(1430 words)

Friday, April 25th, 2025

The first weeks of April had been unpredictable that year. Rain in the morning. Sunshine in the afternoon. Then snow without warning.

Alicia looked at the boy sitting across from her at the small kitchen table.

For six months, she had been helping him with his French.

For six months, he had struggled with the same mistakes.

And somehow, he still couldn't remember some of the most basic expressions.

"Je suis treize ans," he said carefully.

Alicia closed her eyes for a second.

"J'ai treize ans," she corrected gently.

The boy nodded. He tried again.

"J'ai treize ans."

"That's right," Alicia said.

A small smile appeared on his face. Ian wasn't lazy. He wanted to learn. She could see it in his eyes. But something always seemed to block him. The rules seemed to disappear from his mind whenever he needed them.

Or maybe the problem was her. Lately, she had been thinking about that more often.

Maybe I'm not as good as I thought I was.

She had changed his schedule.

She had offered weekend classes.

Once, she had even taken him to a café to make learning more relaxed. His mother had come with them and watched the lesson the entire time.

Nothing had helped. The clock on the wall seemed unusually loud.

When the lesson finally ended, Alicia praised Ian for getting the sentence right and helped him pack his schoolbag.

In the hallway, his mother was waiting with her arms crossed.

"How was Ian today?" she asked.

"Better," Alicia replied automatically.

The woman studied her face for a few seconds.

As if she were looking for something hidden behind Alicia's eyes.

"We pay you a lot of money," she said quietly.

Heat rushed into Alicia's cheeks.

"I know."

Before the conversation could become more uncomfortable, Alicia said goodbye and left.

Another lesson.

Another house.

Another polite smile.

She walked down the street toward her car. Teaching had always been her dream. Even as a child, she had imagined herself standing in front of a classroom, writing on a board and helping others understand things that seemed difficult.

That part of her life had worked out.

The other part...

Not so much.

As she drove to her next lesson, a memory appeared unexpectedly.

The night she met Mark.

He had been tall, with dark hair and an easy smile that attracted attention. His eyes were bright and confident, and when he spoke, people listened.

The old community hall smelled of cheap perfume and warm beer. Alicia had been standing near a wall, holding a glass of juice and watching people dance.

Then Mark appeared.

He didn't simply enter a room.

He took control of it.

He noticed her immediately.

"Why are you hiding over here?" he asked with a smile.

"I'm not hiding," she replied.

But he stayed. He talked. He joked. And by the end of the evening, Alicia was dancing. Laughing. Feeling special. Chosen. That was the word.

Chosen.

A month later, she met his parents. They loved her immediately. Everything seemed easy. And Mark?

Mark was wonderful. He brought flowers. He remembered birthdays. He remembered every story she told him and every detail about her. But he also asked questions. Lots of questions.

"Where are you going?"

"Who are you meeting?"

"Why didn't you answer your phone?"

Back then, she thought it was love. Or concern. Or fear of losing her. Twenty years later, she knew better.

Now there were grey strands in his hair. His face looked more tired. He no longer moved with the same confidence. But some things had never changed.

The questions.

The control.

The need to know everything.

After finishing her final tutoring session of the day, Alicia stopped at her favourite café. The warm smell of coffee wrapped around her like a blanket. Mrs Julia smiled from behind the counter.

The café was small and cosy. Soft lighting filled the room. Fresh coffee scented the air, and the gentle sound of cups and plates created a peaceful atmosphere.

It was one of the few places where Alicia felt calm.

"The usual?" Julia asked.

"Yes, please."

A latte and a small piece of cake. Her safe place. Nobody shouted here. Nobody checked her phone. Nobody asked where she had been.

She sat near the window and watched people passing outside. A couple walked hand in hand. Two teenagers laughed loudly together. An elderly man sat alone reading a newspaper. Normal lives. Simple lives.

Her phone suddenly rang.

Mark.

She stared at his name on the screen.

For a moment, she considered ignoring the call.

Then she answered.

"Where are you?"

