I then decided to go back Before contacting kyte. To drop off the new clothes, maybe change a little, and most importantly, gather my thoughts. The fresh street air was not enough to calm the whirlwind in my head.
When I arrived, a strange sense of familiarity greeted me. Not long ago, this place would have felt foreign. Yet now, I had begun to get used to it. The walls, the furniture, the smell of the rooms… it had already started to take its place in my daily life.
I set the bags of clothes down near the door before walking slowly toward the living room. The house was silent. Mia wasn't there. The calm that filled the room was almost soothing.
I sat on the couch.
The cushion sank slightly under my weight. For a few seconds, I just stayed there, still, staring at the ceiling as if trying to find an answer there.
Then I pulled out my phone.
The screen lit up, faintly illuminating my fingers. I paused for a moment, staring at the empty message box before slowly typing.
"Is that you, Kyte?" I wrote.
The words seemed simple, almost mundane. Yet they carried a strange weight. Once the message was sent, I set the phone down on the coffee table without waiting for a reply.
A slight hunger began to creep in.
I got up from the couch and walked toward the kitchen. The tiles felt cool under my feet, and the silence of the house accompanied each of my movements.
I opened the refrigerator.
The white light illuminated the interior. Among the bottles and food containers, I immediately noticed a meal carefully wrapped. On the packaging, a small label bore my name, written by hand.
I paused for a moment, staring at that handwriting.
Mia…
She had a very good heart. Even if she sometimes seemed to play a role, as if she had chosen to show the world a different side of herself. Yet, from the moment I saw her come to pick me up from the hospital, I understood something.
That side was not real.
I picked up the meal in my hands.
The box was still slightly warm. It had probably been prepared shortly before our departure. A quiet, but real, care.
I returned to the living room with the food.
I placed the box on the coffee table and opened it slowly.
Inside, there were plenty of vegetables neatly arranged, accompanied by a few well-roasted chicken wings. The smell was pleasant, simple, almost homely.
No wonder she was still in such good shape, I thought, looking at the meal.
Yet, the moment my eyes landed on the vegetables, a strange sensation rose in my throat. A brief but intense nausea made me tilt my head back slightly. I felt my muscles tense, my stomach knot, as if something inside me refused to accept this meal.
I suddenly felt an uncontrollable urge to vomit. I frowned, unable to understand this reaction. It was strange. I had never had problems with vegetables before. On the contrary, I had always enjoyed them, even in their simplest form.
So why this reaction now? Why did this disgust appear all of a sudden, without warning, like an internal alarm? My mind raced, unable to find a logical explanation. Thoughts jostled in my head, fragmented, overlapping without ever forming a clear line. Each memory seemed to emerge only to vanish immediately, leaving an even more disturbing void.
I remained there, sitting in front of the table, my hands resting on the cold wood.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated…
The sound shattered the heavy silence in the room. My heart leapt, and a shiver ran down my spine. The screen's light flickered, casting a cold blue glow across the room. I turned my head toward the device, almost hesitating to face what it displayed.
The screen showed an incoming call.
The same unknown number. My mind froze for a second. Then, immediately, the thought surged: Kyte. I recognized her without a shadow of doubt. Every fiber of my being seemed to tense at the idea.
Two thoughts collided instantly in my mind. One urged me to ignore the call, to refuse, to stay within the silent safety of my solitude. The other pushed me to answer.
Finally, despite all hesitation, I picked up the phone.
"You're finally trying to answer me…"
It was the voice I knew so well. That soft, almost fragile voice, capable of calming my restless nights, of comforting me when everything seemed lost. Once, she had whispered phrases like, "Don't worry, everything will be fine…" and each word seemed to lay a balm on my soul.
But this time… this time, it was just a voice at the end of a line. Nothing more. It had lost its warmth, its closeness. Each syllable fell like a distant echo, as if she were already far away, elsewhere.
"Hi, Kyte…" I finally said, my voice neutral, almost detached.
A short silence followed. I could almost feel her holding her breath, surprised by my calm. Perhaps she expected a more vivid, more emotional reaction. But I showed nothing. I remained still, listening through the invisible line connecting us.
"Hmm… come to the place where we used to meet. I have something to tell you."
Her voice remained cold, almost urgent, as if she didn't want to waste time with unnecessary explanations. Each word was sharp, direct, charged with urgency I could not ignore.
"If you're even a minute late… I'll leave."
Then she hung up.
The sharp click of the phone seemed to echo throughout the house. I stayed frozen, the phone still at my ear, the silence of the room pressing down on me with an almost physical intensity.
I slowly lowered the device.
