couple may have acted irresponsibly toward the elderly man, but those who stood by, recording the scene—occasionally shouting, and then sharing the video on social media—were also guilty of similar behavior, albeit with different intentions. They may have believed they were showing "solidarity," portraying the old man as a victim and the couple as wrongdoers. But is that truly the case? No one can know for sure. The old man simply needed money to get home, if that was indeed his situation, and yet he was rejected by the couple.

However, it became a problem when bystanders decided to involve themselves in the incident. The issue arose when people felt the need to take sides. Instead of offering help, some seemed to benefit from sharing the humiliation with the world, portraying the young couple as the villains.

Aldra's mind was filled with these thoughts—not only his regret but also the image of the couple, who had now become victims of harsh social media users. But again, this wasn’t really Aldra’s concern. He had wasted two minutes of his time just to witness something that ultimately had no connection to him anymore.

V

Is your head still spinning? Ah, it’s getting worse, isn’t it? You’re back in your room, naked and still wet, but don’t worry—no one is home. However, the problem arises now that you're in the room. You need to grab a towel to dry off, but it’s hanging outside on the balcony. Do you want Mrs. Dorna, your elderly neighbor, to see you exposed? Of course not. So, you quickly grab your sarong to cover your lower body and walk to the balcony.

After you dry off your body, you head to the wardrobe and quickly put on some clothes. You remember that you need to have breakfast and find something to relieve your headache. So, you head downstairs to the dining room. There, you find that your mother has prepared breakfast. You grab a plate, serve yourself some rice, and sit down at the dining table. You take some beef, soup, and tofu, then start your meal. However, you stop eating as your headache intensifies.

You feel like you can't take it anymore and begin to search for medication. But you cannot find the pills you need in the medicine cabinet. You consider going to your parents' room, thinking your mother might have stored some in her personal supply. But before you make it there, your body feels too weak. So, you lie down on the sofa and try to close your eyes. It’s pitch black, and you see nothing but darkness. But then, some beautiful colors start to spin above you. You begin to groan in pain. Unable to endure it any longer, you force yourself to stand and stagger toward your parents' room.

Once there, you realize you have no idea where your mother’s personal aid box is kept. You search everywhere—on her vanity, in the drawers, and through the wardrobe. Why didn’t you just ask her? That thought crosses your mind. You decide to head back to your room, but then you realize you don’t even know where your phone is. You search your bed, beneath the blanket and pillow—nothing. You check your desk—still nothing. Then, you think it might be in your bag. Ah, yes—finally, you find your phone, but it’s out of battery. You plug it in to charge and wait for it to turn on. Once it does, you notice several messages and a missed call. You ignore them all because the most important thing you need to do right now is call or message your mom.

It may take some time for your mother to reply, so you decide to return to your parents' bedroom and continue searching for the medicine box. You end up in their private bathroom, where you find a mirror cabinet above a sink. You open it, and there it is—a medicine box. You begin searching for the painkillers you need, and fortunately, there’s still one left. You head straight to the dining table and take the pill. You let out a sigh of relief, feeling that the pain in your head will soon subside.

Reward your efforts with a cup of coffee, my friend. You brew a cup of black coffee, no sugar. Suddenly, you remember that you haven't finished your breakfast from earlier. You decide to continue, even if just a little. You return to your room with your coffee and head straight for the balcony. There, you reach into your bag to grab your cigarette pack. Opening it, you see only five cigarettes left. You light one up, and now you're down to four.

The pain in your head gradually fades as you sip your coffee and smoke your cigarette, alternating between the two. It seems that life is starting to feel a bit calmer now. Once you finish your cigarette, you return to your room to check your phone again. It seems your mom still hasn't replied. You scroll through your messages, trying to reply to your friends. You don't even care whether they send or not; you just continue scrolling through social media. It’s Instagram, isn’t it? You scroll through a bunch of images in about 20 seconds—selfies, sports, architecture, art, design, and people promoting products: all the same kind of contents. Suddenly, you stop when you see her: Gina. Yes, that post is what has hurt you. There she is, with her husband. A wave of envy hits you, and you quickly close it.

