Evening

. With trembling hands, she lit a candle. For a moment, she stared at the flame, her eyes glistening with tears. She was glad her parents weren't home; she could finally be alone with herself. She had had enough of this hopeless love. Once again, she realized the bitter truth that there was no chance of His love; she didn't want to delude herself any longer. She sighed and thought that it was slowly becoming a habit—that the boy she cared about didn't pay her any attention as a girl. As a friend, maybe even now. She wanted to scream out all this terrible pain. Because the worst thing is the heartache.

She blew out the flame with passion. If only she could end this foolish love so quickly and easily... She knew it wouldn't be like that; her heart would ache many more times before she woke up one morning knowing that He no longer meant anything to her. Although, somewhere deep inside, the pain of not being loved would remain.

She looked out the window; it was already dark, and the lights were visible in the houses. She liked evenings; they had something magical about them, not even because it was the time He came, but for the night itself. She sighed again and wiped away the single tear that was now rolling down her cheek. She stretched out in bed and buried her face in the pillow. She was utterly fed up with her surroundings. No one could understand her, and no one even tried. Everyone had their own problems and couldn't see that something was happening. With her. Yes, she understood. Sure, everyone has their own life, but at least she tried to help others. No one tried to help her. And that hurt too. She curled up and covered herself with a blanket.

A key rattled in the lock.

"It's better if they think I'm asleep," she thought, and closed her eyes.

Her

parents were teasing in the room:

"You love that dog more than me!

" "You don't! I love you above all else!"

How much she would give for words like that from his lips...

She was afraid of herself and the tenderness she felt when he was close. They were friends... This allowed her brief moments of closeness from time to time, which only made the whole thing hurt her even more. She missed him, even those words that mercilessly mocked everything, including her. This longing was hopeless; he didn't feel it at all. Besides, he'd already been to her today, they'd fooled around a bit. She knew how to hide this love. Nothing like practice, she thought bitterly, referring to the boy she'd liked before, even if the feeling wasn't mutual. Then it passed, painlessly; the pain had been there before; it was just that one day, walking home, she felt he meant nothing to her anymore. She still remembered that feeling—on the one hand, immense happiness, and on the other, a great emptiness...

If only he had so much in common with her... But no, the differences between them were enormous, she knew they were insurmountable, yet she couldn't do anything about this love... She

kept her true feelings buried deep, only surfacing on lonely evenings, more or less. With him, she was on guard, didn't want his pity. Sometimes it was hard to hide. She changed her blog posts, afraid he might find them, and then he would know everything. And that would be a disaster. She always kept up appearances; as far as she was concerned, no one would guess a thing. She was good at lying, pretending, hiding, and taking things that were truly important to her lightly—if the situation demanded it. And so it was now; no one guessed what it was all really like...

She heard her mother's voice telling her to go wash up, so she lifted her head, which had been buried in the slightly damp pillow. "Will it always be like this?" she thought bitterly, and stood up. Another terrible evening...

***

She tried to forget it all. And she almost succeeded... She had stopped caring about it all so much, and suddenly... Everything fell apart. One evening...

It was after seven, she was sitting in front of the computer (she sometimes claimed it was her greatest and unrivaled love) when she heard the doorbell ring. She felt a pang in her heart when she saw him standing before her. He wanted to go for a walk. So she went with him and the dog. It was cold as hell. They wandered and wandered, until they finally came to the spot where he and the others used to make bonfires. They talked about her best friend, whom he really liked, and that hurt too, but not at that moment. She comforted him and "pulled" a few things out of him. She was starting to feel cold, but she still wanted to check on the necklace he always wore around his neck. He stubbornly refused to give it to her, holding her hands, and suddenly she felt his arm around her waist. She felt herself shiver, it wasn't cold... Then he turned her to face him. She rested her head on his shoulder, wanting to cry. They were still talking, but her mind was so muddled she couldn't even understand what he was saying; all she could feel was his arms around her. Then she felt his lips on hers, and all she could think was, "Idiot, what are you doing?" She buried her head in his shoulder, feeling happy, but she knew he only wanted comfort; he didn't do it because he really liked her. She supposedly understood, but she still felt so sad...

