The new day is bright, and this Friday night felt alive with energy. My phone buzzed with calls from a few close friends inviting me for a drink and some chatter at the music bar around the corner. It's one of my favorite spots to unwind. If not there, I'm usually at home, playing games, riding my motorcycle, or just camping out.
I finished my report carefully because it was my new workplace, then sent it off to the IT department manager at an electrical import and distribution company. And then made up my mind where I should go, I couldn't say no to one of my friends, so I headed out to meet them.
At the bar, we catched up on upcoming projects, sipped on a couple of drinks, and kept things light—I cannot drink more avoiding consequences that lead to conflict. So, I stuck to just a small drink, keeping things casual.
I made sure to head home by 10 p.m. I couldn't keep myself out of the overthinking space, especially when it comes to her—the woman in survival mode. My mind kept returning to her, her struggles, and the walls she's built around herself.
The elevator reached the fifteenth floor, and as the doors opened, we ran into each other. It's a surprise—both of us are momentarily stunned. She looked happier today, and it's clear she was not alone. Two other women were with her.
The two women stepped into the elevator, while I moved to exit. But my neighbor stood still, not moving. Her friends called out to her.
"Solin, come on!" says the thinner girl.
"Why are you standing still, Miss Solinka?" The taller one adds with chuckles.
"You don't want to go?" the thin girl asked.
"No, I'm going," Solin replied, her tone soft but decisive.
"If you don't want to go, just wait inside," the taller girl suggested.
"Let's go together,"
Solin said with a casual shrug, dressed in the color of midnight blue jeans that fit her form perfectly, tracing the lines of her slim legs and accentuating her natural shape. The white printed T-shirt clings gently to her back, highlighting the graceful curve of her spine and the subtle tension in her shoulders as she moves. It's a simple yet powerful look, the kind that speaks volumes without saying a word. The scent of Chanel No. 5 from her drifted towards me, its aromatic charm filling the air and weaving a mood of love. A delicate fragrance lingers, like a soft whisper of jasmine and sandalwood, adding depth to the moment. The elevator doors closed, and I'm left standing, watching them disappear.
What a beautiful name, Solinka! It sounded like a delicate flower. Just hearing her name made my wild imagination paused, as if the world slows down for a moment. I wish I could say it aloud, right here, right now, in front of her. I'm waiting for her to return tonight, believing she won't leave me waiting until the break of dawn. Please, don't let this night slip away without letting me call your name, Solinka.
I leaned against the steel railing of the balcony, choosing to wait because I believed she'll be home very soon. The words of the talkative girl echo in my mind:
"If you don't want to go, just wait inside."
***
"Are you really waiting for me?"
Her voice caught me off guard. I turned to find her standing by the steel railing, her gaze mirroring mine as she watched the cityscape. Then, as I shifted my focus, she stepped closer.
"Why are you…? You came back so quickly," I stammered, surprised. It's only been about 15 minutes.
"Yes, I am," She says quickly, answering my question. Then she chuckled softly.
"Why are you laughing?" I asked, feeling strangely at ease tonight.
"Why do you do that?" she countered.
"Do what? Ask a stupid question, or are you just pretending not to know?"
She tilted her head slightly, a playful smirk on her lips.
"I mean, why don't you come inside, take a shower, and rest first? Then you can come out and wait again if you really want to." She empathized.
"I know what you mean now, but what if you go inside and don't open the door for me?" I teased.
"Are you…? That's crazy," she replied, momentarily stunned by my remark.
"And why did you just come back now? Where are your friends?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
She hesitated, then replied
"Hmm, they're coming back soon. I think you might just…stay like this. And maybe it's true."
"Stay like this? Waiting for you? Or are you afraid your friends will suspect us?"
"Suspect us of what?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Whatever is in your mind," I replied, a playful grin forming.
"You…you're really something," she said, shaking her head with a faint smile. I can't help but smile back.
"You're smiling?" she said, her expression caught between irritation and amusement.
"You seem full of energy today, Miss Solinka. I believe you'll have a great time with your friends," I said, intentionally using her name.
Her eyes widened slightly at hearing her name from me.
"Thank you," she said softly, her bright eyes meeting mine.
"Have a good night."
As she turned to leave, I said it without hesitation.
"You're so beautiful."
She chuckled, her laughter light and soft, and walked away without looking back.
I knew she was afraid—afraid I might cross a line, confront her friends, and make everything chaotic. She's trying to avoid any confrontation, misunderstanding, or unnecessary complexity. But I can't help wondering: was she shielding me from whatever burdens she's carrying, or was she simply keeping me from learning more about her through her friends?
***
Because of my late-night gaming session, Civilization VI, I ended up waking ridiculously late—it's already 11 a.m.
"Ugh… my stomach is killing me!"
I stumbled out of my bedroom, groggy and annoyed, heading straight for a bottle of water.
"WTF!"
I knew I shouldn't have eaten so much spicy food. I grumbled, holding my stomach as I drank.
