The girl stood at the edge of the platform, tall but heavy with thought. Her head was bowed, and her black hair fell over her face, hiding everything ahead of her. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking. She remained there, still and silent, as though she had already shut herself away from the world around her. In the distance, the sound of the approaching train began to hum through the station. People who had been sitting stood up to prepare for departure. Everyone stayed behind the caution line painted for their safety—everyone except Alice. She did not move at all. From afar, she looked like a frozen figure, placed there by chance. No one stepped toward her. No one called out. Why would they? In a world shaped by selfishness and cruelty, people think first of themselves. What would they gain from helping her? A brief moment of recognition? A place in the crowd? People forget heroes quickly. So each person kept their head down, focused on their concerns, and comforted themselves with the thought, “Someone else will warn her.” Alice stood in a torn pink jacket, its faded color stained with dirt. It hung loosely on her, making her look almost like a homeless girl—but there was something more fragile about her, as if she were trying, and failing, to belong in a world that had already pushed her aside. The fabric on the right side of her jacket was ripped open, a jagged hole exposing the wear beneath. Her blue-and-white striped skirt shifted slightly in the wind as she waited at the edge. Isn’t that the cruel irony of it all? The people around her were waiting for the same train, yet for entirely different reasons. Some would ride it home to their families, to warm meals and familiar voices. Others were returning from long days, carrying the quiet pride of promotions or small victories. One man, clutching his suitcase, was on his way to the hospital to meet his newborn baby. And then there was Alice—waiting not for arrival, but for an ending.
Ten meters away stood a boy. He was in his early adulthood, around nineteen, with messy hair and a pair of glasses hanging from the front pocket of his shirt. In his hands, he held an envelope—something that might have seemed ordinary to anyone else, but to him, it carried a weight beyond measure. To others, it was just a sheet of paper. To Marco, it was everything. Its value wasn’t in money, but in meaning. It held answers—answers he had spent years chasing. People save for different dreams. Some save to travel the world, others to buy things they’ve always wanted. But Marco had been saving for something far more personal: the chance to find where he came from. He had grown up in an orphanage, surrounded by other children with stories just as uncertain as his own. He never considered himself to be especially talented, but he worked harder than anyone else. That ‘s what set him apart. Upon reaching adulthood, he secured a position as a bartender at a local pub, enduring long nights for minimum wage and diligently saving every penny he could. He tirelessly worked day and night, all for the prize—this single envelope. After nearly six months of relentless work, he had finally made the request. Ten days later, the letter arrived. Now he was on his way back to the small rental house he shared with five others, his tiny room tucked away on the top floor. The envelope rested in his hands, heavier than it looked. Excitement, fear, and uncertainty crashed through him all at once. One moment, he felt on the edge of breaking down, his eyes threatening to spill over. The next, he found himself grinning so widely it almost hurt. But there was one thing he didn’t have— the courage to open it. So instead, he held it tightly and walked toward the train station.
He hurried down the stairs, skipping steps like a child who couldn’t contain his happiness. Reaching the bottom, he turned left, already heading home. The envelope was still in his hands. He stopped. Closing his eyes, he pressed it between his palms, as if holding something sacred. He tilted his head slightly upward, whispering a quiet thank you—to fate, to chance, to whatever had brought him this far. He was about to open it. Then something shifted. His head turned—just slightly at first—then sharply. There she was. The girl at the edge. The train was already approaching, its roar growing louder, the warning sounds cutting through the air. People stood safely behind the line, but she hadn’t moved. She stood too close. Too still. Marco froze. His mind went blank for a brief moment. Then panic flooded in—but beneath it, something stronger. A feeling he couldn’t explain, only trust. Run. He didn’t think anymore. He moved. The envelope slipped from his hands, falling to the ground—forgotten. The very thing he had worked months for, the thing that meant everything to him, lost its importance in an instant. He ran. The train had entered the platform now, its screeching metal and piercing signals filling the station. The noise was overwhelming. The girl had shifted—her right foot edging dangerously forward. Another second, and around them, people began to notice. Conversations stopped. Phones lowered. Pages remained unturned. A quiet, collective realization spread through the crowd. Something was wrong. But no one moved. No one except Marco. The conductor blasted the horn, brakes screaming, but the train couldn’t stop in time. Marco pushed harder, faster—his breath burning and his heart pounding in his ears. Then— he leapt. His hand caught the torn fabric of her jacket. He pulled with everything he had. They fell back together, momentum carrying them onto the hard platform. For a moment, there was only the sound of the train rushing past—and then silence. The girl lay in Marco’s lap, both of them on the ground, the world around them frozen in shock.
