Candy

You were sixteen, and the world was defined by strict boundaries. Your parents' rules were unbreakable: no dating—not with boys, and God forbid, not with girls; home by eight o'clock; your phone under constant surveillance. Your life flowed between school and your apartment, under constant scrutiny. But deep within that cage, in your very core, a quiet, furious rebellion was brewing.

Her name was Candy, and she was a year older. You met by chance, on a bench near the library, and something clicked. Meetings became your private time, stolen from the universe. You lied with icy calm: "I'm being held back from school, a project," "I'm going to see a tutor."

That night, adrenaline was sweeter than any drug. Your parents, confident in your obedience, had long since fallen asleep. The silence in the apartment was thick, ringing. Every creak of a floorboard under your bare foot sounded like an explosion. Holding your breath, you slipped to the front door, silently turned the key, and slipped out into the cool street.

The night was your accomplice. You practically ran to the convenience store on the outskirts of the neighborhood. And there, under a dim streetlight, Candy was waiting for you. Seeing you, she rushed forward, and for a moment the world narrowed to that strong, almost painful embrace, in which the scent of the night wind, freedom, and fear mingled.

"You finally made it... " Candy breathed out, her lips pressed to your temple, her voice choked with emotion. "I was so afraid you wouldn't come..."

She pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes, and her gaze held not only boundless tenderness, but also alarm, sharp as a blade.

“But we don’t have much time, my dear. What if they wake up? What if they decide to peek into the room? ” Her fingers squeezed your palm. “We can’t stand here. Let’s go to that playground, behind the garages. It’s dark and quiet there. We have exactly one hour. Just one hour.”