The next week drags on, the days blending into one: university, the dormitory, routine.
Sometimes I notice Katrin — she flashes against the backdrop of grey days, but as soon as I want to approach, she disappears into a group of her classmates, laughing, chatting, not noticing me. They are always discussing something, and I am merely an outsider observer.
Everything seems so easy and fun for her, and her every laugh fills the room with bright light, but not for me. To me, it feels like a stinging stab to the heart.
Friday comes. I don't know what to expect. On Monday, she will be in my path again.
Terror — that is what I call her sudden appearances. What is she trying to achieve? Does she think she can control me? Make me smoke, make me torment someone? If so, she is deeply mistaken.
I won't play her strange games, I won't just give in. I am not following her like a dog, and I won't fulfill her odd demands.
But despite all of this, something inside me suggests that she isn't just appearing in my life for no reason.
When classes end, I am already anticipating the return to the familiar silence. But the day goes differently.
I am not waiting for her, not thinking that she will approach. Yet she stands before me — like a storm that finds me in the calmest of places.
"I've been thinking, let's move everything up by two days. Today I'll come to your dorm, and in the evening we'll go to a party."
She simply presents me with the fact, as always. No hint of a conversation or an attempt to ask how I feel about it. Everything is decided, and it's as if I have no right to choose.
"A party? We didn't agree on this," I try to gather my words, trying to regain some control over the situation.
But her indifference and the ease with which she says it make me feel absolutely helpless. The girl doesn't think it necessary to explain, but simply moves on as if her desires were the only reality that matters.
I stand there, feeling irritation rising inside me. Her manner of dictating terms without considering my feelings wounds me to the core.
"I talked about fun, and I have fun there, and you know it yourself. If you've forgotten, you owe me. I'm not forcing you to do anything bad, just to go and dance with me. What's the big deal?" Her words sound as if all of this is so obvious that it doesn't even require a discussion.
I feel how her voice draws me in, forcing me to yield even if I don't want to. But a storm is raging inside – I am not going to compromise with myself, I don't want to submit to her will.
I don't have time to answer — she is already disappearing. Only her words remain, echoing in my head. As always, she leaves me no space for reflection.
I stand in the corridor with the feeling that I have been placed in a position where I can change nothing. What does she need? Why does everything always go by her rules? There are no answers — only emptiness and bewilderment.
Returning to the dormitory, I find Katrin. She is sitting on my bed, surrounded by bags, and talking to Dima. The scene is like something from a dream in which I am not the main character.
Only this time, Dima is on his bed, and she is on mine. I immediately feel uncomfortable. She has occupied the space that previously belonged only to me, like the mistress of this world, while I stand to the side as an observer.
Her laugh breaks the silence — resonant, bright, like a flash of lightning. Everything around seems like a celebration, where she is the main star. And I… I become only a part of the background.
It seems that wherever she appears, joy and laughter reign. She is always at the center, the main star of the performance, laughing louder than anyone.
I suddenly become curious: is she ever serious? If she ever has children, will she also act like a carefree child, endlessly playing and laughing without fatigue?
I watch her, feeling irritated. I don't want to be near, I don't want to belong to her world.
She is subtly beautiful: the black dress accentuates her figure, and her auburn hair falls softly on her shoulders. She looks like the embodiment of everything I consider superficial and insignificant.
And suddenly I realize: I don't want to be part of this. In her world, there is no place for people like me. There is only empty fun and bright stars shining against the background of other people's lives.
But what is she trying to achieve? Why does she make me feel like I am an extra? Where does this unwavering belief in her right to dictate to me what to do come from? Why does she always act this way? Why do I have to so reluctantly yield to her terms, even if I don't want to?
The girl looks at me – that same look that I know and hate. Confident, cheeky, as if I should have surrendered.
Katrin, as always, winks at me and says:
"Finally, you showed up! I thought you had already gone to the party without me."
"I wouldn't take a step without you, not when you're always right here," my words sound like a joke; I try to be light, but inside me, a strange mixture of irritation and confusion is thickening.
"Alright, guys, I have to go, you have fun here without me," says Dima, getting ready to leave.
"What is there to have fun about, if he doesn't know what that word even means?" the girl scoffs after her ex-boyfriend.
"I don't know?" I can't hold back, and there is more irritation in my voice than there should be. "It's just that my understanding of that word differs from yours."
Dima leaves, but our skirmish continues.
The girl, paying no attention to my irritation, seems not to realize how deeply she is wounding me. Her confidence and almost dictatorial approach to my every step make me feel invisible and helpless. In her eyes, there is only one thing — she knows I will be with her, no matter what she says.
"Don't ruin my evening and let's get ready," Katrin says with slight annoyance. "I bought you a few things, so at least thank me!"
"As if I asked!" I don't understand why she is trying so insistently to change my life.
I am about to leave, but she stands up, grabs my chin, and forces me to look into her eyes. Her gaze stuns me.
"You will be alone your whole life if you stay living only in your books and don't stick your nose out of there. Shut up and let me show you a world that you don't even suspect exists," her words sound like a challenge.
I want to snap back, but I realize she is right. This realization strikes me.