You begin to complain to yourself, questioning the unfairness of the past. But nothing can change it. Nothing, my friend. It's her presence that pulls you back into the beautiful memories you once shared. She left you and chose that other guy instead. As a man, hurt yet determined to stand on your own, you try to regain control. But sometimes, the memory of her drags you back into darkness, weakening you from within. It's not about the mistakes you made or the foolish decisions either of you took; it's about accepting reality. If you seek an answer from God, it lies within that very reality. You will never know everything about it. You only open your heart and mind to a small fragment of the truth. And because of that, there are many parts of reality that remain unknown to you. As for Gina's decisions or the man she married, you can't know the full reasons behind them, and you don't wish to dig deeper. After all, none of it holds value for you anymore.

Your mind starts to spin, trying to recollect the memories and find where you went wrong. But you find no mistakes—perhaps it's just your ego, justifying your "right" to ignore the truth. You ask yourself, "Did I make a mistake?" But remember, your friends have already told you it wasn’t your fault, nor Gina’s. It’s the world itself, acting according to its own will, if you believe in that. Gina made her choice, her own decision about who she should be with. If it wasn’t you, why are you still holding on?

It's okay. You step back onto the balcony, leaving those foolish thoughts behind, and light another cigarette. You have only three left.

VI

Nothing excites Aldra more today than finally receiving his final payment from Matt for his work. To celebrate, he invites Huram and Barcus out for some beer. "This is on me, my friends," he says to his two best friends. At the bar, quiet and peaceful that night, they drink and share stories. Aldra also tells them about his experience working with Matt.

But then, three ladies walk in through the bar door. One of them, with blonde hair and blue eyes, is wearing a very casual dress. She doesn’t seem like she's from the neighborhood, but she certainly catches Aldra’s attention. A beautiful young woman, probably in her 20s, out for the night with her two friends, sharing the same evening as these three young men.

“What do you think, Al?” Huram asks. Aldra replies, still unaware of the conversation, “Ahh, well, I’m sorry… what did you say?” Huram glances at the ladies. “Ah, I see. That’s what caught your attention…”

“Yeah, she’s beautiful,” Barcus adds.

“Do you know her, Barc?” Aldra asks, curious.

“Hmmm, some friends might. They said she works at Atractvative. Maybe Matt or Lucas knows her. But why don’t you ask her?”

“Haha… for what?”

“Come on, Al. You’ve got beer, you’ve got your payment, go on… say something to her!”

Without them noticing, Huram is already have conversation with the ladies. They seem to be having a conversation that can’t be heard clearly, but their laughter fills the air.

“Ahh, ladies… these are my two friends,” Huram says, and the ladies smile at Barcus and Aldra. It’s clear that Huram wants his friends to join him and the girls, but Aldra seems hesitant. Barcus, however, is quick to get up from the table and introduce himself to the girls.

“Oi, Al, come over here… they want to meet you,” Barcus says, inviting Aldra to join them.

Huram walks over to Aldra, places a hand on his shoulder, and gently drags him toward the ladies.

“Sorry, ladies. This is Aldra. He’s an interior designer,” Huram introduces him.

Aldra shakes hands with the ladies, introducing himself. He reaches the hand of one of the girls.

“Aldra,” he says. She smiles, and with a genuine gaze, she replies, “Hey, I’m GINA…”

VII

You suddenly wake up as if something from your dream has shocked you. Was it the nightmare of the man who gently touched you again? Your breath is heavy, your pulse racing. You groan, but not because of the headache—something else is making you do it. You hold your forehead and continue groaning.

It's her, isn't it? Ah, man, you're still holding onto thoughts of her. But it's just a fantasy. Is it because you saw her picture on Instagram earlier? Her image keeps coming to your mind, sparking the urge to imagine things about her again. This is the kind of thing that makes you question yourself! This is the reality, my friend. That platform you're looking at is flooded with people sharing their happiness. Indeed, it’s a world of positivity, designed to make others feel joy. But we know you'll likely view it with negativity, maybe even cynicism. There’s a value of happiness in their posts that might be different from yours. Gina, or her husband, might hold that value and share it. This space may not be for you—someone who, on the other hand, chooses not to share your achievements. Perhaps those who engage in it feel pressured, as this is seen as the "achievement" platform.

Without saying a word, you rise from your bed and head to the balcony for a cigarette. Ah, there’s still some coffee left in the cup, but it’s cold now. What time is it? You stare at the dark, overcast sky. Perhaps it will rain soon.

