Nick’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out slowly — he still hadn’t fully recovered from everything that happened in the last hour.

The screen lit up. A message. From Mari. “How’s the date going?”

Nick stopped walking. Just stood there on the sidewalk. And he smiled — without thinking about it. Not a sarcastic smile. Not a sad one. Just… a real, warm smile.

She texted him. She was thinking about him. She wanted to know. And that alone made something inside his chest feel a little lighter.

“Do you really want to know?” He typed it slowly.

One second. Two. Her reply came almost right away:

“Yes, I’m curious :))”

And those double brackets looked… warm. Like her.

Nick typed again, carefully.

“It was the most unusual date I’ve ever had…”

He paused. Re-read it. Changed “most unusual” to just “unusual.” Changed it back. Read it again. Then finally sent it.

At the same time, Mari was sitting in the library. And her heart hit the inside of her chest a little harder — three times, maybe more.

Most unusual?

That could mean anything. Fireworks. Or a disaster.

She grabbed her phone with both hands. Her fingers hovered above the keyboard.

“Did you like it?”

…delete.

“So? How’s a date with your dream girl?”

…facepalm. Delete.

“Did you have a good time?”

…delete again, with a mental “stoooopp, Mari.”

In the end she just tapped the little “like” on his message. And that was… it.

 Nick sat on a bench near the park. The evening pressed in with a soft kind of darkness. He held his phone in both hands. The screen flickered.

“Mari is typing…”

…then it disappeared. …then came back. …then disappeared again.

A like. Just a like.

“What’s with her..?” he whispered to himself. “She usually writes a lot. And with all her little emojis…”

He paused.

“Maybe she wants me to explain? Maybe she’s waiting for more?”

And then it hit him.

“Oh no. I didn’t say it was a disaster. She probably thinks it went well.”

He started typing.

“The date was a total disaster. Seriously. I’m going home.”

A pause. A small push inside his chest.

Because suddenly, for some reason, he really wanted to see one person. And it definitely wasn’t Nila.

He typed again.

“Where are you? Maybe… we can meet?”

The message turned “read.”

And a moment later:

“I’m at the library. I’m about to leave. Where are you?”

“On the bench in the park near school. You remember the spot?”

“Ok. Wait. I’ll be there in 5.”

Nick read it and… finally exhaled. For the first time all evening. Warm. Quiet.

She was coming. She was actually coming to him. And that felt like the best thing that could happen after a disaster like this.

Exactly five minutes later — she really showed up.

Bag over her shoulder. Hair a little messy from the wind. Cheeks red — not from emotions, but from rushing. Her breathing still fast. But her eyes — worried. 

Mari practically dropped onto the bench next to him.

“What happened?!”

Nick stared straight ahead. Then turned to her. And smiled. Not happily. Not sarcastically. Just… with relief.

“Everything,” he said softly. “Everything happened.”

 He started talking. Not right away. Slowly. Without drama. Without trying to make it sound worse or better than it was.

About the tulips — that somehow became “tacky.” About how he tried to be interesting — and ended up “boring.” About the ten selfies that mattered more than an actual conversation. About the latte. And the waiter. And the look in the waiter’s eyes that basically said, “Run, dude. You still have time.”

“So yeah… not the best date I’ve ever been on,” Nick said, shrugging. “Not that I’ve been on many. Actually… if I’m being honest… this was my first date.”

Silence. Even the wind stopped moving the leaves, as if it wanted to give them space.

Mari smiled — softly. Warmly. Not a joke. Not pity.

“You know… sometimes dates like that are important too.”

Nick lowered his head. His eyes focused on the grass near his shoes.

“I feel like a complete idiot. I wasted half a year of my life… suffering…”

He paused, and something in his voice cracked.

“…for that? For that girl. I’m stupid. So stupid.”

He glanced at Mari — almost scared of what he would see. 

And he saw it.

Her face tightened just a little. A tiny shadow passed through her eyes. But she didn’t say anything. She just leaned toward him and hugged him.

Not tight. Just enough — like it was the only thing in the world that made sense right now. And they stayed like that.

How long did they sit like that?

A minute? Two? Maybe a whole  eternity.

Nick swallowed, taking a slow breath. He was finally ready to speak.

“And you…?”

She turned to him, a little surprised, gentle.

“Me what?”

“Uh… do you… go on dates often?”

Mari blinked, trying to follow his thought.

“You know… you made that plan so well. It’s a shame it just… turned out like that.”

She went quiet for a moment. Her eyes lowered — like she had reached a door she didn’t open very often.

“Dates, huh…” she repeated softly.

No smile. No sarcasm.

The air around them seemed to grow quieter.

Evening had fully settled in. Only the streetlight above the bench gave a soft yellow glow.

Nick tried to escape the awkwardness.

“I just meant… maybe we can make another plan someday. A better one. No disasters this time, I promise. But… not now, of course.”

Mari lifted her eyes to him. Her smile was soft — but fragile.

“You’re kind, you know that?”

Nick shrugged a little.

“I try. I just… don’t always know how to ask things right.”

A small pause.

Leaves rustled. A drop of water fell from a branch somewhere.

Mari stared into the empty space in front of them.

