Start new life

The First Day After Strange Night

**At Daphne’s House – Early Morning**

The gray Vancouver light poured through the kitchen window onto the wooden table. Daphne stood in front of the window with a cup of cold coffee. She was still wearing the loose T-shirt she’d worn last night, but her hair was loose; black strands had fallen over her shoulders.

Last night… what was last night?

He placed his hand on his chest, where Kara’s head had been pressed until morning. He could still feel the warmth of Kara’s body, like the trace of a blanket. He took a deep breath.

“I really did it.”

A thousand questions fluttered like restless butterflies in his mind:

• Did Kara really calm down, or was she just pretending?

• Why was this feeling of care, this warmth, so… sweet?

• If we keep going, where are we going? Where are the boundaries?

• Who am I in this story? Mother? Friend? Something more?

• Why does my heart beat so fast when I think about her?

She sipped her coffee, it was bitter. She walked over to the couch; the white blanket was still there, wrinkled from Kara's place. She ran her finger over the fabric. Kara's scent was still there—a little sweet, a little floral.

"God, I love that smell."

She sat down, crossed her legs. She remembered how Kara had fallen asleep in her arms, her breaths small and regular, as if she had been waiting for this moment for years. Daphne smiled, but her smile trembled.

"Am I ready?"

**At Kara's house - that morning**

Kara lay on her bed, her eyes open, but not staring at the ceiling; she was looking at something far away. For the first time in years, she had slept through the night without a nightmare. Her body was still heavy from deep sleep, but her heart was light.

She put her hand on her chest. She could still feel Daphne’s hand in her hair, still hear the voice of “my little one” whispering in her ear.

“This was real.”

She got up, went to the mirror. Her face was red, her eyes were sparkling. She smiled—a smile she had lost for years.

“I want to go again. I want it to be like this every night.”

She picked up her phone. Her finger lingered on the name “Daphne.” She typed:

*“Good morning… last night was the best night of my life. Can I come today? Let’s just talk… or… whatever you want.”*

She didn’t send the message. She deleted it. She typed again:

*“Thanks for holding me.”*

This time she sent it.

**Back to Daphne**

The phone vibrated. Kara’s message. Daphne read it, her breath caught. Her smile grew wider, but so did tears—tears of joy, tears of fear, tears of the unknown.

“Yes, come. Today, tomorrow, whenever you want.”

She typed the message, but didn’t send it. She put the phone down, walked to the window. The Vancouver drizzle had begun.

“I’m not ready… but