In the sunlit courtyard of the school, Daniel stood alone, his back leaning casually against a pillar. His eyes, calm yet calculating, scanned the crowd as if he were waiting for someone. A moment later, Clara approached, her steps light and a subtle excitement sparkling in her eyes.
"Hey Daniel," she greeted, brushing her hair behind her ear.
"Hey Clara, how are you?" Daniel replied with a smile that felt too rehearsed.
"I'm fine. So... why did you ask me to come here?" she asked, a hint of nervous curiosity in her voice.
Inside, Clara was brimming with hope. Maybe he's finally going to confess, she thought. He's never talked to me like this before.
Daniel tilted his head slightly, his eyes fixing on hers. "You know, you're a smart and beautiful girl."
Clara blinked, surprised. "Thanks... but why are you telling me this all of a sudden? You've never really seemed to notice me before."
Daniel chuckled softly. "What are you talking about? You're probably the girl I observe the most in our class. Your sense of justice really stands out to me."
Clara's heart skipped a beat. Finally, she thought. He notices me... He likes me.
But a part of her was still confused. Sense of justice? Still, it didn't matter. If Daniel liked that part of her, then so be it.
"I like how you always stand up to people who act superior to others," he added smoothly.
Clara puffed her chest slightly, smiling. "Well, of course. I can't stand arrogant people."
Daniel lowered his gaze for a moment, then looked back up with that same sly smile. "And right now, there's someone in particular who's looking down on me. I was hoping you could help me deal with her."
Clara stepped closer. "Of course, Daniel. Just give me her name, and I'll handle it."
Inside, Daniel smirked. Bingo. She's taken the bait, this fool.
Outwardly, he stayed calm. "You know the girl who sits next to me? Across the aisle?"
Clara paused. "Wait, you mean..."
"Yes," Daniel interrupted smoothly. "That Hena girl. She acts like she's better than everyone, especially me. I try to be nice, say hi, and she completely ignores me. She's cold and full of herself."
Clara's expression darkened. "I can't stand that girl either. She's so annoying. Don't worry, Daniel—I'll take care of it."
Perfect, Daniel thought. Thanks to you, Clara, step one of my plan to get close to her is underway.
"Thanks, Clara. I'm counting on you," he said aloud.
Back in the present, Daniel sat at his desk, the lamp casting a warm glow over his untouched notes. His fingers drummed lightly against the wood as he recalled the memory, a twisted smile creeping onto his face.
Using that idiot to get close to her wasn't such a bad idea... Too bad it didn't go perfectly.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
Hena Ferza... You're not like the others. Most girls melt when the prince comes to their rescue. They go crazy for the hero. But you... even after I helped you, you didn't even look at me. No gratitude. No fluttering heart. Just that same damn indifference.
He chuckled darkly to himself.
"But it's okay," he murmured. "No matter how tightly you shut yourself off, I'll break down that door. I always get what I want. And I want you, Hena Ferza. You hear me? You will be mine."
His voice echoed slightly in the silence of the room, heavy with obsession.
Daniel closed his notebook, pushing it aside. He stood, walking to the window, where he gazed out at the city lights.
You think you're safe behind that wall you've built, but you don't know me yet. You don't know what I'm capable of. One way or another, you'll be mine. Not because I love you. But because I've decided so.
His reflection in the window smirked back at him, darker and more twisted than ever.
And when I finally have you... you'll understand what it means to be truly seen.
The sun barely filtered through the tired curtains of the kitchen. It wasn't even six in the morning when Elene opened her eyes, hair messy, mouth dry. The apartment was oddly quiet. No music, no bottles clinking. Just a faint rustling sound from the living room.
Curious, she got up carefully and peeked through the half-open door. There, in the middle of overturned cushions, piles of unfolded clothes, and a bucket of water, Hena was kneeling, focused, scrubbing the floor.
Elene leaned against the wall.
— "Trying to clean the whole place on your own?"
Hena flinched slightly. — "Just sorting some stuff. It stinks in here."
Elene frowned. She glanced around. It was true. The smell of smoke, mildew, and old laundry had become a second skin in that apartment. But seeing her daughter up at dawn, trying to claw some order out of the mess… it hit something inside her.
— "If you were looking to get sick, there are easier ways, you know," Elene said with a half-smile.
— "I was bored," Hena replied flatly.
Silence. Then Elene ran a hand through her hair.
— "Alright. Let's do it together. Hand me a cloth and tell me where to start."
Hena blinked, as if she'd misheard. Then handed her a rag.
— "The corner with the bottles. I already threw out half of them."
Elene nodded, didn't argue. She knelt beside her.
**
For hours, they cleaned, moved furniture, tossed out old clothes. Words were rare at first—sharp comments, sighs, a tension hanging heavy like a thread ready to snap. But with each action, something loosened.
When Elene opened an old drawer and pulled out a dusty photo album, she couldn't help but sit down on the floor.
— "You remember this?" she murmured, showing a picture of young Hena holding a stuffed animal.
Hena came closer, silently. She stared at the photo for a long time. Then shrugged.
— "That was before you started vanishing every night."
Elene didn't answer. She put the album away and stood up.
**
By noon, they paused. Elene made something simple—pasta with butter and grated cheese. Nothing fancy, but there was something almost comforting in eating together, even in silence.
— "You know," Elene said, "I wish I'd done this more often. Been a normal mom. Cooked. Cleaned."
— "It's never too late," Hena said, eyes fixed on her plate.
The sentence hung in the air, heavy with meaning.
**
The afternoon passed with quiet laughter and sarcastic comments about the ugly wallpaper. At one point, Elene suggested repainting a shelf. Hena agreed. The result was sloppy, but they both smiled when they saw paint smudges on each other's noses.
By 7 p.m., the apartment felt different. Not beautiful. Not new. But alive.
**
Elene walked into the bathroom, adjusting her hair in the mirror.
— "Alright, I need to get ready. I'm heading out."
Hena, folding a blanket, froze.
— "You're going there again?" she asked quietly.
Elene pretended not to understand.
— "Going where?"
— "You know where. Your job."
A brutal silence.
— "Hena, I've been trying to make up for it today. Isn't that enough?"
— "You think one day makes up for everything? You'll come back drunk again, forget all of this, and we'll be back to square one!"
— "It's not that simple!" Elene snapped.
— "Yes, it is! It's that simple. Choose. Stay here, or keep living your shitty life!"
Elene clenched her fists. Rage bubbled inside her. But this time, she didn't use it to run. She sighed. Long and deep, like her whole body was surrendering.
She threw her bag onto the couch.
— "Fine. I'll stay."
**
That night, for the first time in years, they slept in the same bed. At first, it was awkward, a little stiff. Hena lay with her arms crossed, tense. But when Elene slid an arm around her shoulders and gently pulled her close, she didn't resist.
For a moment, she closed her eyes. She smelled the mix of smoke and soap. She heard her mother's heartbeat. And finally, she let herself cry, just a little.
Elene whispered softly:
— "I'm sorry. I love you, baby."
Hena didn't have the strength to reply. But her forehead resting against her mother's shoulder said everything she needed to.