I always thought that my world was enough – silence, books, a cozy, secluded corner where no one demands anything in return. My mind is filled with stories in which heroes live adventures, make decisions, and change destinies. And I am just an observer, hiding from reality.
I often convince myself that it is better this way. Why interfere in this bustling world if I can just read, reflect, and remain safe in my inner world? But now I begin to doubt.
Why am I so afraid? Why do I reject everything that could be real, alive? Is it possible that books have become not just a refuge for me, but a prison from which I cannot escape?
It is my way of avoiding people, their emotions, and the complexities I don't know how to handle. In books, everything is simpler — there is no misunderstanding, no painful feelings, or complex conversations that could knock me off balance.
But her words cut through this world and lead me outside. Her gaze is direct, confident, and there is no judgment in it, only the truth. Maybe it is too sharp, but the truth is always like that.
I realize that I have been hiding behind books for too long. I am avoiding life, fearing what I cannot control.
But perhaps that is the answer — not in control, but in the ability to live while letting it go. To live in the moment, to feel, to perceive — that is what I have been missing.
This moment becomes a turning point. I realize that my life is not limited to the pages of books, that I cannot simply be an observer in my own story. I am the main character, and if I stand to the side, I will simply remain an observer in my own life.
I know she won't leave me in peace if I don't do as she wants. I am dissatisfied, I don't want these clothes, I don't want to be part of her world. I don't want her to change me. I just want to be myself, to remain who I was before her. But all of this is useless.
Her words are already ringing in my ears, and I can do nothing about it. Things can no longer be as they were — and they never will be.
"Well, that's it, enough. Let's not drag this out. You aren't such a coward, are you? You can do it, since you promised. I'm not forcing you to jump off a roof, I'm just inviting you to a party. It's not that hard."
Her words are like bites, not giving me any peace. I close my eyes, trying to find an answer that could at least somehow stop her. But her confidence is like an avalanche, leaving me no chance for anything else.
"Fine. Let's see what you bought!" At my words, a spark of joy flares in her eyes, as if she has just won a small battle.
She quickly unpacks the bags, showing me the new items. It is unexpected. There is a lot of clothing: shirts, sweaters, pants, jackets. Even shoes. I don't dare ask how she guessed my sizes. But it doesn't matter.
I find myself surrounded by the world she has decided to impose upon me. In her world, there is no place for my questions. Asking makes no sense — the conversation would drag on for an eternity, and I am not ready to waste time. Katrin seems to enjoy making me try everything on.
For the party, we choose black jeans, a gray t-shirt, and a leather jacket. When I look at myself in the mirror, I don't recognize myself. Who is this guy looking at me from the mirror? It seems that he is ready to conquer the world.
I look completely different — confident, as if ready to meet everything life has to offer.
I feel something inside me change when I look at myself in the mirror, but at some point, I am distracted by her figure. She is in a dress with an open back, and I cannot tear my eyes away from her sneakers — the same ones she wore at our first meeting. On the right sneaker, there is a beautiful red butterfly.
Her reflection in the mirror is the complete opposite of mine. She is elegant and confident, as if the whole world is in her hands.
She looks like the embodiment of everything I have never sought. But next to her, I feel that I can be someone else — more confident than I was before her.
I look at Katrin once more and realize how amazingly she suits me. We both look into the mirror.
My reflection is tense, filled with dissatisfaction and exhaustion. I still don't want to be here, I don't want to be near her. But it's not so bad. My reflection tells me that I could be different if I want to. And, perhaps, if it weren't for Katrin, I would never have seen this.
In that moment, I know for sure: something has changed inside me, and this is only the beginning.
Turning to Katrin, I feel something stir inside. Perhaps if we became a couple, it would be a completely different experience than what I had imagined.
But I don't have time to really think about it, as she is already dragging me toward the exit again. Time is passing, and I feel the anxiety in my chest replaced by curiosity. It is time to go.
We walk to the club on foot. Katrin holds me by the elbow, as if she is afraid I will run away. She needn't worry — I have no intention of running, but her concern makes me a little uneasy. It is all strange and, at the same time, alluring.
We head to the club, and everything inside me is tense. When we enter, I see that the space is divided into three zones: the bar, the dance floor, and the area with tables.
All of this is new, foreign, and at the same time, I feel an invisible force pulling me where I perhaps never would have dared to go.
The room is dim, cut by neon lights that shimmer in all the colors of the rainbow. The ceiling is high, decorated with huge light installations that either ignite in bright flashes or fade away, leaving a barely noticeable light.
The bar counter made of dark wood with backlighting seems to be the central element of the first zone: behind it, bartenders dart around, juggling bottles, mixing drinks, creating a show for the spectators.
The dance floor, flooded with moving spotlights, resembles a boiling cauldron — people move to the beat of the music, and the bass literally shakes the floor.
The stage, where the DJ is the center of attention, seems to come to life thanks to the huge screen with dynamic visuals.
The area with tables is in a secluded corner, slightly partitioned off from the general hustle. Soft sofas of deep shades surround low tables, lit by small lamps with dimmed light. It is quieter here, but the general mood of the night is still felt — laughter, conversations, the clinking of glasses.
Katrin, winking at me, confidently pulls me toward one of the tables. My head is spinning, and inside my body, something has already begun to ignite.
All I know is — the fun is just beginning.