My eyes fixed on the black screen as if I could see her reflection, or perhaps my own thoughts. Immediately, the memories of that evening resurfaced with a brutality that hit my stomach.
Her words, her moans, the hesitant movements, and then… that man.
Everything came back, fragmented, yet whole in its violence. A memory that still burned, leaving a trace of invisible fire in my mind.
The world had always been unfair to me.
Whenever something truly mattered to me, it disappeared. Moments of happiness, precious bonds, solid anchors… all ripped away as if the universe took pleasure in seeing me fall.
At that moment, a dull anger and a silent despair mingled within me.
But at the same time, something else was born. A dark curiosity. A need to understand. A force pushing me to seek, to confront, to no longer run.
Perhaps this meeting would finally allow me to understand something. Perhaps I would finally discover my true destiny… or simply what I had truly become. A low tension had been building in me all day, and I felt that this meeting would be the key to something, even though I didn't yet know what.
I didn't even bother changing. My clothes still bore the marks of that that evening, the evening when everything ended. Strangely, I felt better this way, as if this apparent carelessness brought me closer to the moment I was about to live. Every fiber of my being seemed ready to face what awaited me.
The place Kyte referred to was on a bridge. A small square where the sunset kissed the river below. The wooden planks creaked slightly under the few passing feet, and the gentle wind made the grass and hair of those who dared venture there dance. The view was breathtaking, almost unreal, as if suspended out of time.
It was also the place where we had first met. A memory both sweet and bitter: a girl and a boy who had deeply loved this spot, who often returned to share simple but precious moments. Every corner of the bridge seemed to carry echoes of our past laughter, innocent conversations, and promises we had made without understanding their weight.
When I arrived, she was already there. She stood near the railing, facing the horizon, her gaze lost in the orange reflections of the sunset. The wind gently lifted her hair, and the light made some golden strands shine. She seemed to have heard my steps, but she did not turn immediately. Her still posture conveyed a subtle, almost ceremonial anticipation.
I approached her slowly, my steps measured, so as not to break the fragile tension between us. Still radiant, she seemed to float in the evening light. The love of a lifetime… my only family once. My heart beat faster, but strangely, there was neither panic nor excitement, only a strange calm, heavy with expectation.
"Hi," I said simply.
She finally turned toward me. Her appearance had completely changed. The clothes she now wore were revealing, very different from the innocence I once knew. The girl I believed pure, who had once smiled at me with the gentleness of a diamond, now seemed detached, unreachable, as if marking a distance I had to respect.
Her brown eyes shone under the setting sun, and her blonde hair fell along her shoulders in light strands. She stood there, in front of me, with a presence that took my breath away, as if time had stopped for us alone.
She looked at me for a few seconds, assessing my reaction, weighing my emotions without a word. Then she broke the silence with a slight smile.
"I see you've changed a lot, Eren…" she said in a measured voice.
"Why did you call me?" I asked, trying to keep a relaxed tone. Yet seeing her there, so close, deeply disturbed my thoughts and inner balance.
She remained silent a moment longer, then pulled several sheets from her bag. The sunlight lit the documents, giving them an almost cruel gleam.
"Take these… they're transfer documents for another university," she said, adopting the same hard gaze she had that night.
I stayed still, staring at the sheets without moving or reaching for them.
"Why should I change schools?" I asked neutrally, though my muscles were tense, ready to react to any movement.
She let out a small incredulous, almost bitter laugh.
"Seriously… you're asking me that?"
Her expression grew harsher, her eyes flashing with frustration and contained anger.
"Because of you, I can no longer study in peace at the faculty. It's not my fault you almost killed yourself for me. It's not my fault you're so pathetic."
Her words were heavy, precise, each syllable striking like a hammer blow to my mind. Yet strangely, they no longer hurt. A peculiar neutrality had settled in, a mix of fatigue, resignation, and curiosity.
"Then take these documents and disappear from my life. I never want to see your face again."
She noticed that I did not move, did not reach for the papers. Her eyes hardened even more, and she stepped toward me.
"You know what…" she murmured, her voice lower, almost threatening.
"If you were dead, it would have been easier."
With those last words, she threw the documents at my face. The papers spun in the air for a few seconds, then fell to the ground with a sharp, distinct noise.
"I don't want to see your face at the faculty on Monday."
Then she turned away.
She began walking along the bridge. Her steps were calm, regular, determined. Each heel struck the wood with a clear rhythm, echoing in the evening silence. She moved forward without looking back, every motion precise and controlled, as if deliberately keeping her distance.
And I stayed there, motionless.
Watching her walk away…