Lily remained standing before Mr.
Antoine for moments after their conversation ended.
She knew that she must not leave suddenly.
Even the manner of ending the dialogue was to her a part of the image she maintained.
Therefore, she took a calm breath, then said in a balanced voice: “If there is nothing else, Father, I request permission to go to my room.” The sentence was not merely a request.
It was carefully phrased.
The tone of her voice was low, respectful, carrying neither haste nor a desire to escape.
Mr.
Antoine looked at her for a moment, then said: “Go.” Lily nodded her head slightly.
“Thank you, Father.” Then she turned around.
Her steps were calm.
Her back straight.
Her face still.
Everything about her said that she was fine.
That she was in control of herself.
That she was the daughter he knew.
She left the room.
And closed the door behind her quietly.
But as soon as she moved several steps away from the dining room…
Everything began to change once again.
She stopped for a moment in the hallway.
As if her body were merely waiting for her to disappear from before his eyes.
The artificial calm vanished.
The small smile vanished.
The complete control she had maintained throughout the past hours vanished.
Her breathing began to grow faster.
She placed her hand on her chest trying to calm herself down.
Her heart was beating heavily.
She felt a coldness in her extremities despite the heat of the place.
And that same feeling returned.
The fear.
The tension.
That pressure that never appears before anyone.
“Adam…” She said it inside her mind.
Then it repeated.
“Adam…
Adam…” The name returned every time as if it were the only thing her mind could cling to when all matters around her became heavy.
She did not want to think about her father’s look.
Nor about the questions.
Nor about the comparisons.
Nor about all those words she had said throughout the evening while trying to be perfect.
She wanted only to know that he was fine.
To hear his voice.
To make sure that he was there.
She went quickly to the bathroom.
She turned on the faucet, and placed her hands under the water.
She began to wash them, but her movement was not calm as usual.
It was faster.
Tense.
She repeated washing her hands more than once, as if she were trying to get rid of that feeling chasing her.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror.
She saw the girl everyone sees.
The neat hair.
The calm features.
The perfect appearance.
But she knew the truth.
She knew how hard it was to stay in this image all the time.
She turned off the faucet.
She took a towel and dried her hands quickly.
Then she moved toward her room.
This time she did not try to walk slowly or calmly.
She wanted only to reach.
She hastened in the hallway.
She opened the door of her room.
She entered.
And closed the door immediately.
Then she turned the lock.
The small sound of the lock made her feel for a moment that she had become far away from everyone.
Far away from the questions.
Far away from observation.
Far away from the need to be perfect.
She leaned against the door for moments.
She closed her eyes.
But even here…
She could not calm down.
She went quickly to her desk, picked up her phone from its place, and unlocked it with tense hands.
There was only one name in her mind.
Adam.
She pressed call.
She put the phone to her ear.
She waited.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then…
Nothing.
The call disconnected.
She looked at the screen.
There was no answer.
She felt a contraction in her chest.
She stared at the name for moments, then called again.
Perhaps he did not hear.
Perhaps he was far from the phone.
Perhaps…
Ideas began to race.
The phone rang again.
But the result was the same.
No answer.
Then the message she had come to fear appeared: The phone is switched off.
Lily froze.
She remained looking at the screen.
For long seconds.
She did not think of anything else.
All she felt was that anxiety beginning to grow inside her.
“Why is his phone off again?” She said it in a low voice.
She sat on the edge of the bed.
The phone was still in her hand.
She tried to convince herself with logical reasons.
Perhaps the battery ran out.
Perhaps he turned it off intentionally.
Perhaps he is busy.
But her mind did not stop.
It was searching for the worst possibilities.
Because Adam was not merely a person she talked to.
He was the only place where she could be Lily without the mask.
Without the perfect answers.
Without the calculated movements.
Without the fear of making a mistake.
She approached the phone once more.
She opened the conversation.
She looked at the last messages between them.
She wanted to write to him.
To ask him where he is.
To request from him only to answer.
But she stopped.
Her fingers were above the screen.
Hesitant.
Even while far from her father, a part of her remained afraid.
Then she wrote a short message: “Adam, are you okay?” She looked at it.
She did not send it immediately.
She felt a strange tension.
Then she sent it.
She waited.
Nothing.
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
No reply appeared.
The anxiety began turning into real fear.
She stood up from her place, pacing back and forth inside the room.
She placed her hand on her head.
She was trying to think calmly, as she always does.
Analysis.
Logic.
Organization of ideas.
But this time she could not.
Because the matter pertains neither to grades.
Nor to a project.
Nor to a question from her father.
It pertained to Adam.
The only person before whom she did not need to be perfect.
She looked at the phone again.
The screen was still silent.
She whispered: “Where are you?” Then she sat on the floor beside the bed, holding the phone tightly.
And for the first time since the beginning of the evening…
Lily did not try to appear strong.
She did not try to be perfect.
She was only afraid.
Afraid for someone who meant a lot to her.
And while the room remained completely quiet, the only name kept turning in her mind: “Adam…”