Their faces remained dead serious, practically waiting to catch whatever reaction I was about to give. I took a slow, deep breath, letting the stale air leave my lungs before I finally spoke.
"It doesn't matter, as long as they suit each other. I have a crush on him, sure, but he doesn't feel the same way. Yeah, it's a little pity, but I'm honestly kind of happy to hear that he is dating such a beautiful lady."
Sayma immediately leaned over and wrapped her arms around me tightly. "Don't be sad," she whispered softly. "You deserve someone who will love you just as much as I do."
Her words brought a genuine smile to my face. I knew she meant it. Sayma was the one person who loved me the most, and I could never deny it because I felt the warmth of her love every single day. Sensing the moment, Alif leaned in too, throwing her arms around both of us until we were a tangled mess of cushions and limbs.
When the comfortable silence finally settled over the room, I broke it, looking between them. "So, what was the good news?"
"See it for yourself," Sayma said, a bright grin breaking across her face. She pulled out her phone, tapped the screen a few times, and then held it directly in front of my face.
I took the phone from her hand. I was unconsciously swinging my right foot, tapping it lightly against my left ankle. As my eyes scanned the document on the screen, my gaze froze. My eyes widened, my mouth falling completely open, and I slammed my left hand over my lips to stifle a gasp. I dropped the phone onto the mattress and screamed with absolute, unadulterated joy.
"Oh my god! Sayma! You... you got the visa?!"
"Yeah," she choked out, her own eyes suddenly filling with tears. "I got it."
"You actually did it!" I cried, throwing myself at her for another fierce, desperate hug, and Alif clamped onto us from behind.
Sayma had always dreamt of going to South Korea, just like I had always dreamt of going to China. Ever since she graduated from high school, she had poured all her energy into preparing for her departure. Meanwhile, I hadn't applied for China yet because I knew I needed more time—time to build a portfolio and to learn the Chinese language.
When I was younger, I never really knew what I wanted to be. My academic results had always been satisfying, so my parents naturally expected me to become a doctor. I never argued with them back then because I didn't have a dream of my own to fight for. It was only when I became a senior high school student that I developed a soft spot for Chemistry, which made me think about studying cosmetic science. But around that same time, a completely different desire began to take root inside me. I was a massive fan of films, and I desperately wanted to watch movie sets and shootings up close. That fascination made me want to become a professional makeup artist.
But honestly? I didn't even know how to apply eyeliner properly back then. I had to give up on that dream because applying for a subject like that required a professional portfolio—something I didn't have and didn't even know how to create.
When I finally passed high school, the pressure from my family became suffocating. They wanted me to get admitted into any public university immediately, but my heart was set on leaving for China. Day by day, the tension at home grew worse. They constantly compared me to my mom's cousin's son, who was studying day and night for the public university admission tests. It wasn't just him, though; every single high school graduate in the country was fighting for a spot in a public university. Getting in was notoriously brutal—the seats were incredibly limited, and more than a hundred students would fiercely compete for a single slot because public universities were prestigious and tuition-free.
In the middle of all that chaos, I decided to take a gamble and sit for the admission test in the Fine Arts field. Painting had always been my hobby, something I felt genuinely passionate about. I figured that if I couldn't be a makeup artist, I could still be an artist. I set my mind to it, found my true direction, and took the exam. By some stroke of absolute luck, I was selected.
I had gotten into the university—the top, most prestigious public university in the country, the one every student dreamed of entering.
After that, I promised myself that I would try my absolute best, hone my skills, and eventually get out of this city to pursue my dreams in my destination country. I just needed a little more time to build my portfolio and learn the language. I always knew Sayma would leave before me, but I promised myself that if I couldn't go for my bachelor's degree, I would definitely go for my master's.
Sayma was set to leave in late February. Even though I was incredibly happy for her, a sharp pang of sadness hit my chest knowing she was leaving me soon. She was like my other half—the person who brought a hundred percent change into my completely stagnant, zero-percent life. Because of her, I finally understood what the word "best friend" actually meant. We had gone through so many misunderstandings and so many chaotic incidents over the years, but neither of us had changed even a fraction of a percent. I only hoped we would stick together forever.
