question and answers

Alix stepped into the elevator, his movements slow and mechanical, as if every part of him were weighed down by a quiet, unseen burden. He did not think about where he was going—his fingers moved on their own, reaching out to press the button marked with the number six. The doors slid shut with a soft, almost final sound, cutting him off from the rest of the world, and the elevator began its smooth, silent climb upward. He stood leaning lightly against the wall, his eyes fixed on the closed metal doors, his mind drifting far away to places he could no longer reach, yet could never truly leave behind. He had no way of knowing that in just a few moments, the line between what was real and what existed only in his mind would blur until he could no longer tell them apart.

With a soft chime, the elevator slowed and came to a halt. The doors began to slide open, and as the gap widened, Alix felt his breath catch in his throat until it seemed he could not breathe at all.

Standing right there, just beyond the threshold, was her.

It was not a face he had seen once or twice, nor was it someone he had merely passed by on the street. He knew this face better than he knew his own reflection. It was the very same girl who had walked through his dreams night after night, for longer than he could even remember. She stood there looking at him, her expression soft and familiar, as if she had been waiting for him all this time, as if she had never truly been anywhere else.

His heart gave a sudden, violent lurch, then began to beat so hard and fast he could feel the pulse throbbing in his temples. It felt as though his chest might burst open, that this wild, desperate rhythm would carry him away entirely. He stared at her, scarcely daring to blink, terrified that if he looked away for even a single moment, she would vanish before he could be certain she was really there.

Slowly, almost against his own will, he took a step forward. Then another. He moved toward her as one might approach a fragile flame that could be snuffed out by the slightest breath, his hand lifting slightly as if he wished to reach out and touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin and prove to himself that she was not merely a trick of his mind. But the moment he drew near enough that he could almost see the light in her eyes, she began to fade.

It happened so gently that at first he could scarcely believe it was happening. She did not turn and walk away—she simply became less solid, as if she were made of mist or smoke that was slowly dissolving into the air. He stood frozen, his hand still outstretched, watching until there was nothing left but empty space and the quiet hallway beyond. For a long moment he remained there, staring at the spot where she had stood, his chest rising and falling with uneven, ragged breaths, feeling as though something precious had been torn away from him all over again.

"Alix? What is the matter? You look as if you have seen a ghost."

The voice came from close by, calm and steady, cutting through the fog that had wrapped itself around his mind. He turned his head slowly and saw the doctor standing a few feet away, looking at him with deep concern. Alix dragged in a long, shaky breath, pressing one hand over his heart as if he could hold it still by force.

"Doctor…" he began, and his voice came out rough and unsteady, almost a whisper. "I saw her again. That same girl—she was standing right here, just as real as you are standing before me now."

The doctor’s expression grew serious, the lines of worry deepening on his face. He stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on Alix’s shoulder. "Come with me. Let us go to my room and sit down. You cannot stand here like this."

Alix followed him in silence, his mind still lingering on the image that had so quickly disappeared. When they reached the office, the doctor poured a glass of cool water and pressed it into his hands, waiting quietly while Alix drank a few sips, his hands trembling slightly as he held the glass. Only when he had set it down did the doctor pull a chair close and sit facing him.

"Tell me," he said gently, his voice steady and kind. "Does she come to you often? Do you see her in your dreams?"

Alix leaned back in the chair, his shoulders slumping as if all his strength had finally left him. He looked tired—so very tired, as though he had been carrying a weight that no one else could see for years and years without rest. "Every night," he answered quietly, his eyes fixed on the floor. "She comes to me every single night. There is not a night that goes by when I do not see her face, when I do not hear her voice."

"Do you know who she is?" the doctor asked. "Is she someone you might have known, or perhaps someone you have only imagined?"

Alix gave a faint, sad nod, and there was a softness in his expression that came only when speaking of something deeply, painfully loved. "I know her," he said. "I know her better than anyone else in this world. It is not as though I have only seen her face once and remembered it—she is a part of every thought I have, every moment I live."

"Then… was she someone you met in real life?" the doctor asked carefully.

A faint, bitter smile touched the corners of his mouth, filled with a kind of longing that seemed to go on forever. "Yes," he said. "We met. We met more times, and we knew each other more deeply, than most people ever do in a whole lifetime. I do not think there are two people in this world who have ever known each other as well as we did. It feels as though we had known each other in a hundred different lives, long before we ever met in this one."

The doctor looked surprised, leaning forward a little, his gaze thoughtful. "Do you know her name?"

At that question, Alix’s face softened completely, and for a moment it seemed almost as though he were not sitting in a doctor’s office at all, but standing somewhere far away, speaking to her directly. "Yes," he said very softly. "I know her name. It was Heele min . That was her name—Heele min ."

There was a long silence in the room then, heavy and still. The doctor watched him for a moment, choosing his next words with great care, knowing that what he was about to ask might open a wound that had never truly healed. "Alix…" he began slowly. "Is she still alive? Is she out there somewhere, or…"

He did not finish the question, but Alix understood what he meant. He looked up at once, shaking his head quickly, almost violently, as if trying to push away the very idea. "No," he said, and his voice broke sharply on the single word. "No, she is not alive. Not at all. She is gone, Doctor—she is gone from this world, and she will never come back."

Tears rose in his eyes then, welling up and spilling over before he could stop them, running down his cheeks in quiet, endless streams. He did not try to wipe them away, but sat there letting them fall, as if he had been waiting a very long time to let them come. "She is not alive," he whispered again, as if saying it would make him believe it himself, even though believing it hurt more than anything else ever had. "She left this world a long time ago, and I have been alone ever since."

"calm and tell me how you meet heele min " doctor said.

[to be continue ]

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