The next week drags on, the days blending together: university, the dorm, routine. Sometimes I notice Katrin — she flashes against the backdrop of grey days, but as soon as I want to approach, she disappears into a group of her classmates, laughing, talking, not noticing me. They are always discussing something, and I am just an outsider observer. Everything seems so easy and fun for her, and every laugh of hers fills the room with bright light, but not for me. For me, it feels like a sharp stab to the heart.

  Friday comes. I don’t know what to expect. On Monday, she’ll be in my way again. Terror — that’s how I call her sudden appearances. What is she trying to achieve? Does she think she can control me? Make me smoke, torture someone? If so, she is gravely mistaken. I won’t play her strange games, won’t just give in. I’m not going to follow her like a dog, and won't obey her weird demands.

  But despite all of this, something inside me tells me that she isn’t just showing up in my life for no reason.

  When the classes end, I am already anticipating the return to the familiar silence. But the day goes differently. I’m not expecting her, not thinking she will approach. But there she is, standing in front of me — like a storm finding me in the calmest of places.

  "I’m thinking, let’s move everything up by two days. Today I’ll come to your dorm, and in the evening we’ll go to a party."

  She just states it as a fact, as always. No hint of a conversation or attempt to see how I feel about it. It’s all decided, and it’s as if I have no right to choose.

  "A party? We didn’t agree on that," I try to gather my words, trying to regain some control over the situation. But her indifference and the ease with which she says it make me utterly helpless. She doesn’t see the need to explain, just moves on as if her desires are the only reality that matters.

  I stand there, feeling my irritation build up inside. Her way of dictating the terms without regard for my feelings strikes me deeply.

  "I talked about fun, and I have fun there, and you know it yourself. If you’ve forgotten, you owe me. I’m not making you do anything bad, just go and dance with me. What’s the big deal?" Her words sound as if this is so obvious that it doesn’t even need to be discussed.

  I feel how her voice pulls me in, forcing me to give in even though I don’t want to. But inside, a storm is raging — I’m not going to compromise with myself, not going to submit to her will.

  I don’t have time to respond — she is already gone. All that is left are her words echoing in my mind. As always, she leaves me no room for contemplation. I stand in the corridor, feeling as if I am in a position where I can’t change anything. What does she want? Why is everything always on her terms? There are no answers — just emptiness and confusion.

  Back in the dorm, I find Katrin. She is sitting on my bed, surrounded by bags, talking to Dima. The scene is like a dream, where I’m not the main character.

  Except this time, Dima is on his own bed, and she is on mine. I immediately feel uncomfortable. She has claimed the space that used to belong to me, as if she is the owner of this world, and I stand aside, an observer. Her laugh shatters the silence — loud, bright, like a flash of lightning. Everything around seems like a celebration, where she is the main star. And I… I am becoming just part of the background.

  It seems like wherever she appears, there is joy and laughter, always in the center, the main star of the show, laughing louder than anyone. I suddenly wonder: does she ever get serious? If she ever has children, will she also act like a carefree child, endlessly playing and laughing without getting tired?

  I watch her, feeling irritated. I don’t want to be around, don’t want to belong to her world. She is irresistibly beautiful: the black dress accentuates her figure, the reddish-brown hair gently falls on her shoulders. She looks like the embodiment of everything I consider shallow and insignificant.

  And suddenly I realize: I don't want to be a part of this. In her world, there’s no place for someone like me. It’s all just empty fun and bright stars, shining against the backdrop of other people's lives.

  But what is she trying to achieve? Why does she make me feel like I don’t belong? Where does this unwavering belief come from, that she has the right to tell me what to do? Why does she always act this way? Why do I have to reluctantly accept her terms, even when I don’t want to?

  The girl looks at me – that same look I know and hate. Confident, cheeky, as if I should have surrendered. Katrin, as always, winks at me and says:

  "Finally, you show up! I thought you’d already gone to the party without me."

  "I wouldn’t move a step without you, as long as you’re here and here," the words sound like a joke, I try to be lighthearted, but inside me is a strange mix of irritation and confusion.

  "Alright, guys, I have to go, you have fun without me," says Dima, getting ready to leave.

  "What’s there to have fun about when he doesn’t even know what that word means?" the girl scoffs at her ex.

  "I don’t know?" I can’t hold back, and my voice carries more irritation than it should. "It’s just that my understanding of that word differs from yours."

  Dima leaves, but our argument continues. The girl, not noticing my irritation, seems unaware of how deeply she is annoying me, how her confidence and almost dictatorial approach to every step I take makes me feel invisible and helpless. In her eyes, there is only one thing — she knows that I will be with her, no matter what she says.

  "Don’t ruin my evening, let’s get ready," says Katrin with a slight annoyance. "I bought you a few things, so at least thank me!"

  "As if I asked for it!" I can’t understand why she is so insistently trying to change my life.

  I am about to leave, but she stands up, grabs my chin, and forces me to look into her eyes. Her gaze stuns me.

  "You’ll be alone your whole life if you keep living only in your books and never stick your nose out of there. Shut up and let me show you a world you don’t even suspect," her words sound like a challenge.