Time slipped away from us, and as the evening grew late, Sayma and Alif finally stood up to leave. They began stuffing their belongings back into their bags. I sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, watching them get ready.
"I'm going to start attending my university classes and Chinese classes again," I murmured, my eyes dropping down to the pattern on my bedsheet.
No one answered right away. The rustling of bags suddenly stopped. I looked up and found both of them frozen in place, their hands still resting on their zippers, staring at me in silence.
I broke the quiet, forcing the words out past the lump in my throat. "I can't keep staying like this. Even if I'm stuck in one place or feel like I can't move, the outside world is moving incredibly fast. Nothing is going to stop and wait for me. If I stop now, it will be my own great loss."
Sayma's expression softened, and a beautiful, proud smile broke across her face. "Let's move forward then, together. We both have a destination to reach."
Alif let out a deep, relieved exhale, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "See you this Friday at Chinese class, then. I'll send you all the lecture notes you missed while you were absent."
I nodded, feeling a heavy weight lift from my shoulders.
After they left, the room fell quiet again, but as I lay back down on my bed, I felt a profound sense of ease that I hadn't experienced in weeks. Talking to them had washed away the suffocating grief. As I closed my eyes, the memory of the anonymous text flashed in my mind—the one I had left hanging.
I picked up the phone, thought for a brief moment, and typed a reply: But you sound way more like a stalker than a lover boy. You're not going to gain anything by doing these kinds of things. I'm not some naive girl who's just going to fall into your trap.
I pressed send and finally got off the bed. I walked over to the windows and pulled back the heavy curtains that had kept my room in total darkness for the past two weeks. I slid open the glass door to the balcony and sank into my old bean bag chair.
I loved my balcony. From here, I could feel the spray of the rain, watch the vibrant colors of the evening sky fade away, and let the cool, healing wind wash over me. It felt like I hadn't truly breathed in weeks, and now, I just wanted to inhale the night air. I let my muscles loosen, leaning my head back against the chair.
It was a beautiful, windy night. Closing my eyes, I slipped my earphones in and let the music drown out my thoughts. A song began to play, the lyrics echoing softly in my ears:
Hold my breath
Run away from this mess
Look to the light instead
It's time to forget
Broken pieces
Of our memories
Stolen, frozen
In the river
They're lost in a song
Taken from where they belong...
I gradually dozed off, the music lulling me into a light sleep.
Chime.
The sharp notification sound forced my sleepy eyes open. The song was still humming quietly through the earphones. I unhitched my phone and looked at the screen.
"Seems like you hate me."
Half-blinded by the glare and still groggy from sleep, I typed back: Your actions aren't exactly something to like.
I looked around the balcony. The world outside was pitch black; it was already 11:00 PM.
Chime.
"So, the only reason you hate me is because you think I'm your stalker?"
What else could the reason be? I shot back.
The next reply came instantly, making my heart completely stop.
"Then let's meet. I'll be on your house's rooftop in a few minutes."
My eyes flew wide open, all traces of sleep vanishing in a fraction of a second. My heart dropped straight into my stomach. A cold, paralyzing dread washed over me. What should I do? My mind went entirely blank, unable to process the sheer audacity of the message.
The rooftop.
A sudden shiver ran down my spine. The terrifying thought hit me: What if he's out there right now, watching me from somewhere?
Panicking, I scrambled out of the bean bag, bolted inside my room, and slammed the balcony door shut, pulling the curtains tightly closed. I began pacing frantically between my bed and the door, my hands shaking violently as I muttered under my breath.
"I can't meet a strange stalker at this hour... I can't. But what if I don't go? What if he gets angry, breaks through our front door, and kills all of us?"
The wild, terrifying scenarios raced through my head, my frantic mumbling filling the quiet room. And right at that exact, horrifying moment—
Ding-dong.
The loud, clear chime of the front doorbell echoed through the house. My soul practically left my body in sheer, unadulterated terror.