A Faint Warmth

The next morning, before the sun was high in the sky, Jo gently woke Delia, touching her shoulder lightly. His voice was warm, but with a hint of impatience.

"Delia, wake up," he said, leaning over to wake her. "It's the last day of rehearsals, tomorrow is the premiere. We need to make it, if you want to play, we need to hurry."

Delia lay in bed with her eyes closed, feeling the heaviness in her body and the pains that seemed to pierce her. She didn't want to wake up. She didn't want to get up. The whole night, as if it had pulled her into quicksand of fear and doubt, had left her soul dark. Everything that had seemed so important now lost its meaning. Jo was near, but thoughts like dark clouds prevented her from concentrating.

"Jo, I can't," her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. "I feel sick... I don't know how I can..." She fell silent, unable to express everything she felt. Her body didn't have the strength to stand up, and her head was in chaos.

He noticed that her voice sounded different than usual and slowed down. Jo sat on the edge of the bed and looked at her carefully. His face looked worried and he took her hand in his.

"What's wrong with you? You look... wrong. You need to get up, you need to be at rehearsal. You're ready, you can't miss this premiere, we've been working towards this for so long."

But Delia turned away, feeling fear tighten in her chest. Her eyes were full of longing and pain, and she couldn't explain why she couldn't get up, why she couldn't cope with this. All she wanted was to stay in bed and forget for a little while, not to think about how her life depended so much on this premiere, on how her future in the orchestra would turn out.

"I can't, Jo," she said again, a little more confidently. "I can't go to rehearsal. Not now."

His face immediately darkened with worry, but he still tried to be gentle. He leaned down and stroked her hair.

"Delia, stop being a wimp," he said, trying to cheer her up. "You can't give up like this! You need to get up and go to rehearsal. You're strong, you can do this. Don't be like that."

These words, though spoken with care, did not anger Delia, but rather an unexpected relief. Somehow, strangely and absurdly, these simple phrases awakened her, made her feel that there was room in her life for strength, for courage, that she could still cope.

At one point, unable to contain her laughter, she looked at Jo and said:

"A weakling"? Are you serious? I didn't think you'd call me that," she said with a slight smile, despite the tiredness in her eyes. "Do you even realize who you called that? And if I decide that it's actually a compliment, what will you do?"

Jo, realizing that she was starting to tease, pretended to be deep in thought.

"Well, you know, it's better for you to be a weakling than a withdrawn bore who sits in the corner and complains about life," he said with a smile, leaning on the doorframe.

"Oh, so I have to be a bore, too, huh? You don't mean to say I'm a boring wimp?" Delia replied, giving him a sarcastic look.

"If you continue to lie in bed and whine, I might even say something!" Jo summed up, getting up from his seat and coming over to help her get dressed. "So, you wimp, are you getting ready or should I go to work without you?"

"Okay, wait, wait," Delia said, buttoning her jacket. "You really call me that again, and I'll give you such a circus that you'll never want to wake me up in the morning."

Jo feigned fear and stepped back.

"Oh, what kind of threats are these? I'd better take my words back before it's too late! You're not going to be a wimp, are you, miss Independence?"

"You'd better say I'm great, or I might think you don't appreciate me at all!" Delia replied, still laughing.

"You're looking great as always," Jo said with a wink, "but if you get up again and start pretending you want to stay in bed, I'll be sure to call you a "wimp" one more time to make sure you get up."

Delia shook her head, but couldn't help but smile.

"Okay, okay, you win," she said, finally getting up. "But next time you wake me up, you're going to be the sweetest person in the world. And no more 'wimps,' okay?"

"Agreed," Jo chuckled, happily watching as her mood began to improve.

After a quick tidying up, Delia and Jo found themselves in the kitchen, where breakfast was almost automatic: they were so used to these morning rituals that it seemed as if every gesture had been learned in advance. Jo winked at Delia as he put eggs on his plate, and she silently reached for a cup of coffee, unable to hide her fatigue from the coming day.

"Are you ready for the last rehearsal?" Jo asked, trying to cheer her up a little. He knew she was a little tense, but he wanted to lift her spirits.

"I'm ready, of course." Delia tried to smile, but her gaze remained distant. "Even if I'm not sure what I need right now."

"Hmm, well then," Jo said, rising from his chair and with a slight challenge in his voice. "Let's shake things up a bit before that. We're not too late yet, so..."

Suddenly he took a step towards the door, turned sharply, and said with a playful gleam in his eyes:

"Catch up!"

With these words, as if on cue, he rushed out of the kitchen into the hallway. Delia only had time to grin in surprise, but literally a second later she was already racing after him, as if she were a teenager again. She felt how energy, albeit temporarily, was returning, and suddenly this carefree moment became necessary for her to forget about the tension and fears that had gripped her the day before.

"You can't run away from me!" cried Delia, out of breath and looking back at Jo, who was dodging her with agility, demonstrating his superior physical fitness.

He laughed without turning around and picked up his pace slightly, which made Delia even more determined to catch up with him. She knew she would win - her legs were longer, and she wasn't going to stop.