Eric, after washing his face with water in the bathroom, felt refreshed. His eyes were back to normal. He found a towel nearby, wiped the water off his face and hair, and realized that he could think clearly now and his vision was also much sharper than before.
He folded the towel properly, put it down, turned off the bathroom lights, and stepped out, closing the door gently behind him so as not to make any noise whatsoever.
He glanced through the window. It was still raining. He decided to go for a little walk in this lovely weather.
He turned left, passed the bedroom, and entered the living room. Their rented apartment's living room was neither small nor huge; it was average. He looked right and saw a two-seater sofa. A few centimetres in front of it stood a glass coffee table where they usually placed food or books. On the wall opposite hung a 42-inch TV that Ruby mostly used to watch movies and try new recipes.
"Even though she can only make average food," he thought with a faint smile.
He looked further right and saw a small dining table with four chairs, one on each side.
Straight ahead was the open kitchen with beautiful black marble tiles that always looked spotless.
Ruby really cleans the house every day, after all.
Eric walked into the kitchen, took a glass from the sink, rinsed it, filled it with water, and drank. His Adam's apple bobbed as the cool liquid soothed his dry throat. He placed the glass back in the sink.
He slipped off his pyjamas, tossed them onto the sofa, opened the cupboard beside the TV, and pulled out a white shirt and black trousers. He dressed quickly.
He grabbed some keys from the kitchen counter, headed to the main door, took a black umbrella from the stand, unlocked the door, stepped outside, turned around, and locked it again.
He looked left and right. The street was lifeless, silent, peaceful, and serene. The air was cold and chilling, but Eric, dressed lightly, didn't feel it at all. Rainwater ran into the drains. Cars were parked in neat rows. Even the occasional vehicle that had been passing earlier had stopped.
The quietness brought a small smile to his lips. He opened the umbrella and felt satisfied hearing the familiar tap-tap of raindrops on its surface.
He walked, turning left at an intersection, then left and right again. After about thirty minutes, he stood in front of Lottle Plaza. The huge mall was still open in the middle of the night.
Eric stepped inside, closed his umbrella, and, as expected, found most shops shuttered and the place dimly lit, almost deserted.
Still, a few scattered people eased the loneliness a little.
He didn't care about the closed shops; the one he wanted was open: the Sweets & Breads shop on the third-floor open space. It was decorated with props, plants, and flowers—daisies, roses, tulips—some real, some fake, all carefully tended.
Eric approached the counter, set down his umbrella, and studied the three display rows.
The first row held pastries of every kind: vanilla, chocolate, blueberry, red velvet, and more. Just looking at them could make anyone's mouth water.
The second row featured Russian sweets: Medovik (honey cake), Napoleon cake, pastila, syrniki, and some less common treats.
The third and final row was dedicated to breads: white bread, Borodinsky, bukhanka, Stolichny rye, yeast karavai, and many others.
Behind the counter stood a woman on night shift. Her eyes were unfocused and drooping. She covered a yawn with her hand. She had snow-white skin, long black curly hair, and emerald-green eyes. A small black mole beneath her right eye only added to her already striking beauty.
Suddenly, her eyes snapped wide open. She jumped slightly, all sleepiness vanishing. A man was staring at the sweets and breads with intense focus, clearly torn over what to choose.
"Do people really get cravings for sweets in the middle of the night? ...Well, I do sometimes," she thought.
She worried the handsome customer might have seen her yawning, but he seemed completely absorbed.
She wanted to offer recommendations, but after standing silently for so long, speaking now would feel awkward.
Eric straightened, looked at her, and smiled.
"Could I please have one of everything? My friend has a huge sweet tooth; his hunger is insatiable." His pink eyes met hers gently. "Also, miss, you should get some rest. It hurts me to see a beautiful daisy wilted with exhaustion."
So he did see me yawn! Her cheeks flushed warm with embarrassment. She noticed not only his handsome face but also his perfect posture, graceful gestures, and soothing, polite voice that matched the calm air around him.
She bowed quickly, apologised, and began packing his order. A huge sale in the middle of the night made her secretly happy.
Eric chuckled softly. "Don't be agitated; it doesn't suit your personality."
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "You know my personality?"
Eric nodded and spoke calmly. "Your name is Daisy. Your family owns a flower shop your parents started after they married. Your mother named you Daisy because it's her favourite flower. Your father wanted Rose—white roses are his favourite—but he let the woman he loved choose. You've spent your whole life surrounded by flowers, caring for them, so your personality grew like them. You're currently studying botany in college. You're kind, gentle, extroverted, sociable, always helping others—it feels like your duty. You're polite, but deep down, you're quietly proud of your beauty and love showing off your flower knowledge. You get embarrassed easily and overthink things. Right now, you're frustrated and exhausted from studying all day and working nights just to ease the burden on your parents a little. You long for someone patient who'll listen to your daily struggles without judgment, but you believe no such person exists, so you bottle everything up. I can relate."
Daisy froze behind the counter, staring at him with wide, teary eyes. A single tear rolled down her right cheek. After a few seconds, she snapped out of her daze.
"S-Sir... have we met before? Or do you follow me on social media?" Her voice trembled with confusion and lingering shock. She was worried that this handsome young man might turn out to be a stalker, though she wouldn't mind such a handsome man obsessing over her. The thought of him having a room full of photos of her made her feel a thump in her chest as her cheeks turned a little pink.
Eric shook his head. "This is the first time I've ever seen you. Everything I said came from observing your reactions, your body language, and your surroundings." He pointed to the pots of white roses, daisies, and tulips—her favourites—and then to her purse on the counter, where a photo of her parents stood in front of their flower shop, their names clearly visible. "Deduction has always come naturally to me, ever since childhood," he added with a playful smile.
Daisy's mood instantly lifted. She laughed with him, quickly finished packing, and gave him a 40-percent discount "for large orders." Eric thanked her and effortlessly lifted all the bags of sweets, bread, and pastries.
Just as he turned to leave, he looked back.
"You need a friend who'll listen all day, right? Two days from now, when you return to college, you'll meet a shy, introverted second-year student with black hair and eyes in the cafeteria. She'll be agitated after tripping and spilling her food. Be kind to her, take it slow—that's the friend you've been waiting for. Oh, and sorry, it'll definitely be in the cafeteria."
He bowed slightly and walked away. Daisy bowed back, thanking the mysterious gentleman.
She didn't quite believe his prediction, but she tucked it away in her heart.
Two days later, in the college cafeteria, she met exactly that girl. Their friendship began that day and lasted a lifetime—two old ladies still laughing together decades later. But that is a story for another time.
.....
Eric returned to the apartment, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. He stored everything in the fridge, changed back into his pajamas, returned the clothes to the cupboard, slipped quietly into the bedroom, saw Ruby still sleeping peacefully, lay down on his side of the bed, and drifted off to sleep.