At the far end of the platform, a guard finally noticed them. Where he had been before all of this unfolded, no one could say. Perhaps he had been there all along, just not looking closely enough. If people always did their jobs properly, maybe no one’s life would ever hang so close to the edge. But that isn’t how the world works. People grow tired. They drift. They wait for the end of the day, just to rest and begin again the next morning. A cycle that repeats itself over and over—wake, work, endure, sleep. A life that feels, in many ways, like a quiet kind of misery. Not because they want it, but because they have no choice. Responsibilities press down harder than dreams ever could. Bills need paying. Lives need sustaining. And so, they keep going. No real way forward. No easy way back. Just… stuck in the endless rhythm of it all.
For a moment, they remained pinned to the ground, the force of the fall still holding them there. It took time before either of them could fully gather themselves. Alice lay crumpled, one hand clutching her head, her body tense as if the pain inside her was louder than anything around her. She didn’t move. Marco, on the other hand, struggled to catch his breath. Each inhale felt sharp, unsteady. As his vision cleared, he became aware of the world around him—they were no longer alone. They had drawn everyone’s attention. The guard was rushing toward them, speaking urgently into his radio. Somewhere in the background, a voice shouted for an ambulance. Others stood frozen, staring wide-eyed, as if they had just witnessed something unreal. A few looked shaken, even trembling. Yet no one stepped forward. No one came close. They formed a loose circle instead, keeping their distance, waiting—watching—as if unsure whether to act, or simply hoping someone else would.
“What the hell are you doing?” Alice said, her voice shaking.
She was still holding her head, slightly dizzy. Her hair clung to her face, hiding most of her expression, though not completely.
“What am I doing?” she repeated, almost as if the question answered itself.
Marco blinked, confused. Everything had happened so fast it barely felt real, like a single frozen frame he couldn’t fully process.
“Why would you push me? ” she asked again, her voice quieter now—unsteady, breaking. She was crying.
The way she looked at him—
as if he were the one who had done something wrong.
As if he had taken something from her. Marco said nothing at first. His brows pulled together as he tried to understand her words, taking a slow breath, searching for meaning in them. Why would she say that? What could she possibly be going through to think like this?
“You were about to step onto the tracks,” he said finally, his voice firm despite the confusion. “You were going to end your life.” Around them, people were still watching. No one stepped in. No one interrupted. They remained where they were, as if this had become something to observe rather than something to act on. The guard had arrived, speaking urgently into his radio, calling for an ambulance.
“Don’t call an ambulance!” Alice suddenly shouted.
Pain and panic filled her voice. It wasn’t just resistance—it sounded like fear. Marco’s confusion deepened. Who was she? What had brought her to this point? He had always believed that no matter how hard life became, there was always a way forward. Not every smiling face meant a happy life—that much he knew. People carried hidden struggles all the time. But still—ending everything? It felt impossible for him to understand.
