Love Cocktail

Beneath the Surface

The final bell of the semester was music to my ears, a sweet release after the whirlwind of our presentation with Kai, Veda, and Anya. I was desperate to return to the comforting embrace of my family after the relentless pace of college life. With a two-week holiday ahead, I eagerly boarded the train home, yearning for the warmth that only home could provide. The moment I stepped inside, I was enveloped in that familiar, comforting atmosphere—the scent of freshly cooked meals and the feeling of being exactly where I belonged.

For those two glorious weeks, I became a ghost, disconnecting from the digital world and fully immersing myself in family life. We shared meals, exchanged stories, and filled the house with laughter that echoed through the walls. It was a sanctuary from the relentless ticking clock of the outside world, a rare chance to breathe and simply be. But as with all good things, the holiday came to an end, and I was thrust back into the familiar chaos of college life.

On the first day back, eager to reconnect, I met up with everyone at Kai's club. But something felt off. The usual spark in Kai’s sharp wit seemed dulled. Veda carried an unusual tension in her shoulders, and even Anya, the resident optimist, had a shadow of silence clinging to her.

A doubt began to creep into my mind. Had I become so attached to the comfort of home that I’d neglected the bonds I had forged in this new chapter of my life? Was I sacrificing genuine connections for fleeting moments of peace? Was I losing touch with the people who had become a part of my everyday life?

The next day, as I prepped for another day of classes, Sis announced, "Business trip for a few days. Don't worry, I'll be back in a flash!"

"Worry? Please, I'll finally have this palace to myself!" I retorted with a smirk, dripping with sarcasm. Her response was a playful swat on the head. We both left the house at the same time, but the thought of temporary solitude was already intoxicating. It wasn't that I didn’t love having her around—I did. But the idea of having the entire house to myself? That was undeniably great.

At college, I couldn’t find Anya anywhere. After class, I gave her a call. She answered with a tired voice, "Not in the mood for class today."

"Skipping class? Who are you, and what have you done with the real Anya?" I quipped. Knowing her, she hates being alone in her room, so something definitely seemed off. But she brushed it off, and I didn’t push, sensing she needed some space.

After a long day of classes and work, I returned to my empty home—completely mine for a few days. I put my bag aside, went to the kitchen to warm up some food, and after changing into something more comfortable, I settled down on the couch with my dinner and a movie. Finally, a bit of peace and quiet.

But as I got into the movie, I felt a strange sensation, like someone was watching me. My eyes darted to the balcony window. Was that a shadow? I shook my head, telling myself it was nothing, but the feeling wouldn’t go away.

Just to be cautious, I secured all the windows, double-checking the locks. As I settled back down, a faint sound pierced the silence—footsteps coming from the front door. My heart hammered against my ribs. Who could it be at this hour, and with what intentions?

My first instinct was to investigate, but then I caught myself. Seriously? I’m not some horror movie actress who runs outside in the middle of the night just to satisfy my curiosity. What’s the point? It’s the middle of the night, I’m alone, my sixth sense is screaming that something’s wrong, and I’m supposed to just waltz out there like I’m invincible? Nope. Not happening.

So, I did what any sane person would do in my situation. I sprinted to my room, cocooned myself in the blanket like a magical shield, and tried to force myself to sleep. The fact that it was 30 degrees outside didn’t matter—I was convinced the blanket was my only defense against whatever might be lurking in the shadows.

The next morning, still rattled from the previous night, I headed to college an hour early. The unsettling events had left me on edge, and I couldn’t shake the anxiety. When I arrived, I noticed Anya was absent once again. I called her, but she didn’t pick up. Concerned for her well-being and hesitant to head home early—especially since the café was closed for the day due to some personal matters of the boss—I decided to check on Anya at her apartment.

When I reached her apartment, I rang the bell repeatedly, but there was no response. My calls remained unanswered, increasing my anxiety. Finally, I asked the watchman to open the door for me.

When the door finally creaked open, I was met with a scene that made my heart race and my breath catch. It felt as though the ground had shifted beneath me, leaving me momentarily stunned. The sight before me was anything but reassuring.