“Sometimes it’s not about asking the right question,” she said quietly. “It’s about being ready to hear the answer.”

Nick didn’t speak. He listened. Fully. Deeply.

Mari took a slow breath. Her eyes were still down.

“You know I moved to this school only this year, right?”

“Well… yeah. You told me.”

“But you don’t know the reason.”

Nick looked at her carefully. His fingers stopped moving. His thoughts froze.

"I think… I just opened Pandora’s box"

Mari stayed silent. For a long moment.

Then she finally spoke.

“Her name was Linda.”

Her tone was flat. Almost too flat — like someone who doesn’t let herself feel anymore because she has already felt too much.

“She was… popular. Like, very. She had more followers than our town’s mayor. She knew how to pose, how to use filters, how to sell herself. She basically lived inside her stories.”

“I trusted her. I thought she was my friend.Spoiler… she only needed me for geography homework.”

Mari’s fingers tightened on her knees. Her voice stayed calm, but her eyes didn’t rise.

“One day I told her I liked Brandon. He was… you know, that boy. The good-looking, confident one. Everyone knew him.”

“Linda smiled. She said, ‘Cool! I know him a bit. I’ll help you.’”

“And I… I believed her.”

Silence.

“Then the show started.”

Her voice shook a little, but she didn’t stop.

“It started as a ‘game.’ Some dumb initiation. Like, ‘prove you’re worth his attention.’ Tasks like in teen movies:

go talk to him first, bring him a chocolate bar, read a poem out loud during class…in front of everyone.”

“I… I did all that. I felt embarrassed, but Linda kept saying, ‘It’s romantic. He’ll love it. He likes brave girls.’

And she also said, ‘I’ll film it, we’ll watch it together later.’”

“She filmed everything. All the time.”

Nick didn’t breathe. He didn’t know how. His chest felt like stone.

“Then the tasks got stranger. More humiliating. But I thought… it was part of the plan. Part of the game.”

“And finally… the ‘moment.’”

“She decorated everything with candles, music, lights. Brandon asked me to meet him in the school hall when it was empty. I was… confused. But happy.”

“And then… he leaned in. Almost a kiss. I felt it — just one more second, one more breath—”

She stopped. Then spoke again, quieter.

“…and he laughed.”

A pause.

Mari closed her eyes. Took a deep breath.

“He said, ‘Did you seriously think I’d be with YOU?’ ‘Really? You?’ ‘This is a prank. Linda and I filmed everything. You’re about to become a MeTube star.’”

Her voice wasn’t flat anymore. It was breaking — but without tears. Dry. Sharp.

“And I did become one. Fast.Painfully.”

“Under every video — thousands of views. And comments.”

‘Ugly.’ ‘Loser.’ ‘Is that makeup or does she really look like that?’

“And Linda… she added a link. To my InstaPic. “And all of that went straight into my DMs.”

The wind moved through the branches. Mari’s voice was quiet.

“I… I couldn’t handle it anymore.”

She paused. Breathed. Slowly. Carefully. Like someone standing up after a fall.

“I deleted everything. All of it. InstaPic, NikNok… even my Doodle account. I wanted to disappear.”

She looked out into the empty space in front of her. Then added, even softer:

“And I even thought about… the bridge.”

Nick flinched. For the first time that evening, he couldn’t control it.

“Mari…”

“Don’t worry,” she said calmly. “I stopped myself. I told my parents. They were there. They helped me. The channel was deleted. They were kicked out. And I was… left with the pieces.”

She went quiet again.

“I couldn’t stay there anymore. Every day was the same. Stares. Whispers.

‘Drama queen.’

‘She ruined everything.’”

“I asked my parents to change my school. And I started from zero. I stayed quiet. Didn’t draw attention. And it worked. No one knew. No one asked.”

She took a breath — and this one felt lighter, because she had finally said it out loud.

“…until that day with the bags.”

Mari stopped. She didn’t ask what he thought. She didn’t look at him. She just waited. Maybe… afraid. 

Nick didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t.

Something inside him cracked — the kind of crack that has nothing to do with pain, and everything to do with dignity. With wanting to protect someone.

His eyes shimmered, and he lowered his head — not wanting her to see. But it was already too late. The first tear fell onto his jeans. Warm. Silent. Like regret.

Mari turned toward him. She saw it.

Her eyes widened — she hadn’t expected THIS.

“Nick…” she whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, voice rough. “I… I didn’t know. Thank you for telling me. For trusting me.”

He wiped his face with his sleeve, but another tear followed.

“It’s… it’s so unfair. They… they shouldn’t have done that. Who gives anyone the right to treat someone like that?!”

Mari looked at him. Really looked.

There was surprise in her eyes. And something warm. Something she hadn’t felt from anyone in a long time.

“You’re strong, Mari. Really strong. I… I never knew.”

He hesitated. Words felt too small.

“And I admire you. I don’t know how it happened. But I want you to know this: I’m with you. Always.”

He kept his eyes down, almost embarrassed by how open he suddenly was. 

And at that moment — she placed her hand on his. Just like that. Quiet. Simple. No big speech. No drama.

And the silence between them was no longer empty. It was connection. The kind that builds not from loud words — but from the kind of silence you don’t need to translate.