"What are the plans for tomorrow?" Emotions still churn inside me. My words hang in the air like a thin thread that could snap at any moment.
I look at her, trying to catch even a glimmer of warmth in her eyes, but her gaze is distant, as if she is far away in her own thoughts, where I have no access.
"Tomorrow we are going to a club, where you and I will lose ourselves in the thumping music and a lot of alcohol," there is determination in her voice, as if she has already mentally moved there, far away from all our problems. The words sound like a promise of escape, like an attempt to drown out everything that has been tormenting us. I smile at her, pretending that everything is as it used to be. But inside, I realize that this is only a temporary reprieve, an attempt to run from a reality that will catch up with us anyway.
"A perfect plan, and I support it with pleasure," I try to sound convincing.
My gaze falls on the glass shards lying on the floor. They glint like fragments of our experiences, reminding me of how I lost control, how anger overwhelmed me. Every shard is a symbol of something destroyed, and I feel the weight of guilt again.
"I'll start with the cleaning today. Sorry about the glass; I got very angry that you went to him. The anger wasn't at you, but at the thought that he could have done something to you," I feel how heavy it is to say these words. My hands tremble as I pick up the broom and dustpan. I want her to understand that my anger was not at her, but at the situation, at myself, and at everything happening around us.
Rebel Girl hugs me from behind, her arms gently wrapping around my waist. The warm touch calms me, as if she is trying to say, "Everything is fine, I am here." The tension releases a little, and I close my eyes, enjoying the moment. Her breathing is calm, and I want this moment to last forever.
"It's nothing. I understand you perfectly and I'm not offended. I knew why you were angry, and that the object of your anger was not me," there is deep fatigue in her voice. The girl lets me go, and I feel her warmth leave, leaving an emptiness behind.
"Shall we not talk about him or about what happened or will happen?" I steer the conversation into calmer waters. I want us to be able to forget about all our problems for at least a while and just be together.
"Let's," she agrees with joy, and a lightness appears in her voice that has been missing the last few days. Her smile is weak, but sincere, and I feel something warming up in my chest. "And now let's go. I'm hungry, and you still have to clean up after yourself," after these words, she heads to the kitchen.
While Katrin is reheating the food, I sweep up the glass shards and throw them away. They remind me how easy it is to destroy something fragile — whether it is a glass or a relationship. A wave of regret rises in my chest, but I believe that we can fix everything if we are together.
When I finish cleaning, Katrin is already serving the food. The smell fills the room, and I feel a little better. We sit at the table, and I try to see in her eyes that very same Rebel Girl whom I love. She smiles, and there is something familiar in that smile — warm and hopeful.
"Thank you."
She nods, and we begin to eat, enjoying this moment of silence and peace. I know that difficulties await us ahead, but for now I just want to be with her, enjoying her presence and the warmth she gives.
"I'll buy you a new mug, I promise!" my words sound with a slight note of guilt and hope that this will somehow soften the situation. I look at her, trying to find even a drop of warmth in her eyes, but the gaze remains distant, as if she is far away, in her thoughts, where I have no access.
"No need. It wasn't my favorite," her voice sounds tired, as if she has long ago accepted that things break and feelings are lost. Katrin doesn't even raise her head, continuing to eat slowly, as if every movement is difficult for her.
"Next time I am going to break something, I will definitely ask you what is your favorite and what is not," I try to joke, hoping that at least a drop of humor can melt the ice that is starting to grow between us again. The joke sounds clumsy, as if I am trying to patch a crack in the wall with a paper plaster.
"Are you planning to break something again?" the girl asks with anxiety, finally raising her eyes to me. Fear can be read in them, as if she is afraid not only for things, but for something bigger, something fragile that can break at any moment.
"No, I wasn't planning to. I just wanted to cheer you up with that joke, but it seems it didn't work," the weight of guilt descends on my shoulders again. I want everything to be like it was before, for us to be able to laugh together again, but now it seems unattainable.
"I just... I am not really in the mood for jokes today, and I don't want to laugh," the voice sounds so quiet that I barely hear the words. There is a sadness in her tone that has filled everything around. Silence falls between us, as oppressive as it was a couple of days ago. I hoped that it would not be there anymore, but here it has come again, like an uninvited guest at the most inappropriate moment. The silence presses on my ears, becoming heavier and heavier, like a wall separating us.
"I'm done," Katrin reports, pushing her plate away.
"Let's go," I try to take the situation into my own hands, although I feel that everything is not going the way I would like.
"Where?" she frowns slightly, as if she doesn't want to go anywhere, but is not going to argue either.
"To a café."
"Why? I've already eaten at home," the girl doesn't understand; a slight irritation is felt in her, as if she doesn't see the point in this venture.
"We'll go, get some air, eat some ice cream or a pastry. In general, something sweet," I try to smile, but it comes out forced. I don't want to sit all day in this anxious energy that hovers in the air. We need fun, we need to bring back that old Rebel Girl who loved to laugh and rejoice at trifles.
"Alright. Let's go," she gets up from the table, and her voice sounds without enthusiasm, but I decide to consider this a small victory. Maybe in the café we will find at least a drop of what we lost, and the sweet and the laughter will return to us at least a part of what used to be.
