"Please, don't stay silent. Tell me what's happening to you," I continue pleadingly, feeling the anxiety inside me grow, filling my entire consciousness.
"You can consider it something like depression," she replies quietly, as if speaking something forbidden and frightening, as if the fear of revealing this truth is stronger than the pain itself.
"We've never had anything like this before," I say, not hiding my shock and bewilderment, my heart tightening with helplessness. "I wonder, twenty-two years old—is that too early or already too late to fall into depression?" I try to joke, wanting to lighten her exhausted face with a pale smile, as if this slight humor could chase away the clouds above us. "Mary is wondering when she should start. Do you think she can start at three, or should she wait a bit longer?" I continue, trying to ease the tension, but inside I feel the anxiety tighten even more.
"I'm not laughing," Katrin says quietly, and I realize my attempt has failed, that her soul is too heavy for light words.
"Move over, I'll lie down with you," I ask, carefully shifting Katrin to the middle of the bed, wanting to be closer, to be her support.
"Why?" she asks, not understanding, but without objection she gives me space, and this silent consent touches me to the core.
"We'll treat your depression," I say seriously, trying to put strength and confidence into my words, as if each word could become a remedy for her soul.
"Treat it? For that, you'd have to either erase memories or fix the past," she clearly doesn't believe me, and hopelessness in her voice cuts through my heart, as if all hopes are crashing against the walls of her own pain.
"What happened this morning when you woke up?" I ask, my voice filled with worry and my heart with hope, expecting an honest and open answer, as if trying to break through the thick, cold darkness that seems to surround her from within, hiding her true feelings and thoughts.
Katrin takes a deep breath, as if it is a heavy burden she has been holding inside for a long time. Her voice trembles, filled with both weakness and resolve, but the words come out sincere, so real that it feels like my soul is ringing:
"I ran to the first floor and asked your mom where you were."
I nod, remembering that my mom already told me about this episode, but in my mind there is still emptiness, like missing puzzle pieces I can't put together.
"Mom told me about that. And then what happened?" I ask, honestly not understanding what exactly I am missing in this story, as if a wall stands in my mind that I want to break through.
Her lips tremble, and suddenly a quiet sob escapes her; in her voice slips the pain she has long tried to hide, to bury deep, as if in the darkest corner of her soul.
"I went back to the room and realized everything."
I try to understand what exactly she realizes, feeling my heart tighten from this unspoken, tender, yet piercing moment. My hands gently try to wipe her tears, feeling her pain, her suffering, as if it passes into me, piercing through me. Her hands still hold my shirt—the one she clutches tightly, as if that piece of fabric is her only support in this world, even though I am standing just a meter away, yet feel so far.
"That I don't deserve you," she whispers after a few minutes, barely audible, as if pronouncing a terrible sentence to herself, full of pain and bitterness.
My heart clenches, as if someone squeezes it into a fist, and I can't believe my ears.
"Why? And anyway, have I ever judged you by such principles?" I need to understand, to find the roots of her fear, her despair, because seeing her like this is like seeing the world without color.
She lowers her eyes, as if afraid to meet my gaze, which could either hurt or heal, and begins speaking about the heaviest topic:
"The truth is, and you know it inside yourself, that we shouldn't have crossed paths."
I look at her, trying to find understanding, trying to break the icy barrier slowly forming between us.
"Do you think that if it weren't for the argument, we would never have been together?" I ask honestly, wanting to hear her most intimate thoughts, hopes, and doubts.
Her voice becomes barely audible, full of pain and regret, as if each word is a wound she carefully keeps inside.
"It's not about the argument, it's about what I did by coming into your life. If I hadn't been there, you would have found a good girl and, like normal people, married first and had kids afterward."
These are not just words—it is a whole life filled with old pain, fears, and regrets that she carries like a heavy burden she never manages to let go of.
I take her hands, holding them tightly so she can feel my determination and love, so she knows I am here and not going anywhere.
"My heart chose you, and I have never changed my choice, and I won't in the future. Do you want me to find someone else? Then don't even expect it. Even if we aren't together, I won't be with anyone. My heart doesn't want to see anyone else, no one but you."
