A Lightless Night
Just like the sky at that time.
Phrolova sat in the café, ordering the same coffee as the previous night. She gazed out the window at the night-shrouded street, quietly waiting for the person who might appear, or perhaps would never come again.
Perhaps, just like countless times in the past, he wouldn't show.
She thought she was already used to it, thought her heart had grown numb, that it wouldn't stir with even the faintest ripple from such waiting anymore.
So why, in the depths of the silence, was there still a flicker of faint expectation?
Her heart should have been closed, frozen; it shouldn't have retained any warmth for such appointments.
Why couldn't she completely let go?
She didn't know.
Or perhaps, she simply didn't want to know.
The young woman's emotions were very complex.
"Sorry I'm late."
The cafe door opened, the wind chimes ringing crisply, as if softly announcing his arrival.
Ray walked up to Phrolova and took a seat opposite her.
Phrolova didn't look up, just gently stirred the deep brown bitterness in her cup—though she hadn't added any sugar or milk. She was simply using this motion to silently vent emotions hard to put into words.
"You're late." The girl's voice was soft, almost blending into the low, ambient music in the shop.
Ray rubbed his nose, his tone a bit awkward. "Sorry, something came up at work, so..."
Phrolova interrupted him. "I don't want to hear excuses."
Ray was momentarily speechless, finally letting out only a soft sigh. "I'm sorry, that's my fault. How about this: to make it up to you, I'll treat you to a meal tomorrow, okay?"
Phrolova didn't speak, just looked at him quietly, her gaze unreadable.
"I heard a new barbecue place just opened on Bank Street. Want to try it together?" he ventured.
Phrolova slightly furrowed her brows, still watching him in silence.
For some reason, that gaze made Ray feel as if he'd suddenly plunged into an ice cellar, his breath catching.
"Uh, if you don't like barbecue, we could go for something else..." he added hastily. "Like dessert? I know a bakery with amazing cakes and pastries!"
Phrolova didn't respond, her gaze slowly shifting to the hazy coastline in the distance.
"A long time ago, at a concert, I met someone."
Her voice was so light, as if ready to scatter in the wind at any moment.
"I used to think no one in this world truly understood my music."
"My audiences were always exceptionally engaged, either frozen in place or trembling uncontrollably."
"But he was different. He understood. Beneath those wildly imaginative melodies, the destruction and rebirth I wanted to convey... he understood it all."
Ray quietly watched the girl's profile, not speaking, just being a silent listener.
At this point, Phrolova paused slightly. Then, an extremely faint smile touched the corners of her lips.
Whether that smile held nostalgia or release—he couldn't tell.
Or perhaps...
resentment?
"After the performance ended, we talked and got along wonderfully."
"That night, he told me many things and taught me many things. No matter how tortuous my past was, he always encouraged me."
"I was almost ready to let go..."
"Do you understand that feeling? When you fall into an icy abyss, and once genuinely believed, eagerly hoped, patiently stood in a despair-shrouded night, waiting for someone to pass by and pull you out of that world submerged in despair?"
"And he... did it."
This should have been a memory worth treasuring.
Yet, in the girl's eyes, there was an obscure, murky emotion.
"I saw him as my only soulmate, even fantasizing that he would be in the audience for every performance from then on."
"After that, I waited for him for a long time, personally composing many pieces for him."
"Before each time I took the stage, I would look toward the audience seats, hoping to see his figure once more."
"But..."
"I waited and waited, and he, never appeared again."
"He wouldn't come."
"Later, I understood..."
"He had long forgotten everything about that night, the resonance I cherished, the encounter I longed for, the response I anticipated for him, it was nothing but a fleeting illusion."
"Turns out I had never truly left that abyss."
"Everything... was just my own wishful thinking."
She murmured softly, shifting her gaze onto Ray.
"I hate you."
Ray fell silent.
He felt a chill run down his spine.
No wonder she held such deep-seated bitterness. Not only were her emotions, and possibly more, deceived, but she was also a seriously intense person.
'Sigh, what should I do now?
Do I really have to take the blame for that guy?
The problem is, I didn't do anything.'
"Ahem, Miss Phrolova," Ray swallowed with difficulty. "So, do you hate 'me,' or do you hate 'him'?"
"Is there a difference?" Phrolova tilted her head, speaking as if stating the obvious. "You look so much alike, as if stamped from the same mold."
"There's a huge difference!" Ray hurriedly explained. "You can't just pour all your emotions onto me just because I resemble him..."
"Where's the difference?"
"I value promises highly!"
"But didn't you just show up late?"
"That was an accident, and besides, I didn't break my promise," Ray said seriously. "That's the fundamental difference!"
"I don't see much difference," Phrolova replied flatly. "Being late is often just the beginning of breaking a promise."
"You can't say that..." Ray shook his head, finally letting out a soft sigh. "Never mind. If blaming me makes you feel better, I'll accept it."
Phrolova looked at him with interest. "You're taking it in stride quite quickly."
Ray spread his hands helplessly. "I can understand. When something like this happens, you need an emotional dumping ground."
"Oh, so you think I'm being unreasonable?"
'Tch, this woman is really difficult.'
"No, I absolutely don't think that."
"You'd better mean it." Phrolova gently stood up, walking toward the door. "Though, talking with you for a bit did actually improve my mood quite a bit."
She paused slightly, looked back at Ray, and a faint smile touched the corner of her mouth.
"Your performance was satisfactory."
"Remember to send me the location of that bakery."
She turned and pushed the door open, the wind chimes tinkling lightly.
"Then, see you tomorrow."
Ray sat there in stunned silence.
He watched Phrolova's receding figure, reflecting on the convoluted conversation they'd just had, and could only let out a soft, resigned sigh in the end.
"Well... at least that's some progress, right?"
.
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Bonus Chapter Alert!
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