  I want to snap back, but I realize she is right. This realization strikes me. I always think my world is enough — silence, books, a cozy secluded corner where no one demands anything in return. My mind is filled with stories in which the heroes live adventures, make decisions, and change destinies. And I am just an observer, hiding from reality.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  I often convince myself that it is better this way. Why interfere in this hectic world when I can just read, reflect, and stay safe in my inner world? But now I start to doubt. Why am I so afraid? Why do I reject everything that could be real, alive? Could books have become not just a refuge, but a prison from which I can’t escape?

  It is my way of avoiding people, their emotions, and complexities I don’t know how to handle. In books, everything is simpler — there is no misunderstanding, painful feelings, or complex conversations that could throw me off balance.

  But her words cut through this world and bring me out into the open. Her gaze is direct, confident, and there is no judgment in it, only the truth. Maybe it is too harsh, but the truth always is.

  I realize I have been hiding behind books for too long. I am avoiding life, afraid of what I can’t control. But maybe the answer isn’t in control, but in the ability to live, letting go of it. Living in the moment, feeling, perceiving — that’s what I have missed.

  That moment becomes a turning point. I realize that my life isn’t confined to the pages of books, that I can’t just be an observer in my own story. I am the main character, and if I stay on the sidelines, I’ll just remain an observer in my own life.

  I know she won’t leave me alone if I don’t do what she wants. I am dissatisfied, don’t want this clothing, don’t want to be part of her world. I don’t want her to change me. I just want to be myself, to remain the way I was before her. But it is all useless, her words are already echoing in my ears, and I can’t do anything about it.

  Things can no longer be as they were, and they never will be again.

  "Alright, enough. Let’s not drag this out. You’re not such a coward, are you? You can do it, since you promised. I’m not making you jump off a roof, I’m just inviting you to a party. It’s not that hard."

  Her words are like bites, never letting me be. I close my eyes, trying to find an answer that could stop her. But her confidence is like an avalanche, giving me no chance to think of anything else.

  "Fine. Let’s see what you bought!" With my words, a spark of joy flickers in her eyes, as if she’s just won a small battle.

  She quickly unpacks the bags, showing me the new things. It is unexpected. There is so much clothing: shirts, sweaters, pants, jackets. Even shoes. I don’t dare ask how she has guessed my sizes. But it doesn’t matter. I find myself surrounded by the world she decides to impose on me. In her world, there is no place for my questions. Asking doesn’t make sense — the conversation would drag on forever, and I’m not ready to waste time. Katrin seems to enjoy making me try everything on.

  For the party, we choose black jeans, a gray t-shirt, and a leather jacket. When I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t recognize myself. Who is this guy staring back at me from the mirror? It seems like he is ready to conquer the world.

  I look completely different — confident, as if I am ready to face whatever life throws at me. I feel something change inside me as I look at myself in the mirror, but at some point, I am distracted by her figure. She is wearing a dress with a back cutout, and I can’t take my eyes off her sneakers — the same ones she wore on our first meeting. On the right sneaker, there is a beautiful red butterfly. Her reflection in the mirror is the complete opposite of mine. She looks elegant and confident, as if the world is in her hands. She looks like the embodiment of everything I’ve never sought. But next to her, I feel like I can be someone else — more confident than I’ve ever been before.

  I look again at Katrin and realize how perfectly she suits me. We are both looking at the mirror. My reflection is tense, filled with dissatisfaction and exhaustion. I still don’t want to be here, don’t want to be near her. But it isn’t so bad. My reflection tells me that I can be different if I want to. And perhaps, if it weren’t for Katrin, I’d never have seen that.

  In that moment, I know for sure: something has changed inside me, and this is just the beginning.

  Turning to Katrin, I feel something stir inside me. Maybe if we become a couple, it will be a completely different experience from what I’ve imagined. But I don’t have much time to think about it, as she quickly pulls me toward the exit. Time is passing, and I feel my anxiety shift to curiosity. It is time to go.

  We walk to the club. Katrin holds me by the elbow, as if she fears I might run away. She needn’t worry — I’m not planning to run, but her concern makes me uneasy. It is all strange, yet enticing at the same time.

  We head to the club, and everything inside me is tense. When we enter, I see it divided into three areas: the bar, the dance floor, and a seating area with tables. Everything feels new, foreign, and at the same time, I feel an invisible force pulling me into a place I might never have dared to go.

  The room is dim, cut by neon lights that shimmer in all the colors of the rainbow. The ceiling is high, decorated with huge light installations that flare up in bright flashes and then dim, leaving a faint glow. The dark wooden bar with backlighting seems to be the centerpiece of the first zone: behind it, bartenders are rushing around, juggling bottles, mixing drinks, putting on a show for the audience.

  The dance floor, bathed in moving beams of spotlights, resembles a boiling cauldron — people move to the rhythm of the music, and the bass literally shakes the floor. The stage, where the DJ is the center of attention, seems to come to life thanks to the huge screen with dynamic visuals.

  The seating area is tucked away in a quiet corner, slightly separated from the general bustle. Soft sofas in deep tones surround low tables, lit by small lamps with dim light. It is quieter here, but the overall vibe of the night — laughter, conversation, clinking glasses — is still felt.

  Katrin, winking at me, confidently leads me to one of the tables. My head is buzzing, and I can already feel something igniting inside me.

  All I know is — the fun is just beginning.