The clock struck exactly 9:00 PM when I knew it was time. My parents, as usual, were working late. They wouldn't suspect a thing. Not because they trusted me, but because they had long since stopped trying.
I had awaited this moment with a mixture of anxiety and determination. I was leaving. Leaving without saying a word. I had planned every detail coldly, because there was no room for mistakes. Not this time.
There's no point in explaining everything now. Maybe someday. All I can say is that Alone was behind me. And with it, a broken version of myself.
Aarush was waiting. Not just because of the scholarship in Philology. But for another reason. Something I couldn't name, but that pulled me in that direction as if I had no choice.
I was ready. Oversized blue hoodie, dark jeans, and a backpack that had been packed for weeks. Before leaving, I looked at myself in the mirror. I had learned not to seek beauty in that reflection. Only truth. Short, dark hair. Dark circles makeup couldn't hide. And those mismatched eyes: one green, the other blue. People found them fascinating. To me, they were a mark. One that hurt.
I took a deep breath. Grabbed the old black cat plushie. Not out of tenderness. It was the last thing my father had given me before he stopped seeing me the same way. I stuffed it into the backpack.
There were no goodbyes. Only the door opening. And the silence of the night welcoming me.
I left.
...
Aarush was different. A grey city, but strangely welcoming. I rented an apartment in the suburbs with the scholarship money and a part-time job at a coffee shop. The landlord, a man with tiny eyes and a deep voice, handed me the keys with a warning:
"Don't open the door if you're not expecting anyone. Even if they say your name. Even if they sound familiar."
I didn't ask questions. I had gotten used to warnings without explanations.
The apartment was old, worn-out. But I was alone. And that was enough.
Peeling walls, a rusty kitchenette, a creaky bed. I opened my backpack. Set my things down. Finally, I placed the plushie on the pillow.
It wasn't freedom. It was a truce.
And for now, that was enough.