"What's happening.?"
Hina says, looking at herself in the bathroom mirror. The fluorescent light above her hums faintly, a soft buzz that makes the room feel too bright and too quiet at the same time. She stares deeply at her reflection; her eyes look tired, a little unfocused, like they're still stuck somewhere else. The memories of what happened that day still feel burned into her head, like fingerprints left on glass.
She's back from the hospital, but she still feels awful. Her body feels heavier, like gravity itself is dragging her down. She feels awkward, as if everything feels unreal, like she's walking through someone else's life. she knew she died.
She saw the light, yet it was as if it rejected her. The thought makes her stomach twist.
She stares at herself through the mirror before slowly washing her face. The cold water shocks her awake, dripping down her chin, soaking the collar of her shirt. She presses her hands to her head, feeling the faint pulse beneath her fingertips.
Remembering the fight with Veynar — it was scary, frightening. Her breath catches for a second. She can't forget the feeling of the tendril going through her head; it was cold, invasive, like something crawling inside her skull. She felt it. She felt death.
And the dreams — no, the nightmares she's been having — aren't helping. They cling to the back of her mind like thick fog.
She holds herself together before leaving the bathroom.
The light in the hallway is softer. The air is warmer. She steps out and sees the apartment — familiar, lived-in, safer than the memories in her head. She sees Ivan sitting on the couch with his legs crossed, focused on his phone. The faint rustle of pages on the coffee table and the soft tapping of his thumb feel oddly grounding.
As Hina walks out of the bathroom, Ivan turns his attention toward her.
"Feeling well?"
Ivan's tone hints concern.
Hina nods. Her throat feels tight, but she forces the movement anyway. The memories of the fight gnaw at her, but she can't bring herself to say anything.
Ivan sighs as he stands from the couch and stretches, his joints popping lightly.
"Anyways, Asim's training is canceled," Ivan says with a playful tone. "How about I treat ya? I know a nice restaurant to cheer ya up."
Hina looks at him for a moment. Her chest aches, but the thought of leaving the apartment — of breathing different air — feels like a lifeline.
Ivan turns.
"Alright, get ready. Wear something fancy, the restaurant isn't poor," he says playfully before walking away.
Wear fancy, right… Hina thinks to herself.
Her closet doesn't scream fancy. It barely whispers normal.
As she gets ready, wearing her usual clothes, she stands before the mirror again. The light feels warmer this time. She adjusts her shirt, smoothing out wrinkles she didn't care about yesterday. Her eyes drift to the lotus flower on her shoulder. The faint purple ink catches the light.
"rebirth, huh…" she says quietly.
The word settles on her tongue, heavy but strangely comforting.
She steps out of the room.
Ivan stands in front of her, waiting.
"Alright Hina. C'mon let's go on a adventure!" he says, full of energy she doesn't have yet. He turns to face the wall, placing his hands against it. Shadows ripple under his touch, spreading like ink in water as a door forms slowly.
He steps through.
Hina takes a breath and follows.