I gently hug her, feeling her tremble in my arms, her body tightening with emotions, and quietly continue, whispering in her ear so that these words can become her support:
"I don't care that my mom doesn't like you much, and that you left me for three years. I just want to finally forget that and live with you the perfect life I imagined for us. For my heart, you are the most beautiful."
Her eyes fill with tears, and finally, she opens up, sharing what she has been holding inside like a heavy secret.
"I entered this room and saw an empty bed. For the first time, I realized what it was like for you when I left you. These feelings rush over me, and I understand the pain I caused you."
At that moment, I feel the walls between us begin to collapse, and for the first time in a long while, genuine sincerity appears between us—fragile, but so necessary for us to move forward, no matter what.
I gently cup her face in my hands, softly, as if afraid to break the fragility of the moment, as if holding the most precious and delicate flower, which could easily wither from the slightest breeze. I turn her to face me, gazing into her tearful, glowing eyes, reflecting both pain and hope at the same time. In that instant, my heart clenches with tenderness and love, mixed with a slight thrill, as if an ocean of feelings pours inside me, ready to spill out.
"Do you love me?" I ask Rebel Girl softly, almost in a whisper, trying to catch every note of her soul in her answer, as if afraid to break the delicate bridge already built between us. My breath slows, and hope seems to freeze in my chest.
For a moment, my beloved seems to retreat inward, as if not understanding where I'm leading. Her eyes glisten with confusion and doubt. Her answer is simple, yet carries a hidden pain:
"What does that have to do with anything?"—as if she herself doesn't yet know where this conversation will lead.
"Answer honestly. Do you love me, Katrin?" I insist, with a slight tremor in my voice, longing to hear the truth—the very spark that binds us and gives meaning to everything happening. My voice carries hope and, at the same time, the fear of rejection.
Her eyes meet mine, and in them shines sincerity, a light that dissolves all my doubts:
"Yes, I love you. With all my heart, and I never stopped all these years."
I smile slightly, feeling warmth spread through my body, and continue, as if testing her resolve:
"You wish the best for me and want the most suitable woman to become my wife?"
She nods, her voice quiet but resolute:
"Yes, Maxim. That's what I want for you."
I pause, and in the silence between us, thousands of words resonate. Then, as if challenging her doubts and fears, I say:
"Then there's only one way."
Her eyes narrow, her voice trembles, as if bracing for the worst, as if fear binds her heart:
"What? To part ways?"
"No. Become that yourself. Why not become the one you want for me? I love you, and you love me. Stop looking for reasons to part, and start finding reasons to never part again."
My words sound confident, filled with hope and love, as if I'm giving her a guiding star in the night.
Katrin's eyes widen with every passing second, as if she's absorbing the full depth of what I said. Fear and doubt flicker in her gaze, but gradually, resolve begins to form. When I fall silent, she ponders quietly, and finally says with firm certainty:
"Yes, you're right. Why should I give up on you and give you to someone else? No, you're only mine. And if that means I need to change for the better, I'm ready."
A new flame ignites in her eyes—a flame of strength and determination—and I can't hide the smile of pride, feeling our path becoming brighter.
"This is exactly the Rebel Girl I fell irrevocably in love with three years ago," I whisper, looking at her with such tenderness that the world seems to dissolve, leaving only us—two hearts beating in unison.
She wants to add something, but I interrupt her with a passionate kiss, a promise that requires no words, a promise to always be near, no matter what.
"You're mine, and I'm yours," she quietly repeats our little motto, and I feel our bond strengthen, as if an invisible thread ties our souls tighter with every second.
"Completely agree, my love. But there's one more thing we need to do," I begin, slightly stepping back but holding her gaze, full of warmth and care.
"What?" she asks, surprised, still not understanding what comes next, her voice gentle and trusting.
"My mom said you didn't eat anything today. And that's not suitable for my perfect girl. So get dressed, and I'll wait for you. Okay?" I ask, rising from the bed and watching her reaction. My voice carries care and a slight smile, as if speaking of something both natural and important.
"Yes, I'll be quick," she replies, and I notice her body shiver slightly at my attention, at the warmth I give her without words.
She's wearing only a robe—when I left, she was completely naked. She probably put it on in a hurry. Now she changes into a nightshirt—comfortable pants and a top. I know she won't stay long in this outfit, and in a couple of hours, I'll take it all off and make love to her, savoring every moment, every touch, as if engraving our closeness into memory forever.