Morning (4:00 AM)
Leena woke up suddenly.
There was no dream—only that familiar restlessness that woke her before every new day.
The room was soaked in half-darkness. Outside the window, night still lingered, but the air carried a faint hint of morning approaching.
She had been sleeping on the couch.
As always.
A bed had never felt like something permanent to her—just like a home never did.
In the apartment, her belongings were few.
Two bags.
Just two.
Neither of them had been unpacked yet.
Leena never unpacked her things.
She never knew how long she would stay somewhere.
Or when she'd have to gather everything again and leave.
It wasn't a habit—it was preparation.
She got up and walked barefoot across the cold floor.
She opened one bag.
Then the other.
She was looking for something—she didn't even know what.
Disappointment slowly spread across her face.
Her gaze drifted to the small storage room near the door, a room she had never opened before.
It was filled with the previous tenant's belongings.
Leena took a deep breath.
"What harm could it do to check once?" she whispered to herself.
As soon as the storage room door opened, the smell of dust and old time rushed out.
There was barely any space to step inside.
Boxes, broken lamps, old chairs—everything lay scattered and chaotic.
She climbed onto one of the boxes.
Opened them one by one.
Some things were useless.
Some were memories—just not hers.
Then her eyes landed on an old wardrobe in the corner of the room.
Its door was stuck.
Several boxes blocked the way.
Leena moved them aside.
It took some effort—but the door finally opened.
Inside…
Clothes.
Women's clothes.
A faint smile appeared on her face—like she had stumbled upon something unexpected.
Without thinking much, she carried all the clothes into the drawing room.
She didn't touch the rest of the items at all.
They meant nothing to her.
One dress made her pause.
A yellow and white striped dress.
Covered in dust.
She shook it—but the dust refused to leave.
Leena went to the bathroom, washed the dress, wrung it out, and hung it on the balcony.
Then she turned back—but her mind was already racing against time.
Some things felt like they were slipping out of her hands.
She hurried into the shower.
Leena always bathed simply—no lingering, no indulgence.
As if she wanted to cleanse her mind more than her body.
From one of the bags, she took out a small box.
Cream.
A little makeup.
Just enough so she wouldn't look tired.
She dried her hair.
Left it open.
The dress still wasn't completely dry.
She pressed it—carefully, hurriedly.
When she put it on, the neckline fell low.
Old marks were clearly visible on her skin.
At first, she put on a jacket.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
Then she took off that same jacket—old, dirty, slightly torn.
Her eyes fell on her shoes.
Dirty.
Worn out.
"These won't do," she murmured softly.
But she had no choice.
The sun was already up.
The clock showed 9 a.m.
She had spent the entire morning just getting ready—
as if trying to turn herself into someone else.
Leena put on her dirty shoes, picked up her bag, and stepped outside.
As she walked toward the lift, the apartment closed behind her in silence.
As if it already knew—
Leena had come here to stay for a while,
not to belong.Leena stepped out of the apartment and pulled the door shut behind her.
The click of the lock echoed for a second longer than it should have.
She stood there, keys still in her hand, as if waiting for something to stop her. Nothing did.
The corridor was empty. The building smelled faintly of dust and old paint—temporary, like everything else in her life. She walked toward the lift, her worn shoes scuffing softly against the floor. When the doors closed, her reflection stared back at her from the metal walls. She didn't recognize the woman looking at her.
Outside, the morning had fully arrived.
Leena usually walked. Sometimes she used her bicycle. Today, she didn't.
She raised her hand and stopped a taxi.
As the car moved through the streets, she watched the city wake up—shops opening, people rushing, life moving forward without hesitation. She rested her head against the window, then straightened suddenly.
"I want to look great," she murmured to herself.
The taxi stopped near a shop. Leena stepped inside, her eyes going straight to the shoes. She chose a pair of flats—not too tall, simple, elegant. Something that didn't draw attention but didn't apologize either.
Outside, she removed her dirty shoes, placed them carefully into a plastic bag, and slid them into her backpack. Then she wore the new flats.
They fit perfectly.
She didn't smile—but something eased inside her chest.
Back in the taxi, she gave another direction. Not far.
The restaurant was quiet, refined. Too refined for her to feel comfortable. She hesitated at the entrance, smoothed her dress once, then stepped inside.
A boy was already seated at a table near the window.
He looked up the moment she approached.
She smiled first.
A small one. Controlled.
"Hi," she said, sitting across from him.
"Hi," he replied, studying her face. "How are you?"
"I'm fine," she answered quickly.
Too quickly.
Silence settled between them. Heavy. Familiar.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a folded paper, sliding it across the table toward him.
"Did you bring your things?" she asked.
"Yes."
"You look healthy," she said, scanning his face. "Are you okay? Do you want something to eat? Drink?"
"I'm fine," he repeated. Then paused. "How much time do we have?"
"One hour," she said.
She tapped the paper gently.
"In this account, there's enough money. It'll help you start tomorrow… and the days after that."
He stared at the paper, then at her.
"You planned all this?" he asked softly.
She nodded.
"You promise me something," she continued, her voice calm, measured. "You never come back. You forget everything about this place."
He swallowed.
She took out some cash and placed it beside the paper.
"Take this too."
He looked at the money, stunned. "This much… Leena, how did you arrange all this?"
"Don't worry," she said immediately.
From her bag, she took out a ring and placed it in his palm.
"I don't have many things from our parents," she said. "Only this. It was mother's."
His fingers curled around it instinctively.
"Start a new life," she said. "Be happy. Get a good job. Forget that you ever belonged here."
Then, after a breath—
"Forget that I exist."
His hand shot forward, gripping hers.
"No," he said, his voice breaking. "Come with me. I'll wait. I'll work harder. I'll arrange money. We'll both leave."
Her eyes hardened—not with anger, but with finality.
"Don't ever think of that," she said.
Silence again.
Then she glanced at her watch.
"Now it's time to go."
She stood, walked around the table, and pulled him into her arms.
The hug was tight—desperate.
He cried immediately, his body shaking as he clutched her. Tears soaked into her dress.
Leena didn't cry.
She held him steady, one hand on his back, the other at his neck.
"Live," she whispered.
"Live a good life."
He sobbed harder.
"Be happy," she said. "Start fresh."
She pulled back and looked at him.
Not a tear in her eyes.
Only resolve.
"Don't look back," she said softly.
He nodded.
Once.
Then he turned and walked away.
Leena stayed where she was.
She didn't follow.
Didn't call out.
Didn't move.
Only when he disappeared did her shoulders drop—just a little.
As if she had given away the last part of herself she was trying to protect.
And now—
There was nothing left to lose.