"Whispers of Eternity"

Elara

Thursday, my designate escape day, found me nestle in the corner of the cafe, immersed in the pages of a romance novel. The aroma of coffee enveloped me, creating a cocoon where the fictional love stories unfolded in tandem with the clinking of cups and distant conversations.

As I delivered into the written narratives of passion and intrigue, my gaze lifted momentarily to observe a group of friends-much like Jake and his companions. Their laughter was resonating, creating a symphony that blended with the ambient melodies playing softly in the background.

I didn't went to play with Jake because he said so. I saw someone familiar in his group who asked me to choose between truth and dare. Someone I'd seen before in a local art exhibition.I don't even know his name.

On that day,

I had trodden the familiar halls of the local art exhibition, seeking a clandestine retreat from the relentless demands of my medical studies. The ambient lighting had painted the gallery with a soft, welcoming glow, turning each canvas into a portal to a realm where emotions speak louder than words.

Art had always been my refuge, a sanctuary where I could escape the sterile world of medicine. The strokes and contours on display resonate with me in a way that textbooks never could. It is a silent language, a dialogue that transcends the boundaries of my daily life. As I meandered through the gallery, the brushstrokes and sculptures became my companions, offering solace from the relentless pursuit of knowledge.

Dressed in an outfit that melded practicality with a touch of sophistication, I moved through the exhibition with a cool and composed demeanor. The people around me formed a distant hum, their voices merging with the ambient sounds of the gallery. Despite the crowd, I found comfort in the silent conversations playing out on the canvases.

Amidst the curated elegance, my gaze inadvertently crossed paths with a stranger. His presence, though unfamiliar, captivated my attention. He moved through the exhibition with an effortless charm, his casual attire seamlessly blending with the artistic tapestry surrounding us. His eyes, like mine, were drawn to the strokes of genius on display, creating a subtle connection in the silent dialogue of the gallery.

My thoughts remained concealed beneath a veneer of calm detachment, observing him with a clinical precision that contrasted with the emotional resonance of the art. His steps became a transient note in the symphony of the gallery, an unexpected harmony that disrupted the solitude I cherished.

In the contemplative silence, he lingered as a mysterious interlude in my exploration of artistic expressions. As I continued to absorb the beauty that surrounded me, both in the masterpieces and in the enigmatic stranger, I realized that the gallery had become more than just a haven-it was a space where the boundaries between science, art, and human connection blurred, creating a canvas of emotions waiting to be unveiled.

Then, that Friday night as I sat in the corner of the cafe, immersed in my romance novel, a subtle distraction drew my attention. There he was, the stranger. A canvas of handsome features that effortlessly caught the eye.

Dressed in a casual yet thoughtfully chosen outfit,His style spoke of an understated elegance. It was the kind of fashion that effortlessly blended comfort with a refined aesthetic, reflecting a person who paid attention to detail without making it seem like a conscious effort.

after playing one round of truth or dare with that stranger's group I left as the manager was looking for me.

As he moved through the cafe, his presence radiated an easygoing charisma. There was a genuine kindness in the way he interacted with others, a quality that went beyond surface charm. In that moment, as a silent observer, I couldn't help but appreciate the beauty of this stranger who, like a well-composed artwork, left an indelible impression in the cafe's ambiance.

I'd been exactly the opposite. One of his is friend said , "they say opposites attract."

"Don't you want a coffee while reading today, Elara?" someone asked,That pull me out of my thoughts.

Zoya, the manager.

"I guess I want a regular one today" I said looking at her.

I ordered a coffee, grab the book and ready to escape this world.

In the midst of my contemplation, a familiar waiter approached with a warm smile.

"Here's your coffee, Mam," he said keeping the cup on the table.

I nodded, "Thanks for the coffee and how many times I've to tell you to drop the Mam part. You can just call me by my name."

He smiled, "sorry about that. I can't help it" and headed to another table.

"Anything special catching your eye in the book today?" Zoya inquired.

"A tale of love and unforeseen connections," I replied with a subtle smile.

She eager to indulge in a light banter, teased, "Maybe you'll find your own unexpected connection in the cafe someday."

I chuckled, enjoying the friendly exchange. It'd always been my dream to own a book cafe. It used to be my mom's restaurant.

People might think it'd affect my studies or it was difficult for a student to handle all of it. But it was not. It'd always helped me to refresh my mind. The cafe, with its aromatic embrace and the gentle hum of life, feels like a haven where stories intersects, and where the lines between fiction and reality blurs, if only for a moment.

As I returned to the romantic escapades on the pages, the cafe's vibrant atmosphere served as a backdrop to my musings-a reminder that sometimes, the most enchanting tales are the ones that weave seamlessly between the lines of the everyday.

My phone buzzed, and I'd seen a message from my only friend.

Addie: Michael asked for your number. Should I give him?

Michael, a batch mate. A wave of apathy washed over me, my disinterest in such matters keeping my emotions untouched. It was just another inconsequential detail in my day.

Me: No.

And I continued with my routine, unfazed by the attempt to intrude into my world.

"Hey, Elara, mind if I join you?"

Again!! I was just about to escape this world.

It was Michael. What was he doing here? Okay! I accepted. Today I couldn't skip this world. I just had go through it and this really pissed me off.

Michael asked ,"May I?" again.

I replied,"Suit yourself."

He took a seat in front of me. "How about grabbing a coffee and catching up?"

"Coffee's fine", taking a sip of my coffee I said , maintaining a disinterested demeanor.

"So, how's everything going?"

As if I would tell him anything.

"Same as usual. Nothing noteworthy."

"You always keep it mysterious, Elara. Anything exciting happening in your world?"

Why in the world he's interested in my world? That's my personal "Hell". Why would I tell him about it?

"Not really. Just the usual routine."

I glanced at my watch.

"I was thinking maybe we could spend more time together."

"Not really looking for that. Excuse me, I've got to go. Enjoy your coffee. "

I leaved Michael with an air of disinterest, keeping my personal space intact.

Back at my apartment, the chill of isolation seeped through every corner. The fluorescent hum of the cold, artificial lights casted an unforgiving glow on the stark walls. I moved through the rooms with calculated indifference, a solitary figure navigating the emptiness. The night stretched on, devoid of any warmth or connection, and I found solace in the icy quietude. The darkness outside mirrored the void within, as I retreated further into the solitude that defined my existence.

I'd to deal with some lab work tomorrow.Ugh.... I was so fucking tired.