Her hair had fallen just enough to reveal half of her face. The dark circles under her eyes startled Marco. They weren’t just from a bad night—they looked deep, heavy, as if sleep hadn’t touched her in days. Tears streamed down her cheeks in steady lines, tracing the same paths over and over again. And yet— she was beautiful. Not in a perfect, effortless way, but in something more fragile. She looked innocent, lost, like someone who had been carrying too much for far too long. Marco felt something shift inside him. It wasn’t just concern anymore. It felt… familiar. As if, in some strange way, they shared the same kind of fate—both shaped by things they never chose, both pushed forward by forces they couldn’t control. He had always believed that life tested people differently. Some were born into comfort, surrounded by opportunities so common they barely noticed them. Others were not so lucky—born into circumstances where even the smallest chance felt distant, almost unreachable. And then there were people like him. People who didn’t even know where they came from. Marco had grown up in an orphanage, surrounded by unanswered questions he didn’t yet know how to ask. As a child, he had been too busy surviving, growing, adapting to the world around him to think about the past. But as he grew older—when the noise of simply getting through life began to quiet— those questions found him. And they didn’t let go. That was when he became determined. Determined to find his parents. Determined to understand why he was here at all.
A few moments passed before Marco finally began to steady his breathing. Watching her cry—truly cry—had shaken him more than anything else. Without thinking, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a few napkins he had taken from the pub where he worked. He gently held one out toward her.
“Here…”
“Get your hands off me!” Alice screamed.
Her voice was sharp, raw. Marco froze for a brief second—but he didn’t react harshly. He simply pulled his hand back slowly, quietly. Was this what he got for helping her? To her, he had ruined everything. But to Marco, no life was meant to end like that. Whatever the suffering was, he believed it couldn’t last forever. He exhaled and instinctively reached for his glasses— but they weren’t there. His hand paused midair. Gone. He looked around quickly, his eyes scanning the ground. After a moment, he spotted them a short distance away—lying broken, the frame split into two pieces. He stood up and walked over, picking them up carefully. He turned the pieces in his hands, studying the damage. Buying a new pair wasn’t an option. Not for him. He would have to fix them. He always did. But as he held the broken frame, something hit him. A sudden, sharp realization. His eyes widened. “The envelope—” Panic rushed through him. He dropped his gaze to the ground, searching frantically. His hands moved quickly—checking his pockets, front and back, over and over again. Nothing. He looked around, scanning every inch near him. Still nothing. It was gone. And just like that, everything inside him collapsed. The excitement. The hope. The fear. All of it crumpled at once, like a piece of paper crushed in a fist. For a moment— nothing else mattered. Then, in the distance, the sound of sirens began to rise. Louder. Closer.
As Marco heard the sirens growing louder, he drifted back toward the place where it had all happened. Within moments, the ambulance arrived. Paramedics rushed in, moving quickly and efficiently. They knelt beside Alice, checking her condition, speaking in calm but urgent tones. It turned out her leg was broken. But the intensity of everything—the shock, the adrenaline—had numbed the pain. That was why she hadn’t been able to stand. Carefully, they lifted her onto a stretcher and carried her into the ambulance. Around them, the crowd began to dissolve. The moment was over. Whatever had pulled people in—the shock, the curiosity—was fading. Conversations slowly returned, footsteps resumed, and the paused rhythm of life began moving again, as if nothing had happened. Marco stood there for a second, watching. Then he turned, ready to leave. But just as he took a step—
“How did this happen?” one of the paramedics asked the guard.
The guard hesitated. If he had been paying attention earlier, maybe none of this would have happened. But he hadn’t been there—not really—and now the question hung in the air. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.
“They… crashed into each other,” he said quickly. “Just an accident. They fell.”
His voice wasn’t steady. Marco heard it. But he said nothing. He didn’t want more trouble. Not now. Not when everything already felt like it was falling apart. Then the paramedic looked around again.
“Who’s the second injured person?”
The guard turned and pointed.
“This gentleman here.”
Before Marco could react, a firm hand took hold of his arm.
“You’ll need to come with us, sir,” the medic said.
Marco pulled back slightly. “I’m fine. Really, it’s not necessary.”
“I’m afraid it is,” she replied calmly. “It’s procedure.”
Marco hesitated. He was exhausted—physically from the fall, mentally from everything that had just happened. The broken glasses. The missing envelope. Six months of effort, gone in a moment. He didn’t have the strength to argue. So, without another word, he gave in. And slowly, he stepped into the ambulance— heading toward the hospital.