Wait, before you light up another cigarette, remember there are only three lefts in the pack. You always need more when you're working. Yes, you’ll need to buy another pack. Just as you decide to grab some money to buy a new pack, the rain starts. It's a heavy downpour. If you need to go out now, you'll definitely need an umbrella. But it might be a hassle since the minimarket is 200 meters away.

Okay, you decide to go. It’s time to find an umbrella or maybe your raincoat. Since you're always prepared for rainy days, you never forget to pack either an umbrella or a raincoat in your bag. Or at least, that’s what you thought. But when you check, you find nothing. Ah, now you remember—your cheap plastic raincoat broke, and you already threw it away. As for the umbrella, the last time you used it, you left it with Mr. Dun when both of you were doing a survey in another city for the company you work for.

Poor you. You head downstairs to look for an umbrella, but they're all gone. Perhaps your father, mother, and sister each took one. It’s been the rainy season, so everyone needs to be prepared, just like you. Since there’s no umbrella left, you decide to stay home and get some work done. There’s another project you received two days ago, and your client wants it completed within a month. So, without postponing it any longer, you get to work. You pick up your pen, place the paper on your architectural drawing board, and begin sketching out some designs. It might just work, if you concentrate. But well, you need a cigarette, so you light up one of your last three. Now, there are only two lefts.

You focus on your work now—no thoughts of Gina, no memories of her. But we both know; she’s left something behind in you. Since she left, your life has changed. Even with all the negative thoughts about her, or the blame you place on yourself, it has led you to immerse yourself in your job. You’ve been driven by it, even if you refuse to admit it. That drive pushes you to accomplish more than you realize. And now, there’s simply no time to dwell on the "dead memories" of her.

So, what time is it? You check your phone—it's 5 PM. You've managed to get through your work without smoking a single cigarette. And now, to reward yourself, you grab one from the pack and finish your coffee while enjoying the heavy rain, which shows no sign of stopping anytime soon. Then, you realize there’s just one cigarette left.

As the music continues to play in your room, you start to think. It's still raining outside, but you need to buy more cigarettes. So, you head downstairs to the basement and look for an umbrella. There are two umbrellas there, but both are broken.

It’s getting dark, and you’re still searching for any hope that there might be an umbrella left at home. The thunder rumbles, and all you can hear from the basement is the rustling sound of heavy rain pouring down. You head back up to the ground floor, turn on the lights, close the windows and curtains, and then—ah, you realize you haven’t had lunch yet, have you?

There’s still plenty of food on the dining table, and some rice left in the rice cooker. Of course, it’s not enough for you because you’re very hungry. The reason is that you didn’t finish your brunch earlier due to a headache and the need to find some painkillers. But it doesn’t matter—maybe there’s some bread in the cabinet. You open it and find nothing. Perhaps there are some fruits or something else you can cook in the refrigerator. Ah, there’s an egg. Maybe you can make some instant noodles with an egg.

But wait— the basket where your mom always keeps the instant noodles is empty. Ah, man, what a bummer. But don’t be sad; you can still cook the egg, use some of that food, and the rice... Ta-da! Your meal is ready. It’s enough to hold you over for a couple of hours, at least, before you can have a snack.

VIII

It’s been a month since Aldra and Gina have been together. What a beautiful couple they make: young, sharing the same interests, and full of passion. It seems their love is blossoming. Today is the day they will celebrate another date. What a lucky guy Aldra is to have earned the trust of such a beautiful woman.

Huram and Barcus could never have imagined that their friend would take this step and find success in his romantic relationship. Look at them, smiling in that café, a lovely place to enjoy a quality latte—and, of course, Aldra can smoke there. Can you guess where? His favorite café in the colonial building, of course. It’s a place full of memories for him, and now, another beautiful chapter of his story has been added there.

Aldra may not realize that Gina has a surprise prepared for him—a surprise he never expected. It’s a special gift just for him. But he isn’t hoping for anything in particular. What matters most to him is simply spending time with her, just the two of them, without the guys or the ladies. Gina spoke to him softly, with warmth in her voice, “It’s been a month since we started hanging out together, and today is really special to me. Look at that umbrella. Oh, Aldra, you just took it from the gallery.”

“Hahaha… sorry! I’ll return it tomorrow. It’s special to me too. I mean, we’ve walked a kilometer in the rain, right? Hahaha, what a silly thing to do.” Aldra replied with his usual playful style, adding a simple joke.

