Julia

Julia

There was a girl named Julia, petite, slightly tan, and passionate about karate. One gray afternoon, after hours of training, she and her friends visited their sensei’s house. The air was heavy with rain, and the cold glasses of water on the table seemed like small blessings.

When Julia reached for her drink, her eyes caught a pair of eyes across the room, her sensei’s brother. He smiled, easy and kind, the sort of smile that made time slow down. He walked over, started a light conversation, nothing extraordinary, yet something in the way he spoke stayed with her. Before he left, he asked for her number.

The days that followed were filled with calls and laughter. Affection grew in the quiet rhythm of their voices. But then, duty called him abroad, and their love was stretched across oceans and silence.

Months later, when he finally had a break, he decided to surprise her. He went to her dorm, heart light with longing. The door opened, and the world fell still.

Julia stood before him, her face pale, her belly round.

There was no need for words, but still they came, trembling and small. She confessed between sobs that she was carrying another man’s child, six months along. Her voice broke under the weight of her own regret.

He said nothing. Only the sound of her crying filled the room.

Noel

Noel had been counting the days until his leave. He wanted to see her again, to hold something familiar in a life that had turned into working routines. He imagined her smile, the way she would light up when she saw him.

He knocked on her door. It opened slowly.

She stood there, startled, speechless, her hands instinctively touching her swollen belly.

The silence between them was unbearable. His mind refused to understand what his eyes already knew.

Inside, they talked. She cried, words spilling out in fragments of apology and shame.

Noel listened, though the words no longer reached him.
Finally, he said softly, almost to himself, “I never thought you could do something like this.”

Then he left, down the narrow hallway, into the evening rain. Somewhere along the way, he bought a bottle of whiskey, as if it might drown the echo of her voice that would not stop ringing in his chest.