Hena and Bérénice walked in silence, the noise of the city slowly fading as they moved away from the busy center. Bérénice's steps were light, but Hena could feel the tension hanging in the air. She wasn't used to opening her heart—especially after what had just happened. And yet, Bérénice hadn't left her side, her gaze filled with kindness and understanding.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Bérénice asked softly after a while, breaking the heavy silence.
Hena shook her head. She didn't want to relive the scene in that alley. Those men, their cruel words… It already haunted her. But something in the way Bérénice looked at her pushed her to speak.
"I don't want to make you sad, Bérénice… But…" Hena began hesitantly. She took a deep breath before continuing. "Those men… they come often. When I see them, I feel like I'm worthless. And when they talk about my mother like that…"
Bérénice stopped for a moment, placing a reassuring hand on Hena's shoulder.
"You have nothing to be ashamed of, Hena. They're the ones who are wrong, not you."
Hena nodded, but her eyes drifted into the distance. It was more complicated than that. She knew her mother wasn't what people expected her to be, but at the same time, she couldn't help but love her. Despite everything. Hena bit her bottom lip, trying to hold back her tears.
"My mother… She… She's always been different from others. I… I can't understand why she made those choices, why she took that path." Her voice broke at the end. "But she always told me never to judge others. So how can I judge her?"
Bérénice looked at her with gentle care.
"You don't have to judge her. But you don't have to carry the weight of her choices either, Hena. She did what she thought was necessary, but you—you deserve more. Don't let others make you feel like you're one of them."
Hena shook her head, a tear slipping down her cheek.
"You don't understand… When I see those men… When I see the way they look at her, I wonder if that's what I'll become someday. Because sometimes… I feel like them. I feel like a part of that world I hate."
Hena's words rushed out faster than she expected, and now all she could do was wait for Bérénice's response. But instead of answering right away, Bérénice pulled her into a hug—a simple gesture, but full of comfort.
"You're not that world, Hena. You just haven't found your place yet. And your mother… she loves you, even if you feel like she's lost. She gave you life, and you have the power to shape it however you want. Don't let those men define who you are."
Hena's heart tightened as she heard those words. Bérénice was right, in a way. But it was so hard to separate herself from the image of her mother, from the life she led. It was a dirty world, where you sold yourself for a little attention, a little warmth. She wasn't sure she could ever break free.
They finally arrived at Hena's building. The street was quiet that night, the glow of the streetlamps reflecting in puddles, creating an almost surreal atmosphere. Bérénice gave her a gentle smile.
"Do you want me to stay with you tonight?"
Hena hesitated. Everything was so complicated. But maybe tonight, just this once, she needed someone. She nodded slowly.
"Yes… Thank you, Bérénice."
The two girls climbed the stairs in silence, the distant sounds of the city behind them. But for Hena, this moment felt more peaceful than anything she had known in days. She wasn't yet strong enough to face everything she carried, but having Bérénice by her side was already a step toward healing.
The sun had almost disappeared when Daniel left the main road, taking a shortcut that passed through a stretch of cracked pavement and graffiti-covered walls. The streets of the neighborhood breathed their usual staleness—worn-out neon lights, cigarette butts crushed into the concrete, and the faint, distant rhythm of bass vibrating from some open window.
He walked with calm assurance, hands deep in the pockets of his black coat, his steps silent. The words he had overheard between Hena and those two men still echoed in his mind. Elene Ferza. So that was her mother. And from what they said, not exactly an example of virtue.
Daniel stopped as he saw the two men again. They were leaning against a wall not far from the corner where he had intervened earlier. The older one was still nursing his hand in a dirty bandage. The younger smoked lazily, his leather jacket unzipped despite the growing chill.
They both glanced at him as he approached, their eyes narrowing.
"You again," grumbled the older man.
Daniel offered no greeting, simply fixed his eyes on them and stopped a few steps away.
"You know Hena," he said. It wasn't a question.
The younger man exhaled smoke through his nostrils. "What's it to you, rich boy?"
Daniel tilted his head slightly, his voice calm, almost polite. "I want to know more. About her. And her mother."
The older man chuckled darkly. "You got some nerve, kid. After what you did to my wrist, you think we're gonna have a nice chat?"
Daniel didn't move. His eyes remained fixed, unwavering. "You should be grateful I didn't do worse."
The air shifted. The younger one took a step forward, eyes flashing with warning. "You looking for trouble? Because I swear, we can give you more than you're ready for."
But Daniel didn't flinch. He seemed completely unmoved, detached even.
"If you want to try," he said, voice low, "go ahead."
A long silence followed, the kind that stretches like a taut wire. Finally, the older man raised his uninjured hand.
"Let it go, Frank. This kid… he's not normal."
Frank looked between Daniel and his partner, then backed off with a muttered curse.
"So," Daniel said, "tell me."
The older man scoffed, but something in Daniel's posture—something cold and calculating—made him talk.
"Elene Ferza used to work for people like us. For clubs. Bars. Private rooms. That kind of thing. She was popular, made good money. But she pissed off the wrong people. Started refusing jobs, got mouthy. The debts started piling up. When she couldn't pay, she disappeared. Hid with her daughter."
Frank added with a sneer, "She still owes a lot. Hena's got that same fire, that same look. Makes sense now."
Daniel nodded slowly. "Why were you after Hena today?"
"Just a coincidence," the older one lied. Then he sighed. "Maybe not. The boss wanted a message delivered. Nothing serious."
Daniel's eyes narrowed.
"You don't send two goons for a message."
Frank chuckled. "We weren't gonna hurt her. Not yet. Just talk."
A silence followed. Daniel's expression was unreadable.
Then the older man asked, cautiously, "Why do you care so much? You into her or something?"
Daniel didn't respond immediately. He turned his gaze away, then looked back, his voice flat and frigid:
"That's none of your business."
He turned and walked away, leaving the two men in the shadow of the alley.
Frank muttered, "What the hell's his deal?"
The older man shook his head slowly. "That boy's got a darkness in him. You saw it too, right?"
Frank didn't answer for a second. Then:
"Yeah. I saw it. Gives me the creeps."
They fell silent again, the cold night swallowing their words.
And Daniel disappeared into the darkness, a slight, satisfied smile playing at the corner of his lips.