Maybe it’s his jokes that keep them together. He’s a rare type of man—the kind who uses humor to comfort someone he loves. Jokes aren’t always easy to make, especially when you're with the woman you care about. But Aldra can embrace it. He effortlessly turns anything into a joke for her. Of course, his own life is not something to joke about or take lightly.

So, they were discussing the exhibition they had just seen at the Versa Gallery. It was a big exhibition—lots of creativity, passion, and aesthetic. But Gina, in particular, was most enthusiastic about the gallery's collection. She’s a history enthusiast. She’s always dreamed of being a great painter, but her job is as a researcher. It doesn’t seem to align with her internship at Atractvative, working as a designer. Yes, she can design. She’s a highly talented woman, someone Aldra truly values and wants to hold onto: she can do art, design, writes.

"I want to go away for a while, maybe two weeks. Some friends have invited me to join them. It’s a break from work." This was what she wanted to share with him. No expectations—Aldra didn’t expect to join her. He wasn’t worried, but he seemed a bit cautious.

"That sounds good. You definitely need a holiday," Aldra replied.

"Yes, but don’t worry. We can still stay in touch, okay?" Gina reassured him.

“But there’s a problem…” Gina speak with concern.

“What’s the problem?”

“There’s a man.”

“A man? Who? Me?”

“No… someone you don’t need to know. He’s just… coming with us.” Who is this man? Gina didn’t make it clear, but she seemed concerned about him. “Hah… Sam. It must be Sam, right?” Aldra replied.

Before they got together, Gina had met a man named Sam at work. Sam was a talented designer, with more projects under his belt than Aldra. This didn’t mean Aldra wasn’t as skilled, but perhaps their starting points were simply different. For Gina, she and Sam were just friends—nothing more. However, when they first met, Gina may have seen something different in him. But after spending more time together, Gina realized that Sam wasn’t someone she deserved to be with.

This isn’t a competition between the two men, Sam and Aldra, both trying to win her heart. It’s her decision.

“But I feel more comfortable with you, Al…” These simple words struck Aldra’s heart like a bolt of lightning. He should feel grateful for that. Thanks for Gina’s will!

“Sam, he’s a good guy… I mean, he has a bright future, while mine, well, maybe I’m still figuring things out…”

“You’re both interesting, but in different ways. Both of you make me laugh and comfort me, but it’s not just about that…” she told him sincerely.

Perhaps that was the most beautiful day of Aldra's life. The feeling was mutual. Now, all that remained was for him to confess his feelings to the woman he cared about. This was a pivotal moment—he had to decide whether to step aside for Sam or another man, or to make his move and try to win her heart. This could be a sign, a signal for him to act, to finally say, "I love you." And so, he did. Even in the middle of the night, when they missed their train, he chose that moment. At 11 PM, standing on the platform, he poured out his feelings to her, promising everything he could, afraid of losing the chance.

In two weeks, Gina would be leaving him, and Sam would be going with her. That could be a serious problem for Aldra. Maybe, somewhere far from the city, Sam would suddenly confess his feelings to her. This was part of Sam's plan; it was all strategized. At least, that's what Aldra thought. Perhaps he didn’t really know Sam, but if Sam joined Gina, he would likely find a moment and a place to express himself. Maybe it was just Aldra's insecurity—the fear of losing her. But Gina had already told him that she felt more comfortable with him, that she found happiness with him. He shouldn’t be worried about losing her. He already had her.

At 11:05 PM, she still hadn’t said a word—no rejection, no acceptance. They sat on the bench in the cold night, waiting for the last train, which was due to arrive at midnight. There was still time for Aldra to wait for her response. And so, he did, his only companion the cigarette he kept lighting, unsure of how many he had smoked by then.

But suddenly, Gina began to hum a song. A song that could hold the answer. A song with deep meaning for both of them. It wasn’t a typical “silly” love song, even though it had the word "silly" in the title. It was the legendary Sir Paul McCartney himself who brought "Silly Love Songs" into the world. The song touched Aldra’s heart more than ever before. His hand trembled as he clutched the cigarette he had been smoking. He gazed at the woman beside him, who returned his look with the warmest smile he had ever seen.

Then, with a gentle gesture, she slowly moved closer to him. She rested her head on his shoulder and began speaking again. “Beautiful day, isn’t it? Do you see that old man? You always notice people like him…”

He didn’t respond. No words came from his lips, only the thick white smoke of his cigarette.