It was late, and she had to go back. He took her hand and walked her all the way to her apartment. She was afraid someone she knew would notice and leave, that they were together—she was afraid for his sake, he... would have some trouble...

At home, she found her parents insulted for their late return. Her father only told her she had to lick her lips in the cold. She mechanically confirmed this and went to her room. She remembered all this, suddenly feeling good; she had dreamed of it, and now... So what if he had to explain it tomorrow? She already had memories... He had no idea how much it meant to her. She thought it had nicely ended a chapter in her life, because she no longer wanted this love, no longer wanted to suffer.

***

He promised he would come the next day. She was waiting for him; after a night spent thinking, she knew how to behave and felt confident. She smiled sadly at the thought of what he must be going through now. "It's not my problem anymore," she sighed. "He came very late." They chatted about various things, he stubbornly skipped that evening, which suited her—she felt in control, after all. Finally, as he was leaving, he told her: "I'm sorry..." He took a long time to gather his strength! "—the malicious imp whispered quietly within her, and aloud she replied that she understood. She thanked him, as she had imagined, for a beautifully closed chapter of her life. He asked about the title, the content... She fell into thought. There was no title, but the content... What had happened until now. Now it will be completely different, she added silently, "I want to forget about you..."

She returned home and despite everything, she felt no satisfaction. She felt regret... She closed her eyes for a brief moment and tried to shake it off. She bit her lip and felt that pain again. "It was so good already, I almost forgot... And I'm right in the middle of it again. And that pain again, no, I think I'm about to go crazy!" She went to sleep. She tried to drown it out, but she couldn't. She waited with resignation for sleep, but it

didn't come... She got up and took a few sedatives. After half an hour, she felt herself finally falling asleep.

She heard the doorbell ring again. She answered, and of course it was him. She was talking casually, as always, hiding her true feelings. Moreover, he seemed tense. The tension rubbed off on her. She nervously fiddled with her hairpin. He made a few allusions, but she was again confused, unable to answer them—and remained silent. He asked her to sit down, her whole body shaking, and he said he intended to tell her something, but not now. Perhaps even today... She usually insisted in such situations, but now she couldn't. She sat frozen, unable even to get up and turn on the light. She felt something was about to happen—and she was afraid of it. He was staring straight into her eyes; she couldn't bear it, and she stared at everything but him. Finally, she turned to the wall and began scratching at it. This irritated him a little; he wanted to say something, and she was clearly avoiding him. He asked if she wanted to know. Quietly, in a voice unfamiliar to her, she replied, "Yes." "Then why do you keep looking at that wall and not at me?" he asked. She turned away for a moment, but his gaze forced her to lower her eyes. She was staring at her pants when he suddenly asked her to give him her hand. Surprised, she offered it to him, he took it in his, and she heard his quiet, tense voice, "Do you want to be my girlfriend?" She didn't dare look at him. A thousand thoughts raced through her head, hesitations, fears, all that pain, and finally she replied quietly, still not looking at him, "Well..."

It wasn't the best answer, she felt it, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything more. He just rested his head on her knee (he was still holding her hand) and sighed. She knew, she simply knew, that he was smiling, even though she couldn't see her. Finally, she dared to look at him—and a wave of tenderness washed over her. She wanted to hug him, but she did nothing, just stared at him and stared... He seemed to sense it, raised his head, and sat down beside her. He put his arm around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. They were both silent. Only after a while did they start talking again, seemingly normally, but somehow different... She trembled and couldn't adjust to the situation. She knew she should be happy, she was happy, but for now, she couldn't believe it...

Her mother called her into the apartment. She said goodbye to him, but at home, she couldn't talk. She took her diary, wrote down her feelings, and only then did she feel happiness welling up from somewhere inside...

She finally felt loved...