On the way to the hospital, the ambulance moved steadily through the streets. There was no urgency now—no sirens, no rush. The immediate danger had passed. The medics had stabilized Alice’s leg. She lay still on the stretcher, eyes closed, her breathing quiet and shallow. She didn’t even seem aware that Marco was there beside her. They treated Marco as well, gently cleaning the cuts and bruises on his arms to prevent infection.
“I’m fine,” he said quietly, noticing how careful they were being.
After that, he leaned back, letting the motion of the ambulance carry him. There was nothing else to do. Except look at her. Her face was pale—almost drained of colour. Her lips were dry, faint, as if the life had been pulled out of them. She looked exhausted in a way that went beyond physical pain. As if she had nothing left. Not even the will to keep going. Marco watched her in silence. Poor soul, he thought. It felt strange—how their paths had crossed at that exact moment. Out of all the places, all the times, he had arrived just as she was about to step forward. He didn’t understand it. But he couldn’t ignore it either. His thoughts drifted, slowly pulling him away from the noise of reality. The inside of the ambulance faded, and for a moment, it was just him… and the weight of everything he had seen. His eyes began to sting. A single tear slipped down his cheek. His brows tightened slightly, his head resting back as his mind wandered deeper.
Why did some people seem to carry more than others? Were some lives meant to be harder? Was it punishment… or something else entirely? Questions like these had always followed him. Even while studying, even while working, he found himself drawn into thoughts he couldn’t fully answer. Philosophy had become his way of trying to understand a life that had never given him clear beginnings. For years, he had searched for answers about his past. And just moments ago, he had lost the one thing that might have brought him closer to them—the envelope. The thought lingered—but strangely, it didn’t hit as hard as it should have. Not right now. Right now, something else weighed more heavily. The quiet suffering of the girl lying beside him. And as that feeling settled in, the sharp edge of his own loss began to soften.
Soon, they arrived at the hospital. Alice was rushed inside immediately, the medics moving quickly as they wheeled her down the corridor. Marco stepped out of the ambulance more slowly. He followed—not too close, but not far enough to lose sight of her. He kept his eyes on her. As if letting her out of view might somehow mean losing her again. Eventually, he was led into a ward and told to sit. The room was quiet, almost too quiet after everything that had happened. He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. Moments later, a doctor entered.
“What happened?” she asked, her tone calm but direct.
Marco hesitated. Then, without much thought, he repeated the same story the guard had given.
“It wasn’t serious… we just ran into each other,” he said. “Didn’t see it coming.”
In a way, it wasn’t entirely a lie. Alice hadn’t expected him to pull her back from the edge. And Marco hadn’t expected himself to act at all. In that sense, they really hadn’t seen each other coming. A strange kind of truth, hidden inside a lie. Marco let out a quiet breath, his thoughts beginning to spiral again. Was it just a coincidence? He didn’t really believe in that. To him, things happened for a reason—even if that reason wasn’t clear at first. But then why? Why did he have to lose the one thing he had worked so hard for—his only chance at finding his past—for someone he didn’t even know? The thought hit him harder than he expected. For a moment, frustration flared inside him. A quiet, internal conflict. Did it need a reason? He suddenly thought. Does saving someone’s life require justification? The anger shifted. Something steadier replaced it. At the end of the day, you don’t climb a mountain so the world can see you—you climb it for the view, for what it gives you. Whether anyone is watching or not doesn’t change its worth. Maybe it was the same here. Maybe doing the right thing didn’t need an audience. Didn’t need a reward. Didn’t need a reason. That thought settled something inside him. For the first time since it all happened, Marco felt a quiet sense of peace. He had lost something important. But— he had saved a life. And somehow, that mattered more.
