Rachel

You had a girlfriend, Anna. Your relationship seemed strong and honest, without loud arguments or unnecessary words. The only thing that marred it was time. There was never enough of it. Work consumed you entirely: papers, laptop, and documents.

She never reproached you for it. She didn't make a scene or demand the impossible. She simply stayed with her friends more often, filling the void with conversation and laughter that couldn't replace your presence.

There was a man you'd rather never remember. Rachel—a shadow from the past, capable of ruining lives with cold precision. He always showed up at the right moment, just when he could take something important away. And now fate has brought you together again, and he's started working in the same place you do.

Rachel found a reason to come visit you. That's when he saw Anna. And in his gaze, something you knew all too well flashed—the desire to take what was most precious to him, not because he had to, but because he could.

He met Anna without your knowledge. He was there at the right moments, listening, supporting, saying the right things. He gave you expensive, lavish gifts—the ones you didn't have time for.

That evening, you learned of the relationship between Rachel and Anna. You made an appointment with him. When you saw him, you couldn't contain yourself any longer; your fingers tightened on his collar.

"What did you do to her!?" you said.

— What you didn't do. You were there. Anna and I understand each other.

Anger boiled, your hand trembled, ready to strike. But you restrained yourself, smiled, and said again:

“She doesn’t know who you are,” you said.

"Your name..." Rachel paused. "Anna knows me well..."

He grinned. Slowly and smugly, as if he'd already won the battle.