Chapter 27 — Between Days
Morning arrived without anything special about it.
The clock on the wall showed a little past eight when Arga finally woke up. Not because of an alarm, but because sunlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, too bright to ignore.
He sat on the edge of the bed for a while.
Didn't stand up right away.
Didn't reach for his phone.
He just sat there.
His head still felt heavy, like there was something left from last night's call that hadn't really ended, even though the conversation itself was long over.
Arga let out a quiet breath and stood up.
The apartment was silent. Too silent for a morning. He walked to the balcony, slid the glass door open, and the outside air greeted him. The city was already awake. Car horns echoed faintly from below. People were moving, rushing toward places they had to be.
He leaned against the railing.
Just a moment, he told himself.
Just a moment before the day truly began.
He finally picked up his phone. No new messages.
No missed calls.
Her name was still there in the chat list.
Silent.
Arga locked the screen again.
He showered quickly, got dressed neatly. Work shirt. Watch. His work bag, filled with things that never really changed.
Before leaving, he paused in front of the mirror.
He looked normal.
Not like someone whose relationship was slowly cracking apart.
"Work," he muttered.
Not to motivate himself, more like a reminder.
The elevator descended slowly. Arga stood alone inside it. Numbers changed quietly. He stared at his reflection on the mirrored wall, then looked away.
Outside, the morning felt more real. The heat was already rising. People walked fast, as if everyone knew exactly where they were going.
Arga joined the flow.
At the office, the day passed like usual. Too usual, even. He sat at his desk, opened his laptop, stared at the empty screen for a few seconds before finally starting.
Focus came and went.
Every now and then, he checked his phone. Not because there was a notification, but out of habit. A reflex he hadn't lost yet.
There was nothing.
Near lunchtime, Arga stepped out to buy food. He ate alone, barely noticing the taste. At a nearby table, a pair of coworkers laughed softly, talking about something light.
He didn't smile along.
But he didn't feel jealous either.
He just felt… distant.
Afternoon arrived without announcement. Work ended. Laptop closed. Arga went home with the same tired crowd.
At the apartment, the sky had begun to darken. He turned on the lights, dropped his bag, and sat on the sofa without turning anything else on. The TV stayed off. No music played.
Quiet again.
His phone lay on the table. Arga stared at it for a long time.
Then he picked it up.
He typed one sentence.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
In the end, he only sent:
"I'm home."
Message delivered.
No reply.
Arga placed the phone back down carefully, as if it might break.
He leaned into the sofa and closed his eyes for a moment.
Today wasn't bad.
But it didn't feel complete either.
And somehow, days like this were starting to feel more common than he wanted to admit.