Marco was told he could leave. But he didn’t. He had things to do—responsibilities waiting for him—but none of it felt as important anymore. He couldn’t bring himself to walk away without speaking to her. Without understanding. The girl he felt he was meant to meet. So he stayed. An hour passed. Then another. Marco sat quietly in the corridor, occasionally pacing back and forth, his thoughts drifting in and out. Time moved slowly, stretching in the silence. Then, suddenly, a nurse approached him.
“She’s awake,” she said.
Something in him softened. He stood up slowly, a quiet hesitation in his steps, and made his way toward the ward. When he entered, the room was still. Empty—except for her. Alice lay propped slightly upright, the bed inclined just enough to support her. She looked… better. Not fully recovered—her colour hadn’t completely returned—but far from the fragile state she had been in at the station. Her black hair fell loosely around her shoulders as she stared out the window. Lost in thought. Maybe she was seeing life differently now. Or maybe she was questioning everything. Marco stepped forward quietly, careful, almost unsure of his own presence. She hadn’t noticed him yet. To her, the room was still empty. Her memory of what had happened was only fragments—blurred pieces, not enough to form a clear picture. She didn’t remember him. Not really. Marco stopped a few steps away. He took a breath. Then another. And finally, he moved closer. As he did, Alice sensed someone near her. She turned her head slowly— and saw him. For a moment, neither of them spoke. That was the first time they truly saw each other.
“Who are you?”
Her voice broke the silence—quiet, uncertain, but sharp enough to stop him in place.
“I’m… Marco,” he said. “The one who caused you all this trouble.”
He expected anger. Resentment. Anything but what came next. Silence. She looked away, her gaze drifting back toward the window. A full minute passed before she spoke again.
“Thanks.”
The word was soft, almost reluctant—like she had to search for it. Marco didn’t know how to react. She didn’t sound relieved. She didn’t sound grateful. She sounded… conflicted. As if part of her wanted to hold on to something— and another part had already let go. He shifted slightly, feeling like he didn’t belong there. Maybe he was disturbing her.
“I should go,” he said quickly, almost rushing the words. Before she could respond, he turned and took a step toward the door.
“Wait.”
Her voice stopped him. He froze.
“Stay… with me.”
Marco hadn’t expected that. Not only was she not angry at him—she wanted him to stay. That alone felt unfamiliar. Growing up alone, he had never really known what it meant to belong to someone, or to have someone want his presence. There were no attachments, no moments like this. He had learned to live without expecting warmth, without needing it. Or at least— that’s what he had believed. But today, the day he had thought was the worst of his life, something had shifted. For the first time, he felt something different. Something real. It was small, fragile—but undeniable. A quiet sense of connection. He softened without realizing it. Slowly, he turned back. And then he noticed— she was looking at him the same way. Not with anger. Not with fear. But with something else. Something uncertain… yet searching. For a moment, it felt as though the world around them had faded, leaving only the space between them. As if, in that fragile silence, they both needed each other more than they understood.
“I’m… Alice,” she said softly.
There was a brief pause before she added, almost hesitantly, “Can you… Pour me a glass of water?”
Her voice carried a quiet uncertainty. She wasn’t really thirsty—not entirely. It was something else. A small attempt to hold onto the moment, to keep him there just a little longer. Marco nodded without question. He wasn’t going anywhere anyway. Not anymore. He had thought about leaving—earlier, when the weight of everything had felt too much—but now, standing here, he realized he couldn’t. Not when she looked like this. Not when she had asked him to stay. She, on the other hand, didn’t know that. To her, people always left. Once there was nothing left to gain, they disappeared. She didn’t want that to happen again. Marco reached for the glass and filled it slowly, carefully, almost deliberately in his movements. Then he stepped closer and held it out.
“Here.”
She took it gently. For a brief second, their fingers touched. It was nothing—just a moment, barely there— but it lingered. Both of them felt it. They looked at each other, caught in that quiet pause, as if something unspoken had passed between them. Then she lowered her gaze and took a small sip. Slowly. Carefully. When she handed the glass back, there was a faint smile on her face.
“Thank you, Marco.”
