Tom

She had to endure a lot. Luck had turned her back from birth: a home where the head of the family was an alcoholic, a mother weak in spirit and health, school bullying—all of it haunted her. Her father didn't beat or yell, but was simply a drunken vegetable—a ridiculous, stupid, incompetent teacher. He didn't care for his daughter. Her mother gave her everything, but at 16, she couldn't handle the strain and died.

The girl matured early, stubbornly balancing work and school to survive. She graduated from high school with honors and entered a prestigious university in another city.

There, her life was transformed: she found three close friends—Lika, Mira, and Tom. She was happy in front of them. At work, she endured her boss's yelling, humiliation, and nagging, pouring out her pain in her "diary"—paper absorbed some of her emotions, lightening the load.

The boiling point came when he suggested she "work off" her mistakes and avoid being fired. His hands raked over her body. She broke free and ran away, went to the police, but they didn't listen. She quit, but no matter how much she washed, she couldn't forget those dirty touches. Bad thoughts crept into her head. In her diary, she tried to find meaning, to cleanse herself, body and soul.

Friends noticed how she was growing dim and fading, but she brushed it off: "I'm tired." She didn't have the courage to tell them—she knew they would support her, but she couldn't bring herself to say it.

One day, Tom unexpectedly invited her for a walk midweek. She agreed. He led her along streets both familiar and new, chatting incessantly—almost as if he were his usual self. By evening, they reached the beach: small stones underfoot, the sound of waves, the setting sun. Tom paused, looking into the distance, swallowing nervously. His voice trembled.

— Look how beautiful it is. Just don't disappear...

Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, but he stubbornly held them back.