(1046 words)
Chapter 10
Alicia did not throw the postcard away.
She kept it.
Now, sitting at the kitchen table, she took it out once again and slowly read the same words, as if they might somehow change.
You left me there.
She tightened her fingers around the edge of the card, but her face remained calm. Her breathing was slow and steady, and there was no fear in her expression.
She placed the postcard on the table.
This changes everything, she thought.
From the living room, the television was playing loudly. Mark was there, just as he always was. The sound filled the apartment without stopping, becoming part of the background of everyday life.
Michael walked into the kitchen looking for dinner. He opened the refrigerator, stared inside for a moment, and then closed it again.
"There's nothing here," he said.
Alicia did not look at him.
"You didn't cook anything?" he asked.
"No."
"You always do."
Michael frowned.
"Not today."
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
Michael watched her more carefully.
"So what? We're just supposed to go hungry?"
Alicia slowly raised her eyes.
"You're eighteen years old. You can figure it out."
Michael blinked.
"What?"
"If you're hungry," she continued in the same steady voice, "make yourself something."
There was no anger in her voice.
That made it even worse.
Michael gave a short laugh.
"Since when?"
Alicia did not answer.
Instead, she picked up the postcard and slowly turned it between her fingers.
Michael noticed.
"What's that?"
"Nothing important."
Her tone ended the conversation before it could continue.
A moment later, Mark walked into the kitchen.
"Where have you been?" he asked.
"At work."
"For how long?"
"A few hours."
Mark looked at the clock.
"It's almost evening."
Alicia said nothing.
He stepped closer.
"You've been going out a lot lately, and you never say where you're going."
Alicia looked at him calmly.
Too calmly.
"I've realized that's how things work in this house," she said.
"Nobody explains anything."
Mark frowned.
"That's different."
Alicia tilted her head slightly.
"Oh, really? It feels exactly the same to me."
Her voice remained soft, but there was something sharp beneath it.
"I'm simply behaving the same way everyone else does."
Silence.
Michael shook his head.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Alicia looked at him for only a second.
"It means I'm doing exactly what you do."
Mark stared at her.
"That's not true."
Alicia smiled quietly.
"Then maybe you just don't like seeing it from the other side."
Her words stayed in the air.
Michael crossed his arms.
"This is weird."
"You're acting differently."
Alicia met his eyes.
"Yes."
Just one word.
Simple.
Mark continued watching her.
"You've changed."
She held his gaze without looking away.
"No."
"I've simply stopped pretending."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Nobody knew what to say.
For a moment, it felt as if something invisible had shifted inside the room.
As if the rules had suddenly changed.
Alicia stood up.
"I have things to do."
It was not an explanation.
It was a boundary.
"Where are you going?" Mark asked.
"To rest."
It was true.
But not completely.
She picked up her bag and walked out of the kitchen.
Nobody spoke behind her.
For the first time, nobody tried to stop her.
Inside the bedroom, Alicia quietly closed the door.
The apartment suddenly felt enormous, as if the sounds from the other rooms could no longer reach her.
She sat on the edge of the bed and opened her bag.
The postcard was still in her hand.
Someone knew.
That much was clear now.
And if someone knew, time was running out.
She placed the postcard on the bed and picked up her phone.
For a second, she simply looked at it.
Then she unlocked the screen.
No new messages.
Nothing.
Of course.
She had blocked the number.
That did not mean anything.
Slowly, she opened her banking app.
Numbers filled the screen.
She studied them carefully.
It was not enough.
Not yet.
Her mind was working quickly, connecting details, changing plans, crossing out phone numbers she would never use again.
This can still work, she thought.
Just in a different way.
She stood up and walked to the wardrobe.
Her hand moved across the clothes without choosing anything.
She was checking.
Remembering.
Thinking.
At the back of the shelf, she found a small envelope filled with documents.
She looked through them briefly.
Then she closed the envelope and carefully placed it back exactly where it had been before.
No rush.
No panic.
Only control.
From the living room, Michael's voice suddenly grew louder.
He sounded annoyed.
Mark answered in a lower voice, but his words were sharp.
Normal sounds.
A normal evening.
A normal family.
Alicia sat down again and picked up the postcard.
This time she did not look at the words.
She looked beyond them.
You should never have come back, she thought.
Her fingers slowly moved across the surface of the card.
Then she opened her bag once more.
For a moment, she hesitated.
Then she placed the postcard inside.
Next to something else.
Something that had not been there before.
She closed the bag.
She already knew exactly what she was going to do next.