Scene Cut
As Alia's eyes open, a soft light stings her vision.
She slowly sits up in bed—the blanket slips slightly from her body, but she doesn't notice.
Victor is gone.
The stillness in the room suddenly feels a little too heavy.
A sharp wave of pain hits her head—
She presses her hand to her forehead and lowers herself back down, eyes closed, taking a deep breath.
Slowly, the pain begins to fade, like a storm passing and a soft breeze returning in its place.
Alia murmurs to herself:
"Mmm... what happened to me?"
There's a mix of confusion, exhaustion, and an odd emptiness in her voice.
Her gaze drifts to the window—
Morning light hasn't fully filled the room yet, but time seems to be melting through the mist outside.
Where did Victor go?
Why did he leave without saying anything?
She stands up, wrapping the blanket tightly around her.
On the floor, Victor's shirt—
Still creased, still holding scent... still holding something from the past.
She's staring at the window when suddenl
A faint sound at the door.
She slowly turns her head—Victor is back.
He's holding two cups of coffee.
Hair messy, still in the pajamas from last night. Sleep still lingering in his eyes, and a soft smile on his lips.
Alia only looks at him once.
Then, without a word, closes her eyes and turns her face away, laying back on the bed.
Victor stops in his tracks.
Victor: "Alia... what's wrong?"
Alia (without opening her eyes, in a cool voice):
"Look down."
Victor glances down—
Oh no...!
His pajamas clearly reveal his "morning problem."
He quickly spins around, nearly spilling the coffee.
Victor (stammering with embarrassment):
"Ugh! No, no... sorry! I didn't... I mean..."
Alia (smiling slightly, eyes still closed):
"I just meant... the cups are hot. Don't spill them."
Victor freezes.
Then both of them burst into laughter—
A quiet, shared laugh. A small wave of comfort between them.
Victor (smirking gently):
"So... you still don't think I'm sexy after all these years?"
Alia (opening one eye with a teasing tone):
"Have you no shame? It's been 34 years—still with this?"
Victor (raising his eyebrows):
"And you're 30, and we've just had a fight—that's exactly why I'm being brave."
Alia (rolling her eyes, laughing):
"You're right... there's a strange joy in fighting too."
Alia (softly, a little nostalgic):
"Remember when I was 19 in Russia, and you were 23? I'd just gotten into that old university... the one called Seven Sisters."
Victor (laughing):
"Seven Sisters—we both could never forget it."
Alia (remembering):
"I was at the library that day, wearing a black shirt and skirt... and you were in a black shirt and pants.
I was trying to reach for books but couldn't... and you helped me."
Victor (with a shy laugh, looking down):
"You always said I was tall... I still remember that."
Alia (smiling):
"Yeah, your height felt like such a big thing back then.
And your help... became such a sweet memory of that day."
Victor (smirking):
I was guarding you even back then."
Alia (keeping her smile, a hint of shyness):
"And do you remember... in that hidden corner of the library?
When I sat on your lap, and we were supposed to be reading?
Something happened that made me blush so hard."
Victor (soft laugh, eyes gentle):
"I smiled on purpose... your embarrassment was the sweetest thing to me."
Alia (biting her lip, eyes meeting his):
"And when you pressed up under me like that...
I completely melted."
Victor (a little shy, half hiding his face):
"Yeah... that memory is one of my favorites too."
Alia keeps laughing—
A laughter that washes away some hidden tiredness and leftover resentment.
Suddenly, she grins and says:
Alia (teasingly, with a mischievous glint in her eye):
"Looks like you've completely forgotten your pants these days!"
Victor freezes.
He glances down at himself, eyes wide—
Then quickly sets the coffee cups down on the side table and awkwardly tries to adjust his pajama pants.
Victor (embarrassed, stammering):
"Hey! That's not my fault—you know what mornings are like..."
Alia bursts into even louder laughter, rolling onto the bed and hiding her face under the blanket.
Victor just stands there for a second, flustered, eyes down like a schoolboy caught red-handed.
Victor (softly):
"It's the way you looked at me… that one glance messed me up."
Alia (from under the blanket, still laughing):
"Oh really? One look from me, and you turned into a pantsless lover?"
Victor chuckles—
That shy but warm laugh of his.
Victor:
"Yeah… maybe if you hadn't looked at me like that, I'd still be normal."
Alia peeks out from the blanket, eyes sparkling.
Alia:
"In that case, I'll stop looking at you completely.
Starting now—strict no-eye-contact policy!"
Victor (pretending to be heartbroken):
"Oh no... You've just ruined my entire day!"
Alia finally calms her laughter a bit and sits up, still grinning.
She eyes Victor from head to toe—then her expression shifts into mock seriousness.
Alia (tilting her head, pretending to be puzzled):
"Wait a minute… why is your hair so long now?
Like… a girl's?! Haaaaaa
Victor raises his eyebrows in mock shock, lifting a lock of his messy hair dramatically.
Victor (gasps, hand to chest):
"Excuse me?! This is artistic length. It's fashion!"
Alia (bursting into laughter):
"No, it's giving Rapunzel in retirement vibes."
Victor walks over slowly, pretending to be wounded.
Victor (playfully dramatic):
"You wound me. I grow this hair for you.
And now you betray me like this?"
Alia (smirking):
"You grew it for me? Babe, I wanted Thor, not Tarzan's cousin."
They both laugh again—
That familiar, comfortable laughter of two people who've argued, fought, and still fallen back into love every time.
Alia slowly quiets her laughter, her smile softening.
There's still a sparkle in her eyes, but now there's a hint of something deeper.
Alia (gently, still half-teasing but sincere):
"But jokes aside…
You do know I love all of it, right?
The wild hair, the drama—every messy bit of you."
Victor pauses for a beat, then smiles—
that kind of smile that reaches all the way to his eyes.
Victor (softly):
"When you say things like that…
it makes every fight, every misunderstandin
all of it feel worth it."
Alia looks at him, this time with no teasing in her eyes. Just truth.
Alia:
"We're not perfect, Victor.
But with you, even the mess feels beautiful."
Victor steps closer and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead.
Victor (quietly):
"As long as you're here…
short hair, long hair, whatever—everything's gonna be okay."