He didn’t reply. He simply stayed there, unsure of what to say, but certain that he didn’t want to leave.
“Sit,” she said softly. “Relax… we’ve had a long day.”
There was a lightness in her tone now—fragile, but real. As if, for a moment, everything that had happened earlier had drifted away. As if she had stepped out of that version of herself, even if only briefly. Like a flower, just beginning to open. Marco hesitated for a second— then did as she asked. They started talking. And somehow, without either of them saying it, they avoided the earlier part of the day entirely. No mention of the platform. No mention of what had almost happened. Instead, their conversation flowed easily—like two ordinary people meeting under ordinary circumstances. Like friends. Like they had known each other for much longer than just a few hours. They talked, and talked, and talked. Time slipped away unnoticed. The hospital grew quieter around them, the world outside continuing as it always did, but inside that room, it felt as if everything had paused just for them. They laughed. They shared small things—simple things—but somehow, those felt the most meaningful. And then, at one point, Alice smiled. Not just a faint smile, but a real one. It lit up her face in a way Marco hadn’t seen before. For a moment, she looked… untouched by everything that had brought her there.
“You have a beautiful smile,”
Marco said quietly. The words came out almost shyly, but they were honest. Completely. Alice froze for a second. Those words didn’t just reach her—they stayed. As if they had found a place inside her that had been empty for a long time. Something in her softened, something that hadn’t responded to the world in a while. She didn’t say anything right away. But it meant more than she could show. The moment lingered, delicate and rare. Then— out of nowhere— Alice let out a small sigh.
“Can you… Visit me tomorrow, too?”
Her voice was softer now. Uncertain. Marco blinked, caught off guard. The conversation had been flowing so naturally—so easily—that the question felt sudden. For a brief second, doubt crossed his mind. Did he say something wrong? Did she want him to leave? But that didn’t make sense. If anything, she was asking him to come back. Still, something about the way she said it felt like an ending. Like today was over. “Yeah… of course,” Marco replied. “Take care of yourself.” He stood up slowly, gathering his things—his broken glasses still in his hand. He looked at her one last time. Then turned and walked out. In the corridor, he paused briefly, spotting a nurse nearby. Even though he barely had any money, he reached into his pocket and handed her what little he could.
“Please… take extra care of her,” he said.
There was no real explanation. No label. Nothing to define what she was to him. But in that moment, she felt like the most important person in his world. And with that, Marco left the hospital— and began the quiet walk home.
The walk home was long. And exhausting. Marco had given away what little money he had to the nurse, wanting nothing more than for Alice to be taken care of properly. Strangely, the loss didn’t weigh on him as much as it should have. Not tonight. His mind was somewhere else. With her. Step by step, he continued through the quiet streets, heading home.
Back at the hospital, Alice broke down. The moment he left, the silence returned, heavier than before. Tears streamed down her face, uncontrollably this time. She was afraid. Afraid of what was happening inside her. For the first time in a long while, she felt something she thought she had lost— attachment. A fragile, dangerous kind of hope. A reason to stay. But it wasn’t enough. Because deep down, she knew something Marco didn’t. Something that made everything more complicated. She didn’t have much time left. And it wasn’t about him. That was what hurt the most. She didn’t want to pull him into it. Didn’t want to become another weight in his life, another story that would end badly. But at the same time, she couldn’t stop herself. She needed someone. She needed to feel… human again. Was this what it meant to truly live? To reach out, even when you knew it might hurt? Or was she making a mistake? The questions circled her mind endlessly, refusing to settle. And still— she cried.