We go out to the street and walk on foot to the city center, where it is always full of people. The streets are busy, passersby scurry, voices mix, sounds of cars and music from cafes. All this seems distant, like a background, not capable of disturbing our little world. The girl holds my hand tightly, her fingers interlaced with mine, and she doesn't want to let me go from her. Her touch is warm and reliable, as if she is afraid that I might disappear if she weakens her grip. I feel her palm trembling slightly, and this makes me squeeze her hand harder in response.
We enter the café, and the cozy atmosphere immediately captures us. The smell of fresh pastries and coffee mixes with a light aroma of vanilla, creating a feeling of warmth.
"Katrin, baby, what do you want to eat?" I ask her half-jokingly, trying to sound light and playful. She looks at me, and a spark of laughter flashes in her eyes. Rebel Girl laughs again, and her laughter is just as ringing and infectious as always. From her smile, I also want to smile, as if her joy is transmitted to me like a warm ray of the sun.
"I want three of these little pastries and two pieces of that cake," my girl commands the saleswoman, pointing at the display case.
"Did my Katrin have a big appetite today?" I ask with a laugh, carrying her order to the table.
We choose a table by the window, I help her sit down, and then I settle opposite. I look at her, and she is so beautiful, so alive, and I want this moment to last forever.
"I always eat a lot when I am in a bad mood. Or drink," she admits, slightly tilting her head.
"Better eat," I choose one of two evils, trying to sound joking. I don't want her to plunge into her thoughts again, into her experiences.
"Do you want me to get fat?" the girl raises an eyebrow, looking at me with a slight challenge.
"Why not? Your cheeks will become even bigger, and they will become even more pleasant to kiss," I lightly stroke one of her cheeks. My fingers feel the softness of her skin, and I feel her blushing slightly under my touch. "You are beautiful in any physical form. I would love you even if you were fat," I confess to her.
Honestly, it would suit her to be pregnant. She would be just a cutie, and I already imagine how she will shine, holding a baby in her arms. A part of me involuntarily adds the word "ours."
"How do you know that you love me?" Katrin asks suddenly.
"What a stupid question? I don't know, I feel it," her question touches me to the quick, and I feel a wave of anxiety rising in my chest.
"It's not a stupid one, and I am not talking about that. Maybe it's just a childish naive infatuation that will pass in a couple of months? Don't you think so?" she continues to insist.
Is Rebel Girl trying to push me away again? I look at her, and in her eyes, I see uncertainty, fear that all this might be temporary. I take her hand into mine and squeeze it tightly.
"Katrin, I don't know how to explain it, but I feel that you are mine. You are a part of me. And this is not naivety, this is something bigger. I can't imagine my life without you," my words sound sincere.
I want her to understand: my feelings are not a fleeting infatuation, but something deep and real. She looks at me, doubt flashes in her eyes, but then she smiles — warmly, as always.
"Okay, I will believe you... for now."
Rebel Girl takes a piece of cake and bites it off, looking at me with a playful glint in her eyes. I smile at her in response, feeling how the anxiety gradually goes away. We are together again, and this is the main thing.
"Whatever you say, it won't change my feelings, I have already told you," something twinges inside me. Her words hurt me, and a wave of anxiety rises in my chest. I look at the girl, trying to understand what exactly she wants to hear, what she expects from me.
"No, I am not talking you out of anything. Just have you ever thought that you might be confusing your feelings?" her voice sounds serious, and she looks at me with slight uncertainty, as if she is afraid that I might be mistaken. "Have you ever been in love with someone before me?"
"Not so strongly — no. I liked girls from my boarding school, but we didn't have anything because I didn't confess my feelings to any of them. But there was a kiss with one of them," I admit, feeling my cheeks blush slightly. I don't want to remember this, but she forces me to speak.
"Who did you kiss before me?" the girl is indignant, and her voice sounds with a slight note of jealousy. Can it be that she is jealous of me for this little girl? I look at her, trying to understand if she is joking or if she really feels something.
"Are you jealous?"
"Who said that?" Katrin turns away from me innocently, but I see how her cheeks turn slightly pink. She tries to hide her emotions, but she doesn't succeed very well.
"It is visible on your face," I tease her slightly.
"Nothing is visible there. So, what did you have with that girl?" her voice sounds with such disdain that if that little girl were here, Katrin would probably have pulled all her hair out.
"She was my friend. I liked her, although at that moment I liked one more girl besides her," I start the story, feeling how my words sound a bit clumsy. I don't want to go into details, but she forces me to talk about them.
"You are a loving guy, aren't you? You set your eyes on both at once?" Katrin laughs, and her laughter is just as ringing and infectious as always.
"Well, they were both beautiful, and I couldn't choose one. But you, of course, are more beautiful than both of them!" I want her to understand that for me, she has always been and will be the most beautiful.
"Sycophant! Okay, tell me further."
"She saw how one of the teachers kissed, and decided to repeat. We stood up and pressed our lips to each other. But neither of us liked it, and I liked it so little that she stopped being attractive to me. In general, the kiss was childish — lips pressed to lips, and that's it," by the end of the story, my cheeks are red.
"And did you kiss any other girl?"
"No, my feats ended there. I didn't have anything with anyone else."
"And it's good. Okay, let's go home. We have a big outing tomorrow, so we need to get some sleep," says the satisfied Rebel Girl, standing up from the table.
We go out of the café, and she takes my hand again. Her touch is warm and reliable, and I feel a wave of warmth rising in my chest. We walk home, enjoying the silence and peace around us. I know that difficulties await us ahead, but for now, I just want to be with her, enjoying her presence.