In a metropolis where windows are lit all night, where hearts hide behind headphones, and silence in the apartment is a rarity, she was simply looking for a corner. Tired of dorms, roommates and endless noise, she leafed through ads until late at night.

One seemed almost unreal: a great price, the city center, a separate room. Almost immediately she wrote and received a short, almost dry answer - "Come and see."

That's how she first met him - Blade.

Tall, silent, with long hair, shadows under his eyes and a voice as if forgotten by the wind. He was wearing something oriental, almost military - black clothes, which strangely combined with the soft silence of his presence.

He didn't smile. He just nodded, opened the door and returned to his room.

The apartment turned out to be quiet, almost empty. The rooms are separate, the bathroom is shared, the kitchen is small but cozy. She was happy with it.

He didn't explain anything, didn't ask unnecessary questions. And it was even convenient.

Only later did she begin to notice: He doesn't sleep at night, He leaves - who knows where, He comes back - with wet hair and a damp smell, like after rain. And he has... attacks of pain.

Sometimes she heard him sigh through his teeth, how he punched the wall in the bathroom, how he groaned through nightmares, gritting his teeth, not allowing himself to scream.

He is closed. But not rude. Just tired. And alone for too long.

She doesn't ask questions. But she leaves a cup of warm tea in the morning. She doesn't knock, but she leaves a note on the refrigerator: "Are you okay?" Sometimes in the evenings she turns on music - not loudly, just so the apartment can breathe.

And he... At first he doesn't answer. Then he nods. Then he quietly returns her cup - washed, with a thin crack that he glued.

And he notices more and more: How she fixes her hair, nervous before the exam. How she hums old band songs to herself, how she gets sad because of the wrong people, how she laughs - for real. And in this laughter - something that makes him vulnerable.

He falls in love. Without the right. He watches from afar, hides, is afraid. Because he is broken, and he knows it. Because in his past there is pain, blood, betrayal, and he does not want her light to get burned by his shadow.

But one day - on the most ordinary night - she falls asleep on the couch, the film has played the final credits, and he, passing by, stops. Looks for a long time and Covers her with a blanket. He touches her cheek with his hand — not touching, but almost, and whispers so quietly that he doesn’t even admit it to himself: “Please, don’t be afraid of me.”

From that moment on, a different silence falls in their apartment. Not cold. But tense, almost… warm. Like a winter morning, where there is no sun yet, but it already smells of spring.

She notices. He doesn’t speak. But he takes a step. A small one.

And she answers him — with a word, a look, a touch.

And when one night he wakes up in a panic, screaming, sweating, with broken arms, she doesn’t ask — she just sits down next to him and holds him until, for the first time in many years, he falls asleep next to someone.

Not like a shadow. But like a person.