As I set the bottle down, my eyes landed on Solinka's hot water bottle, still on my table since then. I pick it up, feeling its smooth surface. It's a small thing, yet it carries so much weight. I wonder if she'll come back for it. I wonder if she's thought about me. And just like that, I realize—I miss her already. I imagine she slept peacefully last night, free from nightmares or the weight of restless thoughts.
I hope the presence of her friends fills her with laughter, a warmth that stirs the light of happiness within her, like the soft glow of dawn breaking through the darkness.
After a refreshing shower, I collapse onto the couch, scrolling through my phone to order some food. With the order placed, I turn on the TV, flipping aimlessly through programs while lying there, letting my mind wander. About 30 minutes later, just as I'm starting to relax, my phone rings.
I head to the ground floor to pick up my lunchbox, the aroma seeping through the packaging teasing my empty stomach. As I step outside, my eyes drift toward the mini-mart next to the building, and I decide to grab a few things.
But then I see her—Solin. She's sitting inside with her two friends from last night, their laughter carrying faintly through the glass door. She wore blue jeans with a long sleeve Indian red T-shirt today.
My pace quickens as I enter the mini-mart. My heart races for reasons I can't fully explain. I spot a food and snacks counter near them and instinctively position myself behind it, the shelves providing a convenient cover. From this vantage point, I can see her clearly.
***
She looks different in daylight—relaxed, smiling, her hands gesturing animatedly as she talks. It's a stark contrast to the guarded, vulnerable version of her I've come to know. For a moment, I forget why I came here in the first place.
The taller friend's voice softens as she addresses Solin, her words carrying a gentle but firm tone.
"Why can't you? They're your parents, Solin. They'll forgive you."
Solin's eyes shift, avoiding the conversation, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. The thin girl remains quiet, watching the exchange, while the taller friend presses on.
"Your ego's bigger than your situation right now? Huh?"
Solin's face tightens, her chest rising with a quiet, sharp breath.
"It's not what you think, Davy!" she says, her voice faltering. "I... I don't want to talk about them. Please."
"But if you don't go back to them, and you don't return to the company, what's your plan? Are you just going to sail off without a map?"
Solin's gaze drops, and her fingers tighten around the edge of her bottle of drink.
"I don't know yet," she replies, her voice barely above a whisper.
"And,...I've spent all my savings…"
The words hang in the air, sounding almost like a quiet confession. It feels like a scam, a desperate act with no real plan.
The taller Davy looks at the thin friend, exchanging a glance of disbelief. The silence between them stretches for a moment before the thin friend turns to Solin, her tone softer but still tinged with concern.
"Boss would like to talk to you. If you come back, you'll always be welcomed."
Davy added with a sharp edge in her voice,
"Yes, Nita is right."
Nita added quickly
"You've been on leave for almost two months. Just come back! He won't join the company again."
Solin remained silent, her glimpse fixed on something distant, the words lingering in her mind but her lips sealed. She doesn't respond, yet something in her posture suggests she's holding onto the thought, perhaps more than she lets on.
The mention of "he" hangs in the air, and Solin's friends seem to know who it is, but to me, it's a mystery. Who is this "he" that seems to have such an influence on her decision?
I'm torn, desperate to know the truth quickly "who is he?" Yet instinctively wanting to distance myself, to decide whether it's worth caring for—or better left ignored.
After the conversation ends, Davy and Nita, the thin girl, walk out together, leaving Solin behind. I watch them go for a moment before turning my attention back to Solin, who is heading toward the parking lot. I decide to follow her from a distance, my heart racing with an unfamiliar mix of concern and curiosity.
She slides into a red Mazda 3, taking a short pause inside. I stand at the edge of the parking lot, unsure if I should leave her to her solitude. But the worry gnaws at me, and before I can talk myself out of it, I walk over, carrying my box in hand, and stand in front of her car.
She freezes, her eyes locking onto mine. For a long beat, there's only silence. Then, she rolls down the window, her face unreadable.
"Are you following me?" she asks, her voice colder than I expect. I hesitate for a moment, then shake my head.
"It's just a coincidence. You're going out?"
Her gaze doesn't leave me.
"Obviously."
"Take care!" I say, offering a half-hearted goodbye before I turn to walk away.
But just as I take a step, I hear the blare of her car horn. I freeze in place, confusion flooding me. I turn back, and there she is, stepping out of her car, walking toward me with purpose.
"Are you obsessed with me that much?"
she asks, her voice sharper than before, catching me off guard.
I stand there, stunned, my mind scrambling for a response. Her words hang heavy in the air. She looks at me intently, almost desperate for an answer, yet I find myself frozen, unsure of what to say.
"If you're just playing around, being easy going," she continues, her tone a mixture of frustration and something else, "please stay away from me, before…"
"Before what?" I ask, finally finding my voice, the tension thick between us.
"I don't know! Just stop pretending like you care... like you're actually considerate!"
she erupts, her words cutting through the air like broken glass. There's a tremor in her voice, but it's not from weakness—it's from something much more dangerous: frustration and fear.
Continued...