Everyone in this world lives their own life. God has given it, and each person decides what to do with it.

Some try to squeeze the impossible into it — to conquer everyone, to visit every corner they’ve ever heard of, to touch all the gold of the world (at least with their eyes), to drive every supercar ever made…

 

But me?.. I just want silence.

I’m so tired of constant stares, of lewd jokes, of humiliation.

Tired of flying around the world, of pleasing someone’s lust.

Who would ever know that behind this sweet face, inside this tanned and trained chest, there burns from time to time an unbearable pain — the pain of living two lives, two roles.

 

One — the hot macho, capable of igniting the fire of desire.

And, to be honest, I do it brilliantly.

The years of my youth on a small island taught me how to attract and win the trust of wealthy tourists.

I know every nuance of the soul of women hungry for attention and passion.

Sometimes it seems I can even see those tiny strings sticking out of their hearts.

I only have to pull — and everything begins to unfold.

 

I just winked at a woman on the beach — and instantly caught the burning flame in her eyes in return.

And yes, money matters. I have to look the part.

And maintaining physical and romantic strength also demands serious expenses — doctors, supplements, injections — all of it costs plenty.

 

And yet another side of me, hidden from the world and from social networks, longs for quiet, for peace and gentle affection.

To be met at home with a tender look, when an evening tea at the table becomes the quiet happiness of habit.

Just to sit and gaze at the sea and the stars.

Or press close at night under a warm blanket — and have nowhere else to rush.

 

I imagine how each morning I see before me a tall cliff overgrown with bushes, and an endless sky — sprinkled with stars or glowing with rosy gold from the approaching dawn.

I rise silently, slip out the door, go to the far corner of the house, quickly brew a cup of coffee and make a sweet toast.

Then — into the yard, and I devour it all with delight, savoring the taste and triumph of a newborn day.

And then I’ll make breakfast for my loved ones…

 

…A kind of spell… I don’t understand anything… What’s happening? The air seems thicker somehow…

Wait — what do I remember?..

I’m in a café.

I’m here on business… I’m supposed to get a decent sum from one lonely lady.

…Thinking feels heavy… So, who is she?..

 

She’s alone and waiting for me.

Next — marriage, scandal, divorce, and half the fortune.

Or maybe even maternal care.

It doesn’t really matter — after all, I’m already the man of her dreams, and I can make anything happen…

 

…Something light tickles my palm…

 

…A feather… Where did that come from?..

 

— Astrena left it for you.

— Who’s speaking? Why can’t I see anyone?..

 

Everything around freezes: the guests, the swirl of dust on the street, tiny shards of glass hanging in the air.

 

— I’m near. I am Milariel, the mentor of calling. Are you confused?

— More or less, yes. But what does it matter? I have an important meeting right now — crucial for my future success…

— But isn’t “breakfast for the ones you love” the real success? The one that’s already within you, drawing you home, while you rush in the opposite direction — where there’s no peace, only calculation and pain. Which will you choose?

— Yes… breakfast… maybe… but how will I know? Know when it’s time to leave? Where to? And is there anyone ready to accept me? Am I ready to accept myself? I don’t know!..

— You will not only know when, where, and who — your heart is already ready to receive this gift, the gift of love. Your angel knows his work. Astrena did not shatter those doors for nothing. Perhaps you should look into the shards…

 

…Everything swims before my eyes.

No — it’s the world itself coming back into motion.

Astrena…

Milariel…

 

— What a draft! Never seen anything like it! How are we supposed to fix this?..

 

Startled, I flinched.

I looked at the waitress, bustling with a broom and dustpan near the shattered door.

An ordinary girl — pretty, in jeans, a white shirt and apron.

Her round cheeks flushed, whether from work or embarrassment.

Dark hair pulled back into a taut ponytail, one rebellious strand forever falling across her face.

 

Beside her, a workman in overalls, wrinkled face, a cigarette pressed between dry lips, measured the broken glass pane and grunted, shaking his head:

— Huh, what a thing. Don’t worry. I made two panes just like this yesterday. Fifteen minutes and it’ll look brand new.

— It’s like you knew… you’ve got a sixth sense!

— Yeah, yeah… — the old man drawled and went into the back room.

 

She finished cleaning and went behind the bar.

There! That’s who I want to spend my whole life with. All of it, to the very last moment.

To hear that voice, to look into those dark eyes, to run my fingers through her smooth hair, to touch those gentle cheeks and breathe in her scent…

Even here, in this small café. Yes! I’m ready to stay right here, right now.

 

— Hi!

Ah… I forgot why I came here… I need to answer.

— Oh! You?! Hi! Good to see you — how are you?

What nonsense am I saying…

And she’s looking at me, not understanding.

No — she’s just shocked by what’s coming out of my mouth.

No, I have to end this, now. But who? Who will save me from this gaze?

 

— Hello! Would you like to order something? Maybe… coffee?

 

It’s her. She’s here. I can feel her warmth, her heartbeat.

She’s come to take me… and I’m already going.

“Wait — don’t go. Let’s make coffee together!”

 

The waitress noticed me watching — blushed…

Ah… I can’t take it anymore!

 

— I can’t!

— I’m sorry? Can’t what?

 

And I told her everything. Everything I felt. That she’s beautiful.

That I don’t want a woman — I want a caring mother.

I didn’t say I’d leave her later, but I did say that now I need to build my own happiness.

I see I’m killing her hopes — but this way, it’s honest.

 

— Your coffee!

— Thank you. How much do I owe you?

— Two forty.

 

Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you, Astrena, Milariel — and you, kind waitress.

A weight has fallen from my shoulders.

I know I’ve caused terrible pain, but for the first time, I was honest.

I didn’t go against my true feelings.

I’m clean before myself.

I see her — the one who once dreamed of me — walking away, leaving me with myself.

With myself — and with these wide black eyes.

 

— Now it’s just us.

I looked at her.

— Us?… Oh. Right.

 

She understood…