The morning after..

The apartment fell silent the moment Lara closed the door behind her.

I stood there for a few seconds, staring at the door as if she might suddenly come back with another excuse to stay. Instead, all I heard was the soft ticking of the clock in the living room and my own breathing.

I was the one who told her to go home. I let out a sigh.

She had rushed here the moment Aaron texted her. I still didn't know what he had written after that or why he sounded so urgent, but she had left her house without thinking twice. Her father lived in another city because of work, so it was just her and her mom most of the time. She was probably worried sick by now.

A small smile found its way onto my face.

"Lara must be getting a lecture right now."

Knowing her, she'd somehow turn it into an argument and still come out smiling.

The smile disappeared as quickly as it came.

My body felt heavy, almost glued to the couch. Every muscle ached, not from physical pain but from everything that had happened tonight.

And somehow...

My thoughts kept drifting back to Aaron.

I barely knew him.

In fact, I didn't know him at all.

Yet he stayed.

He helped me.

He walked me home without asking for anything in return.

People weren't usually kind without expecting something.

At least, that's what life had taught me.

The ticking of the clock grew louder in the silence.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

I looked up.

Four in the morning.

"So that's why I feel like I've been hit by a truck."

My own voice startled me. It sounded strange in an apartment that had become too quiet.

I leaned back and pulled the  blanket over myself. Going to my bedroom felt impossible, and honestly, I didn't have the energy to try.

The couch wrapped around me, warm and still.

For a brief moment, I wished it would swallow me whole.

Let me disappear.

Let tomorrow forget I ever existed.

Just for one day.

Before another thought could find me, sleep finally did.

Warm sunlight brushed against my face.

I frowned and slowly opened my eyes.

For a second, I forgot where I was.

Then the familiar ceiling came into focus.

The living room.

The couch.

Last night.

I reached for my phone.

7:20 a.m.

On any other day, I would've jumped to my feet in panic.

I'd rush to the bathroom, get dressed in record time, throw my hair into whatever looked decent, grab my bag, and run to university, hoping I wasn't too late for my first lecture.

Today...

I simply stared at the ceiling.

"One day won't hurt."

I closed my eyes again.

Just one day.

One day away from lectures.

One day away from pretending everything was normal.

One day away from people.

I wanted to sleep.

I really did.

But my mind had other plans.

I turned onto my left side.

Then my right.

Pulled the blanket higher.

Threw it away.

Flipped the pillow over.

Closed my eyes.

Opened them again.

After what felt like forever, I checked the time.

Only forty minutes had passed.

I let out a defeated sigh and sat up.

"So much for that."

Silence greeted me again.

The apartment looked exactly the same as it had every morning.

The mug from yesterday still sat on the center table.

One cushion had slipped onto the floor.

The blanket hung halfway off the couch.

To anyone else, it probably looked clean.

To me.....

It looked messy.... enough to keep me busy.

Ever since moving back into this house, my days had become painfully predictable.

University from eight to two.

Then straight to the library.

Sometimes I studied.

Sometimes I buried myself inside books or novels until the librarian practically kicked me out.

If I wasn't reading, I was working on my laptop, finishing assignments before anyone else even started them.

By the time I came home, it was already evening.

Most of my chores happened at night.

Laundry.

Cooking.

Cleaning.

Sundays weren't much different.

If I wasn't hanging out with Lara which i ocasionally do , I was buried under assignments.

The problem was...

My annoyingly responsible self had already finished everything.

There wasn't a single assignment left.

No book I felt like reading.

No lecture to attend.

No excuse to keep my mind occupied.

I looked around the apartment again.

It felt...

Different.

Not lonely.

Just...

Too quiet.

For the first time in a long while, I actually wanted to go outside.

Not to university.

Not to the library.

Just somewhere.

Anywhere.

But not alone.

A smile escaped me.

"Lara would kill me if I went exploring without her."

I glanced toward the hallway leading to my bedroom.

Until she was free...

I needed something to do.

Maybe cleaning the apartment would help.

Or maybe a shower.

People always said a shower made them feel refreshed.

Worth a try.

I stretched my arms above my head, feeling my back protest, then slowly made my way toward my bedroom.

The wooden floor felt cool beneath my feet.

Morning light spilled through the windows, leaving golden patches across the hallway.

As I reached the bathroom door, my eyes instinctively lifted.

The mirror.

It was smaller than the others in the house.

Simple.

Plain.

Almost forgettable.

Yet...

It was the one mirror I hated the most.

I don't know how long I stood there.

Maybe a few seconds.

Maybe longer.

Long enough for my own reflection to look unfamiliar.

People always said your home reflected who you were.

Mine reflected someone else...

I stared into those familiar eyes.

The same shape.

The same face.

The same features everyone loved to point out.

"You look exactly like your mother."

I hated that sentence.

Every single time someone said it, I found myself wishing for something impossible.

I wished I had inherited my father's eyes.

His smile.

His nose.

Anything.

Anything except the face staring back at me.

I lowered my gaze before I could look any longer.

Not today....

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