His voice sounded calm. Too calm.

"At the café."

"You finished work at five."

"Yes."

"It's almost six."

"I stopped for a coffee."

Silence.

"I drove past the school," he said slowly. "You weren't there."

Alicia's hand began to shake.

"I told you. I had private lessons."

"Who was it with?"

She closed her eyes.

"You know who."

Another silence.

"Come home," he said.

The calmness was gone.

"Now."

The line went dead. For several seconds, Alicia continued holding the phone. The screen slowly went dark in her hand. Part of her wanted to leave immediately. Mark hated waiting. He always noticed the time.

But she remained where she was. Outside, life went on as usual. She placed the phone on the wooden table and looked down at her coffee. The foam had almost disappeared. Half of the cake still sat on the plate.

Five more minutes, she thought.

Inside the café, the smell of coffee and sugar filled the air. Cups touched saucers softly. Somewhere behind the counter, a spoon fell with a metallic clink. Normal sounds. Safe sounds.

Outside, people continued walking along the street. A man with a brown dog stopped near a traffic light. Two girls with backpacks laughed at something on a phone screen.

Alicia picked up her fork and slowly cut another piece of cake. Sweet. Soft. Comforting. She closed her eyes while chewing.

At home, there was always tension. Even when nobody was speaking. Here, she could breathe.

"Alicia?"

She opened her eyes. Julia stood beside the table, holding a small towel. She was nearly sixty and always wore colourful scarves around her neck. Today's scarf was yellow.

"You look tired today," Julia said kindly.

Alicia tried to smile.

"Do I?"

"A little."

Julia tilted her head.

"Hard day?"

Alicia hesitated. She didn't want to talk about Mark. She almost never talked about him. But Julia had always been kind.

"My husband wants me to come home," Alicia admitted. "But I'd rather stay here a little longer."

Julia nodded slowly. As if she understood perfectly.

"Sometimes five minutes of peace are very important," she said.

Alicia laughed softly.

"Exactly."

Julia glanced toward the window.

"You know," she said, lowering her voice slightly, "people think cafés are just places to drink coffee."

Alicia listened.

"But really, they're places where people come to hide for a while."

Something tightened in Alicia's chest.

"Maybe you're right."

Julia smiled.

"Well, finish your cake slowly. I won't tell anyone you stayed longer."

"Thank you."

Julia returned to the counter. Alicia watched her speak with another customer. A young couple entered the café and stopped near the door to read the menu.

Outside, a baby started crying in a stroller. Life continued normally. Alicia took another sip of coffee. It had grown colder, but it still tasted good.

She tried to imagine returning home. Mark would probably be sitting in the living room with the television on. He would ask questions. Simple questions that somehow always sounded like accusations.

Why were you late?

Who were you with?

Why didn't you answer immediately?

Over the years, Alicia had learned to answer calmly. To keep her voice low. To avoid another argument.

Sometimes she wondered exactly when things had changed. When they first met, Mark had been charming, attentive and protective. Now, that same attention felt like a cage. Alicia sighed and ate the last piece of cake.

Across the street, a car pulled over. The driver remained inside, looking down at something in his hands. Her phone suddenly vibrated on the table. Alicia jumped slightly.

For a moment, she expected Mark again. But when she picked up the phone, the screen showed a message from an unknown number.

She frowned.

I saw you today.

Her stomach tightened. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe someone had the wrong number. She stared at the message for several seconds.

Suddenly, the café seemed quieter than before. Another vibration. A second message appeared.

You look beautiful sitting by the window.

Alicia's heart started beating faster. Slowly, almost without thinking, she looked up. Across the street, the same car was still parked there.

The driver's window was dark. Her phone vibrated again. A third message appeared.

Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me.

Alicia's fingers went cold. She quickly typed a reply.

Who are you?

The reply came almost instantly.

Someone who notices things.

Alicia looked at the car again. The engine started. A moment later, the vehicle pulled away and disappeared down the street. Her phone vibrated one last time.

We'll talk again soon.