Drowning Accident

The next day, Delia woke up in the apartment, and the first thing she felt was silence. Jo was still sleeping next to her, his breathing even and calm, and the light rays of sunlight, breaking through the curtains, softly touched his face. Delia was in no hurry to get up, remaining in the shadow of her thoughts. She lay looking at him, and her heart was squeezed with vague anxiety. This moment was so warm and cozy, but what would happen next?

Her gaze slid around the room, and she couldn't help but compare it to the days when she woke up in the dorm. Everything was different here - quiet, cozy, and Jo nearby, but still, a picture was beginning to form in her head in which she didn't see her place in this house.

Delia thought about her future, and clouds of doubt began to gather in her mind. How long could she stay here, in the apartment with Jo? He was kind and caring, and perhaps in love with her, but what would happen when she finally lost her place in the orchestra? What could she offer him if her life was empty, if she didn't work, if she found herself dependent on his help and support? Would he want to live with a girl who couldn't provide for herself? Would he want to be with her if at some point her dreams and ambitions ended? Thoughts began to float through her mind that maybe Jo would just wait for her to "get on her feet," but what if that didn't happen?

Delia clutched the blanket, trying to shake off these thoughts. She looked at Jo, who was still lying peacefully asleep, and, so as not to wake him, she quietly got out of bed and went to the bathroom. She washed her face, looked at her reflection in the mirror, trying to collect her thoughts. What should she do? She felt that she needed a break, to stop thinking about Jo, about the orchestra, about all the questions that were bothering her.

She felt a slight determination in her soul - she needed to be outside, away from all this. Taking some food from the refrigerator so as not to return too early, she sighed, got dressed and quietly left the apartment without looking back.

As she walked down the stairs, Delia felt her shoulders begin to relax. She felt like a stranger in this house, despite Jo, despite the warmth he gave her. But she needed to find herself, even if only for a few hours-to just be herself, not the girl who hid her doubts and fears.

As she stepped outside, the fresh air blew over her, and her gaze automatically fell on the sandbox where she had helped Mollie build a sand castle a few days earlier. The memory of that moment, so simple and warm, filled her heart with some kind of nostalgia again. Then, in the midst of all the doubts and insecurities, she felt for a moment like a part of something simple and joyful.

Now, standing at the entrance to the yard, she noticed that the sandbox was empty. The entire yard was silent and still, as if it had not yet awakened. There were no children or parents on the playground, only the empty space where Mollie's laughter had echoed a short time ago. The sand, untouched, was warm in the morning sun, and the castle figures she and Mollie had been building were distorted ever so slightly by the light breeze that blew through the trees.

Delia stopped, sat down on the edge of the sandbox and lightly ran her hand along the sand, leaving traces behind her. That lightness that was with Mollie, when she did not think about anything complicated, awoke in her soul again. Everything seemed so natural, simple, and at that moment Delia felt how the heaviness inside her was releasing a little. But, as always, her thoughts did not give her peace.

She looked at the empty playground, almost feeling the presence of the children who were supposed to come here. And then, as if in response to her thoughts, a woman with a small child appeared from around the corner of the house, and the girl peered at their figures. The sandbox would soon be filled, and life would return to its usual rhythm.

Delia slowly walked out of the yard and headed towards the street. Her steps were measured, she tried to push away intrusive thoughts, focusing her attention on the little things around her. The sun's rays were just beginning to stretch along the asphalt, and the air was fresh, with a slight coolness in it. She felt a little freer, but everything changed the moment she turned the corner and saw Jerome, who was standing at the crossing, leaning on the fence.

He noticed Delia immediately and, grinning, walked towards her with a confident step. She stopped, instinctively feeling how everything inside her tensed up.

"There you are," he said, as he came very close, and there was a note of malice in his voice. "You think you're out of the game now, huh? Dumping me for that weakling Jo?"

His words were so harsh that Delia froze for a moment. She saw his insolent grin and something inside her skipped a beat. An unpleasant lump rose in her chest and thoughts raced through her head. He could have said anything, but this moment was important because she had to choose how to respond.

"I didn't 'dump' anyone, Jerome," she said quietly but firmly, and tried to hold his gaze. "I don't belong to you, and I don't need your permission to be with anyone."

Jerome was silent for a few seconds, but his mocking look did not disappear.

"Really? What will you say to Jo when he finds out that you are not at all what he thinks?" he added mockingly.

Before she could respond, he suddenly stepped forward and held out his arms as if to embrace her. Delia instinctively flinched, her heart beating faster, and in that moment the thought of her hatred for Jerome literally exploded in her head.

Her hands clenched into fists of their own accord, and she took a step back, feeling her skin break out in a cold sweat. There was no ease, none of Jerome's usual mocking confidence in this movement - there was something sinister, something threatening. And in that moment it was clear to her: if she didn't stop him now, he wouldn't stop at all.