The next morning, Marco woke up feeling… nothing. No excitement. No heaviness. Just a strange kind of emptiness. Still, he got up and went to work, stepping back into the routine of his usual life. Only this time, there was something different lingering in his mind— he was going to see Alice again. That thought alone carried a quiet kind of anticipation. When he arrived at the pub, everything felt familiar. The same counter. The same glasses. The same worn-out rhythm of daily life. Then his eyes landed on it. His tip box. Empty. For a moment, he just stood there, staring. And suddenly— everything came rushing back. The months he had spent saving. The long nights. The envelope. Gone. What he had lost hit him all over again. Yesterday had felt unreal—almost magical in a way. He had saved someone. He had met Alice. But now, standing there, reality returned. Questions began to fill his mind. Was Alice meant to come into his life? Was there a reason for all of this? Was she… someone important? He didn’t have answers. Only thoughts that circled endlessly. Then his gaze dropped back to the empty box. Slowly, he reached for it. He picked it up, paused for a moment, then set it aside. Instead, he placed another box in its place. Same purpose. Different container. Why? He didn’t know. There was no clear reason, no logical explanation. Just a quiet feeling— that something had changed. And whatever came next… wouldn’t be the same as before.
By the end of his shift, the new tip box had filled up more than he expected. Marco noticed it— but this time, it didn’t mean the same thing. Before, every coin had a purpose, a direction. It was all building toward something specific—answers, a past, a sense of identity. Now… that didn’t feel as important. Not compared to something real. Someone real. Alice. For the first time, he wasn’t focused on chasing something uncertain. He was focused on something present—something he could see, feel, and hold onto. And somehow, that felt enough. He gathered the money and stepped out into the evening. With it, he bought a small bouquet of roses. Nothing too extravagant—just simple, but thoughtful. Something that might make her smile. Because, without fully realizing it, her happiness had begun to reflect onto him—like a mirror. When she felt lighter, so did he. Before leaving his house that morning, he had taken something else with him. A small Bible. He didn’t know if Alice was religious. He didn’t know what she believed in, or if she believed in anything at all. But to him, it wasn’t about religion. It was about faith. Because in life, nothing is ever guaranteed. And when you reach a point where you’ve exhausted everything—when there’s nothing left you can do— faith is all that remains. And yet, it’s the one thing people often forget to hold onto. With the flowers in one hand and the small book in the other— Marco made his way toward the hospital.
As Marco arrived at the hospital, a quiet uneasiness settled over him. The corridors felt different tonight. Quieter. He made his way toward Alice’s room, his steps steady—but something in the air felt… off. Just as he approached, a nurse stepped out. Her head was slightly lowered, her expression heavy with sadness. But when she looked up and saw Marco— it changed. The sadness in her eyes deepened, as if she knew something he didn’t. As if he was about to walk into something he wasn’t prepared for. Marco slowed down. A strange feeling crept into his chest. The nurse’s eyes began to glisten. She looked at him for a moment longer before speaking, her voice softer than before.
“Alice is waiting for you.”
And then— she turned away quickly, wiping her eyes as she walked off, her steps faster than before, as if she needed to escape the moment. Marco stood there, frozen for a second. His grip tightened slightly around the flowers… and the small Bible in his other hand. Something wasn’t right. His mind tried to make sense of it—maybe she had just had a long day. Working in a place like this wasn’t easy. You saw too much, felt too much. Not everyone could carry that weight. That was something Marco understood. And something he wanted to help Alice understand, too— to show her that even in the heaviest moments, there was still something to hold onto. Faith. That was why he had brought the Bible. But still— that feeling wouldn’t leave him. He took a breath. Then slowly, he reached for the door.
As Marco stepped through the door, he stopped. This wasn’t the same girl he had seen yesterday. The fragile, broken figure from the platform was gone. In her place was someone… softer. Brighter. Almost unrecognizable. Alice sat on the bed, but she wasn’t wearing a hospital gown. Instead, she wore a simple black dress—one that contrasted perfectly with her dark hair, falling naturally around her shoulders. It made her stand out in a way that felt unreal, as if she didn’t quite belong in a place like this. She looked… beautiful. Not just in appearance, but in presence. There was a light about her now—quiet, but undeniable. Something that even the sunlight filtering through the window couldn’t compete with. For a moment, Marco forgot where he was. Stargazing suddenly felt meaningless—what were distant stars compared to the brightness in her eyes? Eyes that now held something they hadn’t before. Hope. And as he stood there, taking her in, even the most breathtaking views in the world felt distant, insignificant— because nothing could compare to what he saw in front of him. Alice.