"Such a beautiful song, right?" she said again.

"Yes, indeed. What a genius Paul is..." Those were the only words that escaped his lips. His lungs were filled with nicotine, his mind clouded by it, but all he could manage to say was that.

“You know what the song really means?” she asked again, trying to convey that she accepted him. But Aldra, still groggy and nervous, didn’t respond right away.

"Someone... I don’t know... telling the person they love that they care deeply, even if the words sound silly, or even if others think it’s silly, but they don’t care about that," he explained.

She chuckled softly, then gently took Aldra’s hand. The warmth of her touch slowly sank in, and he realized just how comforting it felt.

"That song is for you, for us… tonight," she said, her words lingering in the air just before the last train arrived. As she spoke, she embraced him. In that moment, he felt a surge of electricity, a warmth that seemed to fill the cold night air at 11:45.

The last train finally arrived at midnight. As they stepped aboard, they both knew that something had changed. Their lives were different now. They were like two birds, choosing to spend their lives together, side by side, for as long as they could. On the train, he said something to her—something that shocked her, but also made her incredibly happy. Perhaps it was a promise? Only they, and God, knew for sure. But Gina’s expression seemed entirely different: filled with joy, hope, and brightness—brighter even than the neon lights on the train car ceiling. At least, that’s how Aldra saw it. Yes, hope—a hope for better days ahead, together.

IX

What’s going on? Why did you suddenly wake up, as if jolted by electricity? It’s already 7 PM, and the rain seems to have let up. You walk over to the balcony, and yes, it's still drizzling, but it’s much lighter now. It seems like you can finally go outside to grab a cigarette.

Before you do, you check your phone. There’s a message from your mother, sent at 4 PM, saying that the medic was in her bathroom. Of course, you’ve seen that, but there's something else she wrote just above that message: “It was a very urgent situation, darling. Me, Dad, and Lisa can’t get home. Please hurry and join us at the City Hall!”

There’s also an urgent message from your friend, along with several missed calls from everyone. What’s going on? You try to reach them, but there’s no answer immediately. Feeling confused, you step out onto the balcony and light your last cigarette. You sit there, your mind blank, and begin to notice just how quiet it is outside. Perhaps everyone is still staying indoors because of the rain, but there are no cars passing by, no people walking along the street.

As your mind goes blank, images of her suddenly flood back. It's been eight years since then, so why is it still affecting you? You need a distraction. The fact that the rain has stopped is actually a blessing—it gives you a chance to disconnect from the constant noise of social media. Let’s step outside. You no longer have to scroll through endless, repetitive content about success, perfect lives, and shallow positivity. You won't have to see “Gina’s happiness” with her husband anymore, and honestly, that’s a relief.

Despite your better judgment, you decide to click on the video and news your sister sent. The thumbnail catches your eye: “Warning to All Citizens of Ilbretsava: Stay Home or Prepare to Move As Soon As Possible.” It looks like just another clickbait headline, doesn’t it? As someone who’s cautious about such things, knowing they’re often designed to generate ad revenue for low-quality content, you usually ignore them

You finish your last cigarette and realize there’s nothing to do but head to the minimarket for a new pack. The rain seems to have stopped, so what are you waiting for? You grab your jacket and head downstairs. Slipping on your sandals, you reach for the door handle and step outside. It’s so quiet. You can even hear a dog barking in the distance. Silence. No engine sounds, no voices. Is it a dream? No.

Suddenly, without warning, the power goes out across the entire neighborhood. Perhaps there’s a maintenance issue, though no one was notified. Without giving it much thought, you lock the door to your house and begin walking. As you pass by Mr. Ilja’s house, you notice that the light is on, but the door is wide open. His car is missing from its usual spot, making it seem like no one is home. You continue walking, passing the children’s park—a small area surrounded by trees that rise up the hills. Beyond those hills lies the city of Ilbretsava. Yes, you live on the hillside, overlooking the city.

Do you hear something? Perhaps a blast? Maybe it's just kids setting off fireworks. But there are no fireworks, and no kids around. You keep walking, trying not to think too much about it. Well, maybe it’s just the distant rumble of the sky, signaling more rain.

But seriously, didn’t you hear those repeated explosions coming from the direction of the city? And the siren?

END