Marco had always thought that patients were meant to wear hospital gowns—no exceptions. But he didn’t think about it for long. He couldn’t. Alice had taken over everything.
His thoughts. His past. His present.
Even the future he hadn’t yet lived.
He sat beside her. And somehow, the evening became perfect. Where there had been tears, there was now laughter. Where there had been fear of the future, there was a quiet sense of hope. Where the past once lingered, it no longer had a place. For a while, nothing else existed but the two of them. They opened the small Bible together, the pages soft beneath their fingers. Marco spoke gently, explaining certain lines, sharing what they meant to him—how he saw them, how he believed in them. Alice listened. Not because she was religious. She wasn’t. And in truth, she didn’t care much for the words themselves. What mattered… was him. His voice. His presence. The calm he brought with it. She would have listened to anything he said. Time passed quietly, almost unnoticed. Minutes blurred into something softer, something weightless. And for once, she didn’t feel like she was running out of it.
Time is a cruel thing. When you suffer, it stands still—cold and unmoving, like ice in the far north. But when you are happy… when you are with someone who means everything to you— it slips away like water through your fingers. And tonight— it was slipping. The evening was coming to an end. Marco glanced at the clock, then back at her.
“I should go,” he said softly.
But there was no weight in his voice. In his mind, this wasn’t an ending—just a pause. As if tomorrow, and every day after, would bring him back to her. As if this was something that would last forever. As if, somehow, they already belonged to each other.
“Can you stay… a little longer?” Alice asked.
There was something in her voice—fear. Not loud, not obvious—but there. Even in a room filled with light, the thought of him leaving felt like darkness closing in. Marco hesitated, then smiled gently.
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” he said. “We’ll have more time.”
But instead of relief, her expression changed. A quiet worry settled across her face. She looked away for a moment, gathering herself, then spoke again.
“…Don’t come tomorrow.”
Her voice was softer now. Distant.
“I have… some things to take care of.”
It sounded like an excuse. A fragile one. Marco didn’t question it. He simply nodded.
“Alright,” he said. “But it’ll be even better when you’re out of here. Then nothing can stop us.”
His words were filled with hope— too much hope. For a brief moment, something heavy passed over Alice’s face, like clouds covering the sun. But she smiled anyway. Even as tears slipped quietly down her cheeks. She didn’t stop them. She couldn’t. Marco stood there for a second longer, then turned and walked toward the door. And Alice— watched him leave. Until the very last second.
That night, Marco lay his head on the pillow. For the first time in his life— it had been a perfect day. All he could do was think about tomorrow. About seeing her again. About everything that could be. Sleep came easily. Too easily.
It was still dark outside when he woke. Suddenly. Violently. His body jolted upright, his breath uneven, his heart pounding so hard it hurt. For a moment, he didn’t understand where he was. Then it hit him. A nightmare. He sat there, shaking, sweat clinging to his skin. Minutes passed—five, ten, fifteen—but the feeling didn’t leave. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. In his mind, he could still see it— Alice. Calling his name. Slipping from his grasp, falling away from him into nothing. “No…” He stood up abruptly. Without thinking, he threw on his clothes, his hands trembling. Something inside him—something he couldn’t explain—was pulling him, forcing him to move. To go to her. Now.
The streets were empty as he ran. Faster than he ever had before. By the time he reached the hospital, it was 5:30 in the morning. He didn’t stop. He ran through the corridors, his footsteps echoing, his breath sharp and uneven. Then— he reached her door. He pushed it open.
And everything stopped. A nurse stood beside the bed. The white sheet had been pulled over her completely, covering her face. Marco froze. At that exact moment, the first light of sunrise slipped through the window, brushing against his face. A single tear fell. Quietly. Endlessly. And behind him, a voice spoke—
“Time of death… 5:20.”
